She'll be awake soon.

Alistair watched the sliver of morning sun creep across the dirt floor. The golden patch of light inched its way to the tree in the far corner of the room. It moved up the trunk to awaken the rich green leaves with its kiss.

The leaves shivered and stretched like a cat waking from slumber. Then they shrank into themselves and sunk into the branches. The two limbs shrunk to the size of arms and the trunk split in two, forming legs.

When the transformation was complete, a young woman stood where the tree once was. Her thick locks fell in a mass of wild curls, and her skin was as smooth and brown as the bark of the tree she once was.

“Good morning,” Alistair said, even though she couldn’t hear him.

Aphura, she was called. Alistair knew that she was a druid -- one that enjoyed both the healing and astrological arts. He also knew that as he tracked her across the room, she would take a many-faceted crystal and train it on the same sliver of light that awoke her.

When Aphura did just that, the crystal broke the drop of sunshine into millions upon millions of tiny light dots that speckled room like the stars of a midnight sky.

Alistair didn't have to watch her any further to know that she would study these light dots. She'd trace and align them with her fingers, pacing around whilst staring speculatively at the ground, the barest crease marking her brow.

He hated that he knew these things about her. But even more so, he hated how he'd come to know these things. He was a squatter in both her home and her life, convincing himself in his desperation that it was necessary.

That was what being cursed by a witch did to a person. Or a demon in his case.

Alistair was pulled out of his idle pondering when the light show disappeared.

Aphura was placing the gem back on the shelf with the other bits and bobs of her trade. She then took down a pestle mortar along with several jars of spices, then walked right past him to retrieve a bunch of leaves hanging in the window.

She’d be bustling around the house until midday. So he leaned against the smooth stone wall and closed his eyes. Only to be awoken again when the door slammed shut.

Alistair waited for Aphura’s footfalls to fade before exiting through the window. He caught up with her at the tree-lined path that bordered the village.

The birds sang her a chorus of praise, and the leaves dancing on the breeze circled her. Even the trees seemed to bow in reverence as she walked by.

He had seen it hundreds of times before, yet was still awed. It made him wonder if all druids had such an effect on nature.

As they neared the town, a rumbling sound reached his ear, and he moved ahead of Aphura to scout. A cloud of dust rose into the canopy as a stampede of bovine creatures charged through the trees.

Alistair scowled, his eye twitching with irritation. That farmer boy had lost control of his herd again. That’s the third time this week. And it would be the last time. Whenever those beasts got loose they ran straight for Aphura.

He called on his demon aura. The mass of black flames coalesced around him, swaying and shivering with anticipation. Ready to consume. Eager to destroy. He stretched his hand forward and the fire ran to his palm, compressing to the size of a fist.

Alistair glanced over his shoulder to make sure Aphura was out of harm’s way before tossing the concentrated flames into the herd. Heat and black fire consumed the dust cloud and trees, roaring with unhushed fury. The cries of the animals were music to his ears, and the smell of roasting meat was better than roses in springtime.

Aphura had stopped to stare with mouth agape, her hands squeezing her basket’s strap tightly.  She was looking right at him. Or right through him. But not seeing him. No one had seen him since he was cursed. And it irked him. Being surrounded by people, yet being utterly alone was a crushing feeling. One he'd never gotten used to.

But it did nothing to temper his resolve. Lifting the curse was his whole life. Had been since it happened. He'd done almost every and anything, followed every lead he could, tried and failed to reveal himself to people. All to no avail.

Aphura would be his salvation. He was certain. Druids were known for lifting the curses of witches, and although she wasn’t quite at that level yet, she would be with time. She threw herself into her studies with admirable vigor.

Alistair was sure that if he stuck close to her, he'd find a way to lift his curse. And as penance for intruding on her life – or to appease his guilt – he protected her at every turn, acting as her unseen guardian. He was prepared to fight claw-and-teeth to ensure her safety.

Aphura backed away from the fire and turned to take a different route, and he followed dutifully. They bypassed the town to roam the forest at its south. Aphura weaved around the trees and waded into the shrubbery, filling her basket with herbs, mushrooms and flowers.

She trekked deeper only stopping when they reached a clearing where deer grazed and hares darted through the grass.

A deer raised its head to look their way. Ears twitching, it sniffed the air before wandering in Aphura’s direction. As soon as it got within arm's length, it tensed and darted away.

Alistair flared his aura to life and scanned the clearing, but saw nothing. Yet an odd prickle ran down the back of his neck.

“Druids are such a peculiar race,” a voice rose from the silence.

Aphura wasted no time running to the path, but a line of armed humans appeared in her way, forcing her to skid to a stop.

Alistair shot tendrils of black flame towards the armed men. They yelped and dropped their crossbows as the fire licked at their arms and faces. He would've incinerated them, but doing so with Aphura in such close proximity would’ve put her in danger.

“Aphura run!”

Even though she couldn't hear him, she did just that. Alistair made quick work of setting the humans afire before running after her. He debated carrying her, but he'd have to extinguish his aura to do so.

Arrows whizzed by their heads, and he positioned himself behind her, the black flames absorbing the brunt of the assault. Their shafts burnt away and he coated the sharp heads with his aura before shooting them back whence they came. The screams that sounded in his wake made him smile.

But their problems were far from over. Up ahead, several spires of earth shot up from the ground, blocking the path.

Aphura slowed but did not stop, and turned to run into the dense underbrush. But a man materialized in front of her and she slammed into his chest.

“That's quite enough,” he said, seizing her by the wrists. That voice… it was the same voice they'd heard in the clearing.

A warlock. Alistair swore. The bastard must’ve cloaked himself and the humans.

Her hands changed to vines, and she slipped from his grasp, putting several steps of distance between them. “I don't want to fight you.”

Alistair placed himself in the middle. His aura swirled around his hands, forming several knives that he clutched between his fingers.

The remaining humans caught up to them, crossbows drawn and pointed towards Aphura. Alistair extended his aura to shield her, careful not to get it too close. Druids burnt easily.

“How can she use fire?” one of the humans asked, his hands shaking as he leveled his crossbow.

Like so. Alistair shot a flaming knife into the humans throat and smiled when he flailed around like a fish out of water.

The others took a step back, their wide eyes darting around.

“It's not her, there's something else at work here,” the warlock said. He narrowed his eyes at Aphura. “Attack all at once.”

Alistair took care of the humans first, intercepting their shots before finishing them with his knives. Then he whirled to assist Aphura, but found she didn't need his help.

The warlock had leapt up into the canopy, sparks of electricity dancing around him. He shot a bolt of lightning from his fingertips that made the air around them buzz.

Aphura glided out of the way and shot several vines from her wrists. They snaked towards the warlock fast as a viper's killing strike, and wound around his body.

She slammed him into the ground with enough force to make the trees shiver. Alistair's, heart swelled with pride. Who knew his little druid could be so fierce?

“Leave this place,” she hissed, and coiled the vines a little tighter around him, but the warlock only smiled.

Alistair felt a prickle of magic and his heart sank. The blast ripped through his aura and sent him flying down the path. He crashed into a tree, and the breath was punched from his lungs. Damn… Through doubled vision he saw the warlock ambling towards Aphura.

Alistair knew what the bastard wanted. Her blood. A drop of druid’s blood could cure any human illness.

Aphura was in the center of the path, unmoving, just a few feet from Alistair.

“No…” He pushed to his feet, despite the protests from his body. “You… can't have her.” His aura flared to life, twisting into fiery vortex. He dashed across the distance and leapt over Aphura, before punching the warlock deep into the forest.

He was prepared to chase the bastard down and burn his body, but a soft sound stopped him.

“Please…” Aphura begged. Her body was mangled, with one arm completely ripped off and one leg at an unnatural angle. Tiny leaves and flower buds were sprouting from her skin, and her limbs were turning into roots.

Alistair knelt at her side, panic making his hands shake and his heart bang against his cracked ribs. What do I do? He raked his clawed hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull it all out. Demons couldn't heal. Only destroy.

He startled when she closed a root-covered hand around his wrist. “Y-you... can see me?”

Her lids were half closed and her eyes glassy. “My heart... you have to...” The rest of her request was lost in the flowers that consumed her face. Nestled in their petals was a glowing egg-shaped orb. The source of its luminescence was a tiny light dancing at its center.

Her heart? Alistair wondered as he cradled it in his hand. He stroked his clawed thumb over its smooth surface. It reminded him a bit of a seed.

“A seed...” He jumped to his feet and charged through the trees as fast as his legs would carry him. When he emerged from the forest, he skirted the town and ran straight to Aphura’s home. Once inside, he went to the corner where she slept and dug a small hole.

This had to work. Alistair thought, as he dug a small hole. This will work. He buried her heart and sat back against the wall to watch over it.

Minutes passed, transforming into hours and eventually, his lids became too heavy to keep open. His body was demanding rest to heal his injuries, and even though he protested, sleep took him.

Alistair awoke some time later and blinked his vision into focus. A single ray of sunshine shone on the ground before him, lighting a tiny green sapling standing in the place he’d buried Aphura’s heart.

His heart soared as its leaves flowered open and shivered in the sun. “Good morning.”