The interior of the cottage was a gentle contradiction to its mysterious surroundings. Wooden beams lined the ceiling, old yet sturdy, and the faint scent of lavender and pine clung to the air. Woven rugs in faded reds and ochres warmed the stone floor, and the flickering hearth painted soft shadows across the room. Every shelf and corner bore signs of life—handmade clay pots, dried herbs hanging in bundles, faded tapestries, and rows of well-used books. It was the kind of space that made you feel as though time moved slower here. The kind of home that remembered laughter.
The four travelers were now seated around a solid wooden dining table, the grain worn smooth by decades of use. Before them, an array of foods had been lovingly prepared—mushrooms marinated in honeyed roots, vibrant vegetables none of them could name, and edible flowers resting atop fragrant bowls of broth. The warm, savory aroma stirred something primal in their stomachs—hunger they hadn’t fully acknowledged after days surviving on whatever the forest had spared.
Ezryn, at last letting his shoulders drop, leaned forward slightly. The firelight caught the edge of his silver hair as he addressed the old woman in a more tempered tone.
“So… how long have you been here?” he asked. “Are you alone? Is there a path out? Have you left this forest at all?”
The woman, still sipping from her earthenware bowl, gave a quiet hum. Then, with a smile that held both wisdom and a touch of mischief, she replied, “As I told you, I’ve been here as long as I can remember. Alone…? Perhaps. But not truly. If you quiet yourself, you’ll find the forest speaks. The trees breathe. The vines listen. I’m never truly alone.”
Kael and Lirael glanced at one another. For all their skepticism, there was something oddly reassuring in the woman’s words.
“I may disappoint you,” she added softly, looking directly at the two. “I’ve never left the forest. Never needed to. The forest provides. It shelters those it welcomes.”
Kael leaned forward, eyes sharp. “But… you know the way out, right?”
Lirael quickly followed, her voice more measured. “Or at least how to leave. Please.”
The woman only smiled.
“This forest is sacred,” she said, voice tender. “It’s not just a place you enter. It chooses who it lets in… and when it lets them out. The fact that you’re unharmed tells me something—that it’s protecting you. Keeping you close. Perhaps there’s something you must learn here. A truth not yet ready to reveal itself.”
Ezryn frowned. “We don’t have the luxury of waiting. We’ve already been here over a week. And we’re losing track of time.”
Before he could say more, the woman gently raised a hand.
“Young man… there is a time for everything,” she said. “Perhaps the question isn’t how to get out—but what the forest wants you to understand before it lets you go.”
Kael, who had been silent until now, finally burst out, “Last time we followed someone who trusted the forest, we ended up sitting in an old lady’s house, eating flower soup!”
Lirael shot him a glare. “Kael…”
But the woman only laughed, the sound rich and warm like aged honey. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such youthful energy in my house,” she said, eyes crinkling kindly. “Stay, rest. The rooms are yours until it’s time.”
At the corner of the table, Liz sat quietly, having listened to everything without speaking. She hadn’t touched much of her food, though she held the bowl between her palms, breathing in its warmth.
The old lady turned her gaze to her and said softly, “Until the forest opens its path again, you are welcome here. Don’t worry about anything. Rest. The rooms should have what you need.”
The warmth in her voice was unmistakable.
⸻
That Night
The moonlight streamed faintly through the windowpanes as night wrapped the forest in stillness. In one of the rooms, Ezryn collapsed onto the bed with a sigh of relief.
“Finally… a mattress that doesn’t feel like a pile of rocks,” he groaned, stretching out like a cat.
Kael stood by the door, sword still in hand, his back to the room. He didn’t reply immediately. His posture was tense, alert.
“You were the one who was completely against staying here,” Kael muttered. “And now look at you—sprawled across the bed like you live here.”
Ezryn tilted his head lazily, giving him a side glance. A strand of silver hair fell across his cheek, and a smirk played on his lips.
“A good meal and a warm bed make for clearer thoughts,” he said smoothly. “Something you wouldn’t know much about, being all brute and no brain.”
Kael exhaled sharply through his nose, resisting the bait. Then his tone shifted.
“But seriously… Liz. She’s been acting… different. Since we got here.”
Ezryn’s smirk faded. He nodded slightly.
“I noticed it too,” he said, voice low. “There’s something off. A stillness in her that wasn’t there before.”
“But Lirael’s with her,” Kael added. “She’s watching her.”
Ezryn nodded. “And I put up a barrier spell. If anything crosses the line—spirit, beast, or otherwise—it’ll alert me. And Lirael’s wind magic is already humming through the house.”
Kael finally let go of the hilt of his sword, placing it down beside him before sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Alright then,” he muttered. “Let’s rest. We’ll deal with whatever comes… tomorrow.”
The two fell silent, letting the quiet hum of the forest outside lull them into uneasy sleep.
—-
In another room, Liz and Lirael sit quietly. The candle between them flickered low, its glow barely reaching the corners of the sloped attic room. The scent of fresh herbs lingered in the air—lavender and something woody, calming. The beds were soft, the quilts hand-stitched, but Liz hadn’t moved since she sat down. She sat near the window, her damp hair falling loosely over her shoulders, her gaze fixed beyond the round glass pane, lost in the moonlit forest outside.
Lirael leaned against the bedframe opposite her, knees pulled close to her chest. Her eyes hadn’t left Liz since they entered the room.
“You’ve been quiet,” Lirael said, breaking the stillness. “Ever since we stepped into this place. You acted like you knew where to go. Like you belonged here.”
Liz didn’t respond right away. Her fingers traced the edge of the wooden window frame, slowly, absently.
“It doesn’t feel like I’ve been here before,” she said at last, voice calm but distant. “But it feels like I was meant to find it. As if… the path was always leading me here.”
Her words hung in the air, soft and strange.
Lirael’s brows drew together. “What do you mean? Like a memory?”
Liz shook her head slowly. “No. Not even that. More like… something inside me already knew where to go. And my feet just followed.”
Lirael tilted her head slightly. “So how much do you remember? About yourself? About how you ended up in that sealed place?”
Liz turned toward her then, the candlelight catching in her eyes. There was no defensiveness in her gaze—only quiet resignation.
“Not much,” she said. “I wish I could tell you more. I remember waking… then Kael was there. And he brought me to all of you. Everything before that… it’s fog.”
“Not even pieces?” Lirael pressed gently. “Names? Faces? Anything?”
Liz’s lips parted, then closed again. She looked down at her hands, resting quietly in her lap.
“No,” she said softly. “Maybe not yet. But I have a feeling it’s coming. Like the way I feel so strangely comfortable in the forest… or here, in this house. It’s not just coincidence. Something’s pulling at me from under the surface. I just… can’t reach it.”
Lirael watched her in silence for a long moment. There was no sense pressing further. The fog Liz spoke of was real—thick and heavy—but it hadn’t taken her warmth. Or her gentleness.
Lirael exhaled quietly and sat back on her bed. “Well, we’ll figure it out. Whatever it is, it’ll come when you’re ready. And if you need help walking that path, you won’t have to walk alone.”
Liz looked over at her, eyes softening. “Thank you.”
Lirael gave a small smile. “For now, what we do have is warm beds, a quiet roof, and one night without monsters or curses. That’s rare enough.”
Liz chuckled under her breath. “Right. A good rest.”
As they settled in, the candle dimmed and the shadows lengthened. Outside, the forest seemed to breathe with them—slow and deep, as if watching.
Comments (0)
See all