Out from the center of the halved tree stepped a man in a simple black suit, crisp white shirt, and tie. Long, silky white curls flowed down his shoulders. Hollow pits in his cheeks sharpened every bone in his face. So did the inch long thorns that jutted out from every inch of skin. A white, milky substance dripped from where they stabbed into him. His eyes matched the color of this strange liquid, empty of everything except power.
Tram immediately covered his head with his hood, fighting to stand only to sink to his knees again in front of the man. "My Counselor."
The dead girl knelt next to Tram, and Lily said in her rough voice, "My father."
"You have found them." It came out of his mouth as a real voice from pale lips that moved. They didn't sag open in a terrified scream.
"They cry for you," Lily said. "Your true children cry tears of blood and joy."
He looked down at Tram. "You? You are my son?"