22.

  Faelwen

  The forest was not as dark as it first appeared. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered through the canopy of ancient leaves, piercing the emerald gloom and painting the mossy path in scattered patterns of light.

  Unlike the stifling silence of the Wetlands, the sounds of life swirled around us: the sound of birds, the rustle of tiny creatures flitting through the underbrush, and the rhythmic drumming of a woodpecker echoing like the beat of a distant drum.

  For a fleeting moment, I thought I heard the deep, mournful call of a moose somewhere far off, summoning its kin. The river’s voice had long since vanished, swallowed by distance, but another sound reached my ears. The delicate babbling of a brook, tumbling over stones nearby.

  I paused, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. It carried the sharp tang of pine, the sweetness of wildflowers, and a faint earthiness like freshly turned soil. Artemis stopped too, lifting his head as if drinking it all in.

  For a heartbeat, it felt as though we’d stepped into a memory. This place, the smells, the sounds, stirred images of my past. Of wandering through the woods near home with Barnabas, my feet trampling through leaves as he pointed out birds and plants with endless patience.

  That too felt like a lifetime ago. That young girl, wide-eyed and carefree, up to a certain point, was gone. Replaced by someone who had seen too much, who had survived too much.

  My stomach growled, a harsh reminder of the present. I sighed, hand instinctively brushing the key at my neck. There was no food, no water to speak of, and the shadows were growing longer with every step. We couldn’t afford to waste time. We had to find this ‘friend’ of the sea turtle he spoke about.

  Spook walked beside me, recounting his desperate quest to follow my trail. His words spilled out in bursts, as though sharing them might somehow lighten the burden of their weight. He told me of the siege on Westray, the Necromancers camped outside the gates.

  Of the king’s forces, locked within the city walls, their resolve fraying with each passing day. He told about his quest in order to find some leverage for the Black Hawks with the high king to find some form of peace agreement with the Necromancers.

  He also told me how he’d tracked me to the Marshes of the Fiend. But he hadn’t dared enter. So instead he had taken a boat from Erandur and let the river carry him here, all in the hope of finding me.

  In turn, I told him my story. Of Ash and the Fiend. Of the Underworld and the cursed knowledge I had carried back with me. When I spoke of Ash saving us, our bond and how I knew he was still alive, Spook’s expression darkened. His jaw clenched. His gaze flicked away as though afraid to meet mine.

  “You alright?” I asked gently, squeezing his arm.

  “Yeah,” he replied with a forced smile. “No worries.” But the smile never reached his eyes, and a knot of unease tightened in my chest. Silence fell between us after that, the weight of unsaid words thick as fog.

  The light faded as we walked deeper into the woods. What little warmth the sun had offered, slipped away. It left the forest shrouded in a somber gloom. Shadows stretched like fingers across the ground, creeping ever closer as though the forest itself were swallowing us whole.

  Just keep walking north. We’ll come across something, Artemis offered softly in my mind, his voice a soothing balm.

  “I don’t know, buddy,” I murmured, doubt curling in my voice. “Feels like we’re getting lost. Deeper and deeper without a map or compass…”

  Spook nodded grimly. “And we’re not going to survive the night and the next day without food and water,” he added, his voice heavy with concern.

  It was then that the sun disappeared almost completely. The forest seemed to exhale, a deep sigh as shadows closed in.

  All but one.

  A single beam of light still pierced the canopy as though defying the coming night. It shimmered, almost alive. And beckoned us forward.

  “That’s no ordinary light,” I said softly, my voice tinged with awe. “It’s magical.”

  It's the last light of the day, Artemis added warily. I don’t like this, Wen.

  “You never like anything,” I grumbled, brushing past him toward the ethereal glow. Spook, watching the exchange with a confused glance between the two of us, rolled his eyes and followed.

  The light seemed to guide us. Changing direction or place when we got closer. The sound of the brook started to grow louder until the clear, dancing water crossed our path.

  Its song was soft and soothing. The magical light glided on ahead. We followed, stumbling across the brook as carefully as we could, our boots slipping on the mossy rocks. Somewhere in the distance a lone wolf howled—a long, mournful call that sent a chill down my spine.

  Artemis paused, filling his lungs before throwing his head back and howling in return. The sound was raw and wild. For an instant, something primal flickered within me, an urge to tilt my head and join him. I clenched my teeth, fighting it back. I was getting too close to him.

  Spook chuckled under his breath, noticing my restraint, but the laughter died as we came to a sudden halt. Before us stood two massive trees. Their trunks leaned into each other like ancient sentinels.

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  Thick vines draped across their bark, intertwined with delicate flowers that glowed faintly in the growing dark. The forest floor around them bloomed with small, pale blossoms. And tiny creatures darted fearlessly at our feet as if emboldened by the magic in the air.

  A strange energy rippled through me. A pulse of power that hummed in my veins like a struck chord.

  “There’s great magic here,” I whispered. Artemis grumbled and padded forward, stepping through the space between the trees.

  “Should we follow him?” Spook asked, suspicion flickering in his eyes. I nodded.

  “This is where we have to go.”

  We stepped through the archway, and the forest changed. Nature felt older here than before the archway. The ancient trees reached up to the sky with their long limbs. Moss hung down like old men’s beards.

  We emerged into a small valley surrounded by big old trees, the air humming with enchantment. A brook curved lazily through the meadow, its surface glinting in the pale twilight.

  At its centre rose a strange tower. From the outside it looked like a tree, slender and shaped by time and weather. Its roots digged deep into the earth. Tree limbs climbed its surface, black roses curling upward.

  The roof was little more than the tree’s upper canopy. Leaves rustled softly despite the still air. There was no door, only arched windows carved into the wood, each one glowing faintly from within.

  How strange, I heard Artemis’s voice resound in my head as he inspected the tower.

  “It’s alive,” I breathed. We circled the tower, gazing up in awe, searching for any sign of an entrance.

  Are you sure the light brought us here? Artemis asked me.

  “Yes, you saw it too ,right? It stopped here.”

  Spook, not realising I was talking to Artemis, responded.

  “Yes, the light stopped here.”

  I looked up at the light coming from one of the arched windows.

  “Someone lives here,” I said, pointing up at one of the glowing windows. I carefully touched the tree tower. The moment my fingers brushed the rough bark of the tower, a tremor ran through it. A branch spiralled downward, twisting into a staircase that coiled all the way to an archway above. Spook let out a low whistle.

  “Well, someone’s expecting us.”

  I glanced at him, a small, nervous smile tugging at my lips.

  “Maybe this is the turtle’s friend,” I said hesitantly.

  “Only one way to find out,” Spook responded. Together we began to climb, the spiralling steps creaking softly underfoot, as though the tower itself was watching… and waiting.

  ? ? ?

  Together, we stepped through the archway. No door barred our way, only an opening into something unknown. The air within hit me like a wave. It was heavy with the heady fragrance of herbs, damp mushrooms and dried flowers.

  The tower was unlike any place I’d seen. Bookshelves lined the curved walls, brimming with tomes so old they seemed to whisper their secrets, their spines cracked.

  Above us, the ceiling was a marvel. Stars and planets hung suspended, shimmering softly as though plucked straight from the heavens. The celestial glow bathed the room in a muted silver light, casting slow-moving shadows that seemed alive.

  The source of the intoxicating scent revealed itself on the ground floor: a long, cluttered table on one side of the chamber. It was crowded with steaming cauldrons and delicate glass vials filled with liquids that swirled like liquid moonlight.

  Strange specimens floated in jars; flowers encased in amber fluid, bones of small creatures, shards of crystal that pulsed faintly.

  I wandered toward one of the shelves and ran my fingers along the worn bindings of the books. I read the titles of some of the old tomes.

  Anatomy of the Arcane, The Weave and the Void, History of the realms. They all hinted at books with knowledge too vast to comprehend.

  My hand froze midair as a voice, smooth, familiar, and threaded with something eternal, echoed through the room.

  “I see you’ve finally found me.”

  The words dropped like stones into the silence. Spook’s response was instant. His weapons hissed from their sheaths as he stepped forward, every muscle taut.

  Startled, I fumbled the book I had been holding. It bounced once, then tumbled down the spiralling staircase, its echo lingering far longer than it should have.

  My heart beat wildly in my chest. That voice… I knew it. A thread of memory tugged at the edges of my mind, pulling me back to that first moment I’d stretched my magic too far. Even further, deeper, to a time before I understood what I was.

  A figure emerged from the dim light near the alchemist’s table carefully placing a book back on a shelf. He moved as though he belonged to the air itself, his long robe flowing in tandem with his steps. The garment was of deep brown and muted blue, adorned with intricate black patterns that looked almost alive, writhing across the fabric like roots.

  Two emerald gems gleamed at his belt, their light a sickly, magical green. His face was pale, unnaturally so, and his eyes… his eyes had no colour, nor pupils.

  White and depthless they reflected nothing. Yet somehow, I felt him looking straight through me, peeling back layers of skin and bone to see what lay beneath. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, partly covering his long pointed ears.

  “Put the book back where you found it,” he said softly, though his voice carried a weight that brooked no argument. “And tell your friend he has no need for weapons here.”

  I swallowed thickly and did as he asked, slipping the book back onto the shelf. Turning to Spook, I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring look.

  He hesitated, still holding his blades, then, with clear reluctance, sheathed them, though his hand hovered near the hilt. Cautiously, we moved closer to the man who felt more shadow than flesh. Artemis padded beside me, his fur bristling slightly, though he did not growl.

  “I’m Faelwen,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “They are Artemis and Spook.”

  The man inclined his head ever so slightly, his strange eyes lingering on each of us.

  “I know who you are,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’ve been waiting for you. Normally, time is of no concern to me, but the Underworld stirs, and so must I.”

  The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest. I glanced at Artemis, who offered me no guidance, only a silent shrug.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  A smile curled his pale lips, but it was a smile with little warmth, like sunlight in winter.

  “I have been called many names. The elves call me Aeon Tempus. The humans, less poetically, name me the Returner.”

  The name struck me like lightning, and the shock coursed through my veins. Relief surged forward, raw and overwhelming, chasing the tension from my limbs.

  “I found you,” I whispered, as though speaking the words too loudly might shatter this brittle moment. Then the dam broke. I laughed, wild and disjointed, as tears pricked my eyes.

  “Barnabas! I found him! I found him!” My voice cracked under the force of too much emotion. My knees weakened, and I stumbled as laughter gave way to shaking. Half a year of searching, of loss, of hopeless wandering, they all came roaring back, filling me to the brim until I thought I might burst.

  Faelwen… Artemis’s voice was soft, but tinged with worry. Aeon moved swiftly, grasping my arm with an unexpected gentleness and guiding me into a nearby chair. My laughter dissolved into ragged breaths, and I pressed trembling hands to my face, trying to steady myself.

  My head was a maelstrom of questions, and before I could stop them, they spilled free.

  “You made a pact with the king. What was the pact? You said you claimed me. Did you know my mother? Why can’t I connect to the Weave…”

  “I'll stop you right there,” Aeon’s voice was calm, but firm. He raised a hand, silencing me as though pulling a cord. “You’ll have your answers, but first, let us tend to simpler things. Food. Drink. You are safe here.”