It’s taken three days to get around the Great Tree. My efforts are slowed by summer pilgrims flocking the Great Forest for their ceremonies. Echoes of mourners, songs of hand fasting, and cheers of birth blessings fade into the chorus of Dryads.

The ground is sprinkled with memorial stones left in remembrance of the dead. Their ashes fertilize the Great Tree. Old stones have sunken into the rich soil and are covered with green moss. I step lightly along large roots jutting from the ground like man-size bridges.

Three days and I have yet to escape the reach of my birth.

The Dryads’ song shifts in praise for Percipia’s tears. I stop and quickly tuck away anything that could be damaged by rain. Captain Killian’s cloak is light enough to withstand the heat of summer, but thick enough to let rain roll off if I cannot find shelter. There are hovels scattered close, places of refuge for pilgrims.

I shrug my bag onto my shoulder. The rain hasn’t started. The Dryads’ chorus is coming towards a crescendo, which means the droplets will start to make their way down the canopy. I press forward towards a hovel made of twisted roots and limbs.

Rain will delay my journey. It will take another three days to break out of the Great Forest into the kingdom of Centralis. From there it could take a whole day to reach Fenix. I don’t know how much time it will take to find the girl.

A cold drop trickles down the point of my earlobe. Another slides down my nose. I pull the hood of the cloak over my head and duck into the small shelter.

The further I am from the palace, the less confident I am in this decision.

The Dryads’ erupt into a roar of joy. The canopy opens. Rain falls like a blurry wall obstructing my view. My heart is steady in my ears. The world grows calm in the hush of the downpour. My muscles twitch from constant travel. I brush my hand against the hilt of my sword, and the winding roots engraved on the crossguard. I touch the holes of my flute and run my fingers along the vines carved on the white wood, mimicking the Dryad’s song.

I lean against the twisted walls of my wooden shelter. It’s as wide as I am long. I yawn openly. What little sleep I have gotten has been disturbed by nightmares. The princess comes more frequently. She will not allow me to forget her. I won’t let myself hope the girl Madam Tiddings found is her like Styre.

Styre.

My body shivers with longing and sorrow. There was no time for lingering goodbyes. I didn’t even get a farewell kiss. It’s not too late to turn back. It’s not too late to build a future with him.

“Percipia is right depressed today.” I startle at the sudden appearance of a stranger under the shelter with me.

They shake their head. Water drips off their platinum white hair and onto lavender cheeks. Their eyes are enormous sapphires, magnified by wet lenses. A smile lights their thin lips. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not at all.” I force a rough edge to my voice and shake my head so my bangs fall over my eyes. I fold myself tighter into Captain Killian’s coat and hope this stranger doesn’t recognize me. I’m still too close to the palace.

The stranger grunts under the weight of a large sack they carefully set on the dry ground. They are lean and wiry, but conspicuously strong to bear such a load. A traveler, by the load they carry. Wealthy, given the condition of their clothing and smooth hands, which carefully rummage through the contents of the bag.

“I knew I should have taken a carriage,” they mumble. “The Academy and the Elders will have my neck if these books get damaged.”

I watch them carefully remove three large tomes. At a glance the books look like some of the ancient texts the Elders keep in their Study. I can’t be certain. Styre would know. I tilt my head for a better view. I try to observe as much as I can, for Styre’s sake. There’s no telling what clue he might find in my memories when I return to his side.

I notice a small seal on the stranger’s bag, a golden Phoenix rising over a crimson A. The seal of the Academy of Centralis. Great Mother, this person could know the girl.

“I just can’t resist visiting the Great Tree while I’m in Earthenwood,” they say. Their voice holds a hint of laughter, a pitch that is both feminine and masculine.

“Where do you hail from, if you don’t mind?” I venture, forcing a roughness into my voice.

“I’m heading back to Fenix in the kingdom of Centralis. I work as a language professor at one of the academies.” They wrap the books in a heavy garment and return them to the bag. They grin, excitement ripples through their muscles. “These books are some of the oldest I’ve managed to secure, and the most obscure. It would be a true crime if they were to suffer any more damage, especially at my hands.”

The stranger’s glasses are streaked with water. They don’t bother removing them as they protect the contents of their bag. They don’t even glance my way.

“I’m heading in that direction,” I add. “Any tips for travel through the Great Forest?”

They laugh as they buckle their bag. “Avoid rain when possible, but, as you can see I’m not very good at that myself.”

They finally lift their face towards me. They blink at me. I tuck my chin down. A lock of hair brushes against my nose.

“Phoenix Feathers,” they mumble removing their spectacles. They squint at their glasses and try to dry them with a handkerchief they pull from their pocket.

Their face is perfectly symmetrical without the enormous frames. There is a glow about them, made by the foggy light of rain and the brilliance of their white hair. My body eases into a peaceful lull. The professor is a drizzle of water on my mind, a strange otherworldly being attending the wood. My breath slows.

They put their glasses back on.

I blink. My breath catches as thoughts curl back into my head. Like a spell, the memory of their face is lost to me. I stare as the professor squints through smudged glass.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a dry handkerchief I could borrow? Mine is all soggy.” The muscles in their chin and neck crease with a frown as they pluck the frames back off their face.

My heart slows. My ears fill with the low hum of music drifting in the distance. I reach inside my pocket and pull out a square of fabric. “It’s a bit damp.”

“Thanks.” They take it and turn their back to me.

The dulling edge disperses. The rush of rain returns to my ears. I pull back against the wall of the shelter. My muscles warm with a restless need to move. Something about this stranger unsettles me. Perhaps it’s their colorless features or their ridiculous glasses. I glance at the bulky bag on the ground and remember they are from the Academy. How did I forget so quickly?

“Thank you,” they hand the fabric back. With the glasses restored the strange breathless feeling in my chest eases.

“Looks like the rain is letting up.” They stare out at the forest around us. The sound of rain pattering against leaves returns to my ears.

“Percipia’s missing her Dragon today,” I mutter hearing no thunder on the wind.

The professor turns to me with a smile. “Not many your age speak of the ancient gods.”

“You don’t look much older than me,” I mumble before adding, “My Gran favored old legends.”

“My grandfather is the same, though it’s done me good.” They roll their neck and slowly loosen muscles along their shoulders. I wonder if they’ve been hiking as long as I have.

“I wish more youth knew the old tales,” they sigh. “That’s why I secured these books. Legends of Star-Children and the Sorcerer. They really help my students learn the Ancient Tongue.”

“That’s right, you said you were a language professor,” I nod at the bag.

“There is one student in particular I am especially eager to show these to.” They rock on their heels and stare at the shower outside. “Her reports on the Sorcerer myths are truly astounding. She takes after her mother in that regard.” They lean towards me and drop their voice conspiratorially. “Her mother is an expert in Ancient Mythology. I heard she once tutored the prince of Earthenwood. Her daughter is becoming just as promising. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with when she reads a first addition.”

The professor is practically glowing as they speak. My heart is steady in my chest, but I can’t help hoping and wondering if they’re talking about the scholarship girl.

“Girls do like fantasy,” I push a mocking tone into my words. The professor’s muscles tighten before a smile creases their chin.

“She more than likes fantasy,” their face is aglow with their smile. “That girl is living magic. It is my greatest honor to be her teacher. To think she might have missed the chance if not for the new scholarship program.”

My heart clenches. “A scholarship student? Must be quite the lass,” I push an amused smile to my lips.

The professor’s grin widens. “She thinks the Star-Children summoned their Dragons from another world.” They bounce on their heels with excitement. “She pieced together bits of myth to support her theory and is currently working on explaining that the Sorcerer is actually a Dragon summoned by some strong sorcerer or sorceress. Can you imagine? Sacred Dragons from another world.” The professor chuckles, not with mockery, but excitement. “I find myself believing her evidence. There is so little we know of the past how am I to refute such a claim. Sometimes, I swear that girl speaks to the Sorcerer himself.”

My chest tightens. Magic strong enough to keep someone alive for a thousand years. I stare at this professor of language who adores the old myths and the girl. If I could get a name.

“You believe in the Ancient Magics?”

They stare out into the rain, their smile softening. “More would do well to heed the ancient wisdoms of our past. In these woods, surrounded by the oldest living beings on our planet, it’s impossible to ignore the pull of magic, to pretend the stories, are only stories. But I ask you, stranger, in all your years of living in the kingdom of Elves, have you never once looked upon the Great Tree, and thought how insignificant we all are, and how wondrous magic must have once been?”

“She is a magnificent Tree, but isn’t she just a tree?” My heart twists as I say this. Even now, the Dryads’ song fills my ears. My heart beats in time to their tune. Magic is in my blood, I cannot ignore its pull.

The professor’s magnified eyes peer over my form. “You plan to travel through these woods, towards Fenix, yes?”

I nod.

“Then, I have one last bit of advice to offer.” Their expression turns serious. “There are things in this world we can only understand by believing in the Ancient Magics. If you happen to find yourself in the presence of such a thing, perhaps one of the Forgotten Clans, you better hope there is no magic in your blood.”

The professor’s voice is as dark as looming shadows. The hairs on my neck and arms rise. “There are things out there that will devour every last drop of magic inside you until there is nothing left, not even your life.”

A numbing fear grips my chest. The professor runs their hand through their hair and turns back to the forest. “There are things scarier than ghosts in these woods. I pray to the Great Mother for Her protection, to Solaris for sunnier days, and to Celeste’s warm glow to guide your nights.”

They nod at me and tug their bag onto their back. “Safe passage,” they say as they dart off into the forest.

I stare after them. They vanish into rising mists of slowing rains. I wonder not for the first time since setting out on this journey if I am making a terrible mistake.

I shake the doubts away and secure my belongings. I’ll track the professor through the woods and see if they know more about the girl. A name would be helpful, but if nothing else I at least know her mother was once my tutor. And if she has a mother she cannot be the princess.

Trap or not, I am closer to the truth and closer to settling the past so I can secure a future, one with Styre at my side.