Voices drowned each other out. Every conversation was a garbled mess of incoherent sounds. The hall before Anemone had dozens of fae walking past her. Bodies turned sideways as hands slid into the pockets of their thick coats. Veils covered their wings, shielding them from the cold. With each pass of a fae, their wings slapped her aside. Every pass doused her shoulder with their frozen touch that knocked her side to side. Before taking a step, her eyes met all of theirs. Without blinking, they darted their eyes to the side or up and away. Some fae rubbed their necks with faint whistles feigning her presence, while others just looked through her. Each of them responded without saying anything.

  The silence was cut by the sounds of their squeaking boots against the wet floors. Then the hiss of their whispers pulled on her ear. Although she could not hear their full sentences, she heard all she needed to. Wingless. In every hissed sentence, that word stuck out. Repeatedly, it clawed at her ears like claws on a chalkboard.

  “If I ever leave this place… I don’t think I’ll ever miss this. And they sure as Muspel won’t miss me.”

  Anemone huffed with a weary scowl as she forced herself forward, ignoring everything. Across the long wooden hall were painted walls of white with streaks of gold. Her fingers graze across the walls that were as smooth as paper and cleaner than polished porcelain. A long, green, and purple silken rug stretched across to the end of the hall. There stood two large doors of white and gold. As they flashed open, a frigid gust chilled the halls. A flood of oncoming aos-si began filling the somewhat spacious corridor. Her skin burned, and she hunched over with her hands resting on her knees. The frozen winds bit into her lungs, and she choked.

  Once she finally stepped outside, her head turned back to look at the sky. The grey of the clouds had hidden the sun already. It hid it more than the tree that reached into cold, ashen heavens. The tree was so wide you could hardly see the end of its trunk. Before Anemone were lines of aos-si waiting for rides in the ridges of the tree. In front of them were at least eight large carriages. All were painted bright pearl white. Gold and green accents streaked across their long, tube-like structure. Each carriage lay horizontally strapped to the back of an armored beetle. And with their every step, faint tremors wobbled her legs. Though the carriages were packed, none of the beetles struggled climbing the grooves.

  “Thank Lauma for those Entomo-chauffeurs and elevator bugs. The walk to the bottom rungs is no joke.”

  As beautifully carved as each wood carriage was, the ride was not smooth. Be it the top or bottom floor, either your foot or butt was numb. Even though both floors had doors on each end, entering or exiting did not matter. Getting on or off did. At the helm of the beetle sat an aos-si. Usually, a fae dressed in full black was the Entomo-chauffeur who steered the elevator beetle. They flung a glowing jar with small holes before the massive elevator bug. That sugary yet floral smell of sap hung barely out of reach of the beast. And that very aroma pulled Anemone’s nose as well. Her stomach grumbled, drooling at the dripping sap. Anemone, however, turned her face and began walking towards an elevator.

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  All the fae chattered about the bitter cold biting into their wings. Despite flying faster than beetles rode, many hated how stiff the cold made their wings. It was more difficult to fly in the cold. But for others who could not fly, riding up and down was the only choice.

  “I don’t miss running up or down this thing at all.”

  From food to travel, the insecta were a necessary part of the Kingdom’s ecosystem. Tir-noNog practically relied on insecta for most of its economy. Without them, the Kingdom would be in ruins. She walked inside the carriage and stood near the entrance with more than enough space to stretch her arms. With each passing floor, aos-si funneled into the elevator. And with each floo,r her personal bubble wanted to scream. There was no longer any breathing room by the fourth stop. The chauffeurs dismissed everyone at every stop. They all had to wait for the next round as she suffocated. Only hope filled her lungs. Well, that and the body odor that reeked of onions.

  “Oh Lauma… It’s still another ten minutes down the Roots…then thirty for the Shrubs,” Anemone sighed.

  Everyone had become caged, practically shoulder to shoulder. Finally reaching the roots of the tree, she looked across the platform from the window. There were waves of aos-si ready to ride up and across the tree from the Root floor. As Anemone exited, she shoved through the oncoming tide of those walking on. Meanwhile, the section above had other fae simply flew out. All Anemone could do was roll her eyes.

  Now that she had reached the tree's base, there were far more aos-si than fae present. Hundreds of wingless aos-si passed by. Tall or short. Stocky, slender, or stout. Elves, gnomes, and goblins of all sizes wandered the lower levels of the tree. Each heading to tunnels carved through and up the tree. Some tunnels led outside, while other tunnels burrowed through the center, connecting all sides of the tree to a central station. Just looking at the amount of aos-si that swarmed by was enough to make anyone dizzy.

  Although she was on the lowest platform near the base, she still had further to climb downward. There was a series of stairs carved along the roots extending into a light foggy abyss. An abyss filled with aos-si doing their own morning stroll down the carved stairs. Those stairs marked the mile-long stroll down to the Shrub floor. It was a steep hike that took most at least an hour to complete. Anemone, on the otherhand, made it a habit to get it done in minutes. She took a deep breath and paced herself as she leaped downward. As Anemone zipped by, some of the luxuries of living in a tree of higher quality showed. Besides having elevators, there were businesses and shops in the roots. Many sold food and clothes to their residents. In fact, every section of this tree had its own lifestyle. Even some of the inner rings. Each had regions dedicated to life, housing, entertainment, and more. Most never left if they did not have to. The forest beyond the First District could practically be foreign.

  The First District was where some of the oldest trees of Tir-noNog grew. Only a dozen housed almost everyone in the First District. District two was the spillover of aos-si presence. It was a smaller district that made the others even smaller. The other three districts were like hills to a mountain. Afterall, Tir-noNog’s forest trees made some mountains look minuscule. Nothing was as large as the trees all of District One—In all of Abhainn-Reatha. Each tree was large enough to house tens of thousands of families and individuals. And for thousands of years, fae lived within these woods. Within those thousands of years, fae learned to communicate with other aos-si. Sharing their verdant forest world with most of Abhainn-Reatha.

  “I hate this view.”

  And getting from top to bottom and vice versa was its own journey.