Chapter 17
Villagers Witness the Wonder
The villagers, drawn by the tree's glow, gather in awe. They witness Mowe, his hands still on the tree, a radiant aura surrounding him as the blight vanishes before their eyes.
The air thrummed with an energy Mowe had never felt before, a vibrant hum that seeped from his fingertips and pulsed through the ancient bark of the Great Berry Tree. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, his small mowe body trembling, not from fear, but from the sheer, overwhelming power coursing through him. It felt like a thousand tiny sunbeams dancing beneath his skin, urging him onward, coaxing the life back into the wilting branches. He could feel the tree responding, a deep, resonant sigh that wasn't of despair, but of relief.
Then, a new sound drifted to him, faint at first, then growing stronger. Whispers. Voices. The villagers. He had forgotten them. The weight of his secret, the fear of their judgment, had been so heavy, but the tree’s desperate need had pushed it all aside. Now, as the last vestiges of the blight seemed to melt away like morning mist under a rising sun, the murmurs grew louder.
Mowe dared to open his eyes. The tree was magnificent. Its leaves, once dull and tinged with an unhealthy grey, now shimmered with an impossible emerald hue. Tiny, unopened berry buds, plump and promising, dotted the branches, catching the soft light that seemed to emanate from Mowe himself. A soft, warm glow, like moonlight filtered through leaves, enveloped him. He looked down at his hands, still pressed against the rough bark. They were ordinary mowe hands, small and furred, but now they pulsed with a gentle light, a testament to the magic he had unleashed.
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