The Call of Water

The seed sprouted in Aiden's palm, leaves unfurling in a breath of green mist. He stared at it, nine years old and confused, then laughing as he picked up another seed to do the same, while his mother's hand flew to her mouth.

"Did you see that?" Elanore whispered to Marcus, but her husband was already watching their son with the careful stillness of a man who'd just witnessed the beginning of something he had suspected for years.

It had started that morning on the walk to the Talmorrow River, Aiden chasing butterflies through the forest, laughing, and where his bare feet touched the moss, it glowed. Not bright, just a soft emerald shimmer that faded as soon as he passed. Elanore had convinced herself it was sunlight through the leaves, playing tricks.

Then at the river's edge, while Marcus cast his nets and Aiden played in the meadow, the butterflies came. Dozens of them, swirling around the boy like he was a part of them. They landed on his shoulders, his hair, his outstretched hands. And everywhere they touched, that same green light pulsed beneath his skin.

"Mommy, look!" Aiden had called, delighted. "They like me!"

Now, by the campfire as twilight deepened, Elanore watched her son make a seed grow with a touch, and she knew. The old midwife had been right nine years ago when she'd said Aiden was blessed. The butterflies at his birth hadn't been chance.

Her son had Nwyfre. The old magic. The gift the Druids would come for.

"What are we to do, Marcus?" Elanore whispered. "He is my only child."

"We wait," Marcus said quietly, hearing her fear. "We say nothing. Not yet."

But Elanore's hand trembled as she pulled Aiden close, because she knew they would have to call for the village Druid.

And when they did, he would take Aiden away.

Six years passed without incident. The green mist, the glowing moss, the butterflies, he even stopped making seeds sprout. Marcus and Elanore had almost convinced themselves it had been a strange, isolated occurrence. Almost.

Then Aiden turned fifteen.

Elanore should have called the Druids years ago, she knew that. When Aiden was nine, she'd watched a seed sprout in his palm with just a touch, green mist curling from his fingers as leaves unfurled in a breath of magic. Her hand had flown to her mouth, and that night by the fire, she'd whispered to Marcus: "What are we to do? He is my only child. They will take him away."

They'd waited ten years for him to be born. Ten years of grief and fading hope before he'd come — her miracle, she'd called him. She couldn't bear to give him up at five as tradition demanded, nor at nine when his gift had manifested so clearly. Now he was fifteen, nearly a grown man, and she'd held on too long. She knew it. Marcus knew it. Even Aiden, with his gentle nature and careful silences, seemed to know it.

He'd grown tall and strong, and was a sight to see, with his father's red hair and his mother's blue-green eyes. He did the chores without complaint, and helped their neighbors, such as carrying water for old Mrs. Harwen when her back troubled her, or worked in her small garden, when she wasn't able. To anyone watching, he was simply a good son in a quiet village.

But Elanore still caught him sometimes, standing too still among the plants, his head tilted as if listening to something she couldn't hear.

The day it all changed started like any other. Elanore and Aiden went to tend the garden. In the garden, Elanore frowned at the tomato plants. Dark blotches marred the leaves, spreading disease through the vines.

"These will need pulling," she said softly. "Before it spreads to the rest of the garden."

Aiden knelt beside her, studying the sick plants. His brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Mother?"

"It's nothing to worry about," Elanore said. "Sometimes plants just get sick."

But Aiden wasn't listening. His hand hovered over the wilting vine, trembling.

"It's in pain," he whispered. "It's asking for help."

As his fingers touched the stem, warmth bloomed in his chest and radiated down his arm. Emerald mist, flecked with gold, spiraled from his palm and sank into the soil.

The garden breathed.

Before Elanore's eyes, leaves straightened toward the sun. Sickly blotches faded to vibrant green. The tomato vines unfurled like waking limbs, flowers blossoming in an instant. Fruit swelled from green to glowing red, ripe and perfect.

Elanore staggered back, shock and fear warring on her face. Her eyes darted from Aiden to the garden and back.

Then Aiden's face paled. His hand fell limp.

"I'm tired," he murmured. "The plants feel better now and they're happy, aren't they, Mother?"

His eyes went blank and he crumpled.

"Aiden!" Elanore gasped, dropping her basket, the fruits tumbling onto the ground. Sweeping Aiden into her arms, she felt the coldness of his body against hers. Panicking, as she held him close, she ran back to the house screaming, "Marcus! Marcus!"

Marcus, busy in the barn, dropped his tools hearing her call out, and fear surged in him as he sprinted towards the house.

"Elanore? What's wrong!" he shouted as he ran. Breathless, he reached her side just as she came back out the rear door.

"Come inside quickly! It's Aiden. He's collapsed!" Elanore cried as she pulled him inside.

Fearful, Marcus followed, "I'm coming. Do we need to call for a healer?"

"No!" she replied, her voice trembling. "He is not ill. It is something else. The tomatoes were sickly, then he touched them, and they grew healthy and right before my eyes they bloomed, and fruited. He said they asked him for help. Then he..." Her words faltered as tears filled her eyes, "He just collapsed."

Rushing to Aiden's bedside, he saw him lying still, as peaceful as if he was asleep. Worried, Marcus reached out to touch Aiden's forehead.

"There's no fever, and his breathing is normal," Marcus stated, now confused. "I don't understand. He doesn't seem in any distress, just asleep."

"What are we to do, Marcus?" Elanore sobbed. She shook with fear as she looked at Aiden. "Go, look at the garden. You'll understand what happened," she said, trying to calm her nerves.

A mix of emotions rolled over Marcus as he nodded and went back outside, his heart racing. What he saw stopped him cold. The tomato plants had grown out of control with thick, overgrown vines but weighed down by an abundance of perfectly shaped, vibrant red fruit. It was more than any single plant should bear. He picked one and took a bite. It was exquisite, firm flesh with much more flavor than a simple tomato should have. He stared at the plants for a moment, then returned to the house.

"Elanore," he said gently, taking her by the hands and leading her away from Aiden's side and into the kitchen, "tell me exactly what happened in the garden."

Settling down at the kitchen table, Elanore took a deep breath and slowly recounted what happened, reliving the moment when she saw Aiden connect with the plants. "It was like they were draining his life!" She quietly cried, tears falling as her fears crushed her composure. "It is time, isn't it? This is a sign that we need to call for someone to help him. What if he had given all his life over to them?"

Marcus knelt beside her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "When he awakens, we will talk to him. We will ask him if he understands what happened and tell him everything, about his birth and all we have seen him do since he was a child. He's fifteen now, and he is coming of age. He should decide what he wishes to do."

Eight hours had passed by, with each minute feeling like an eternity to Elanore. Then Aiden stirred. Opening his eyes, he sat up and saw his mother in the doorway of his room.

"You're awake," his mother said, relief in her voice. "Come to the kitchen and eat. It's late, and you must be famished."

As they sat around the table eating a late meal, Marcus, in a steady voice said, "Aiden, do you understand what you did today in the garden?"

"Yes, Father, I do," Aiden replied, the words spilling forth with an unexpected certainty. "I've never said anything before, but," he paused, concerned as he looked at his mother. "I've always heard the plants and trees. When I listen too closely, or if I stare too long at the trees, I sometimes notice a worried look on Mother's face if she sees, so I pretend nothing is happening." He began to tear up and said, "I'm sorry for not telling you." His voice cracking, he continued, "I can tell how they feel by the sounds they make as the wind blows over them or by how the ground..." He trailed off, gathering his thoughts and calming himself, before continuing. "It's not as if I hear words; I just know it inside. But today... It was as if the tomatoes were calling to me, asking for help."

Elanore was filled with relief that Aiden was ok, but then felt a crushing guilt as she listened to him speak. Had her fears and anxieties about losing Aiden caused this? She couldn't help but wonder if she had inadvertently made him hide his gift rather than embrace it. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized the weight of her concerns may have kept him silent for far too long.

"I am sorry, Aiden," she said, her voice starting to shake. "I did not know my fears affected you like that. I was afraid I would lose you. Please forgive me," she said, and her tears freely flowed as she sobbed.

Marcus reached out and comforted her, offering quiet reassurance. "We will navigate this together, Elanore. Nothing can separate us, we will support him and find him a teacher."

Aiden glanced up from the table and smiled at his mother, his eyes filled with love. "And I promise, Mother, I will always be here. We will never lose each other."

They spent the remainder of the night talking. About the past and the future. Elanore talked about how the butterflies surrounded their house when he was born, and how the old midwife had proclaimed it to be a blessing and said he was special. They talked about the day back in the meadow, and the butterflies there and how he would make seeds sprout like it was a game. Finally, Elanore told Aiden about her fears of him leaving to learn the way of the Druids, and Marcus did his best to keep her calm.

Aiden looked at Marcus and asked, "Father? Can Great Mother or Great Father do what I can do, or anyone in the village?"

"I don't know anyone in the village that can, Aiden, and neither can my parents or your mother's parents," Marcus answered.

"But what about other family here in the village?" Aiden said.

"Our family is not from Talmorrow, son. Remember, your mother and I grew up in a small village at the base of the Mistop Mountains. Just like your great-parents. Right next to where the Talmorrow begins its long journey to Lake Litha. My family has lived there for generations, and your mother's family was there even before mine. Perhaps one day we will take you there to visit," Marcus said with a smile.

"Then why did you come to Talmorrow?" Aiden asked.

"Because your father is a great fisherman and hard worker. The fish are bigger here and the land grows better crops. So, after we wed, we came here, to make a better life for us and for you," Elanore explained.

The next morning, while Marcus worked with the animals, Elanore and Aiden harvested the garden. Elanore preserved what they needed and shared the excess with their neighbors, starting with the widow Mrs. Harwen. After their last stop they were greeted by Mrs. Harwen waiting at their door with a fresh rhubarb pie, Marcus's favorite, as a thank you.

When the day was complete, they sat at the kitchen table together at the evening meal.

"We must contact Tomwyn. Aiden needs guidance that we cannot give him," Marcus said.

Elanore, though scared, agreed, and after their meal was done, they sent word to Tomwyn, the Village Head Elder, that the Druid Helwan was needed.