Chapter 9
The Heart of the Curse
The air in Elder Elara’s cottage hung thick with the scent of dried herbs and woodsmoke, a comforting aroma that usually settled Lina’s restless spirit. Today, however, even the familiar smell couldn't quite chase away the prickle of unease that had taken root in her chest. Jonas sat beside her, his usual boisterous energy muted, his gaze fixed on the worn wooden table between them. Elder Elara, her face a roadmap of gentle wrinkles, stirred a steaming pot with a gnarled spoon, her movements slow and deliberate.
“The blue,” Elder Elara began, her voice a low murmur like wind rustling through pine needles, “it is not merely a color, children. It is a weeping. The forest is weeping.”
Lina swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The image of the vibrant, unnatural blue liquid that had oozed from the mushroom, from the Mėlynasis Žydas, the Blue Bloom, flashed in her mind. It had seemed so beautiful then, so magical. Now, it felt like a wound.
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