Power and Despair

 




There was power here. The druid felt it as sure as he felt the sun on his face.

All day he had walked slowly through and around the grove. Sometimes he stopped for a moment and let the power drift around him like smoke, holding out his hands as if he could touch it.

A bit of snow fell, just a dusting, and the grove changed into a wonderland of glinting crystals, sending vivid shards of light into his mind.

It took most of a day, but he eventually spiraled into the grove's center, letting the power guide his steps. There was no hurry, no goal, no task to be completed. He knew the power would come and go on its own, as transitory as a favorite cat.

He let it happen, letting the power displace the darkness in him. The days were short now, and soon the dark would come in earnest with howling winds and ice clicking on his window.

Slowly, the power faded, and he felt lighter for the first time in months. For just these few hours, he forgot about the funeral and the eternal hole in his spirit. Now, perhaps, he could begin the long climb out of despair. Yes, he must return to this place.




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