She caught a mysterious sound, causing her to halt and hold her breath. The sound repeated, akin to a soft buzz, almost like...a bee? No, a bee with twinkling bells?
“Help! Is anyone there? Please! Help me!”
Now, the unseen entity spoke.
Intrigued, she traced the source and discovered a palm-sized fairy, one delicate wing ensnared by a rock of remarkable size, akin to a ripened pumpkin. The alchemist hastened to free her, unable to conceal the surprise on her face.
After all, the elves and fairies were believed to have vanished centuries ago, as told by her forebears.
“You, Alchemist of Dawn, have rescued me from the shadows of despair. May your heart be blessed with the spirit of a fearless wing, strong enough to soar to great heights, resilient enough to pursue the blazing sun, and yet gentle enough to savor the unexpected caress of the wind. Though I may not repay the weight of your kindness, I perceive your dreams.
As a fortune fairy, I must forewarn that the path ahead is fraught with challenges—cliffs, thorns, and biting coldness. Fear not, dearest alchemist, for I pledge to be the feather beneath your wings, your shield, and the tiny candle illuminating the darkness. Please allow me to serve you until the first ray bathes these age-old woods, banishing the curse of the dazzling twilight as your heart desires.”
......
Lies are the finest vintage, deceptively sweet, and people find themselves drawn to another sip without a second thought...
An apple from a witch, they said, harbors a hidden poison.
She, a guardian of hope in the verdant woods, found herself ensnared in a tale not of her making. The woods, with their ancient secrets, could not shield her from the fiery judgment, nor could the leaves or the golden sparkling lilies. And so, the villagers, gripped by fear and the unknown, cast aside belief and vowed to set her ablaze, a cruel penance for a price she never sought.
"Oh no! They burned the garden gate!" her fairy cried.
Before them loomed the encroaching inferno, retreat was impossible with the deadly Twilight Forest behind them. Survival seemed unlikely in either direction. She could feel the cold breeze at her nape, sending shivers down her spine despite the beads of sweat witnessing her home ablaze in desolation.
Yet, her soulflare burned even brighter. Casting a final gaze towards the roaring wave of flames, she cast her last spell upon the people she had once held dear. As the fire danced and the people sang into the midnight, the witch they had claimed vanished and forgotten, leaving only the flickering embers of a tale now woven into the fabric of their mystical night.
......
And she ran into the deadliest forest, the one people fear the most, until the warm shade of flame died down into a hazy blue, and all she could hear were whispers of mist. The alchemist slowed down, panting.
They had survived the deadly expulsion, but safety remained elusive. The sky was eternally twilight, with sharp woods, ever-changing dark leaves and overwhelming cold. As moments passed and her burning pulse returned to peace, she heard leaves caressing, a flowing current, the subtle songs of life between branches...
“Oh look! Fairy lights! I'm not the only one glimmering here!” the fortune fairy shouts.
The alchemist carefully looks around, crushing aside the branches while clearing a very small space to navigate through this...night, if there's day for the Twilight Forest. With a sprinkle of enchantment potion, she whispers to the fairy, “Here we shall rest, if only for a while, or perhaps for an eternity.” Exhausted, she drifted to sleep.
Nothing cuts as deep as untangling your roots, paying the toll as you flee to a place with nowhere to hide under.
For the very first time, the dimmed wilderness felt peculiar. The alchemist awoke later, still beneath the perpetual blurry sky. Tasks lay ahead - to regrow her roots and commence a new tale of life in this obscure land.
......
They sowed the final seeds, pondering how they'd thrive without the touch of sunlight. The fairy lingered, guarding their last hope, dormant below with myriad possibilities, both wondrous and perilous.
Thus, the alchemist ventured beyond the tiny haven they claimed as their own, seeking yet another miracle. No creatures stirred, only the woods, whispering secrets in a silent dance of guidance.
Hours slipped away in a timeless haze, the alchemist unaware of the time spent in pursuit of any trace of existence. However, she halted, struck by awe and surprise, witnessing a rare sight she had only glimpsed in ancient records about this haunting forest — glimmering red rose petals adorned with sparkles, imperceptible but flourishing only where there's a pure water source, even in the most shadowed places.
Moving towards the delicate Maria Roses, expecting the discovery of a small river, she found more — a tranquil, blue pond nestled in the heart of the Twilight Forest.
She gathered some of the rare flowers, hurrying back with the swiftest pace. As she returned, cradling the newfound hope in her palms, she witnessed another flicker of life on the ground where they had planted those seeds. Newborn greenish shoots emerged through the dark soil like rain on a parched desert.
Yet, the fortune fairy was nowhere to be seen.
......
For moons on end, the alchemist sustained herself with the luminous red flowers she found, using an enchanted potion to amplify their glow. This, in turn, nurtured the growth of other plants, evolving a modest farm into a winding path of gentle light that stretched into the limitless darkness, unseen by any.
In solitude, amidst the crimson-hued gleam, she slumbered and awoke beneath an unchanging sky, where a familiar constellation of stars kept their silent vigil. Occasionally, fairy lights twinkled softly, a melodic whisper that that offered no clues about the passage of time, save for her once-short hair now woven into a cascade of braided tales. Perhaps, in this mystical forest, the essence of time dances to a different tune.
The ancestors were proven right; not a single soul could navigate through this ever-changing, dimming twilight. They might survive, but never true living.
Loneliness, like a voracious mist, would engulf any being, erasing their silhouette like a nebulous blanket, leaving no trace of life behind. The young alchemist sighed, her eyes painted in crimson, reflecting the afterimage of the very first hope she believed might save her years ago.
She closed her eyes, seeking respite from the poignant red that she had caressed so much. Slowly, she drifted off once more, as she had for the past thousand days, wishing to dream of a familiar blue light.
Then, a robust golden ray pierced through the woods, casting sharp shadows of branches onto her face. Its strength compelled her tired eyelids to pry open, and she instinctively lifted her arms to shield herself. Startled, she jumped and swung open the door of her small cabin, where she beheld a golden, blossoming flower.
In the hand of a man.
......
The golden hope permeated through her prison of red roses, the crimson fading as it bathed in gentle, warm rays. The arrival of the savior left her words unsaid, uncertain about the sudden bliss bestowed by an angel or some higher magical being. Clutching the cabin door in disbelief, she half-expected this deceptive illusion to dissolve into darkness once she opened her eyelids, like the hundred times before.
But the man approached slowly, his palm open in a gesture of defense, friendliness even. "Have you been seeking the beacons?" he asked. The alchemist was taken aback, her head shaking like an old marionette. However, the man waved off her disjointed expression and concluded, 'Oh, a newcomer, then.'
"The Elves did leave behind a legacy since The Great Downfall. I presume you've come across the tales in the ancient records?" He gently reminded her, "'Illuminate the beacons, and this slumbering land shall awaken,' they said." His finger delicately traced the warm petals in his hand. She then inquired, "Who are they? And where are these elusive beacons? How did you find this...?"
The man sighed, "I met them in this forest, much like people like us, I don’t know. Neither do I know about the beacons; they seem like a consolation." He shrugged, playfully twirling the golden flower in his finger, the lights dancing as the shadows pirouetted.
"Are you an alchemist as well?"
"Oh," in an instant, butterflies gracefully emerged from his open palm, fluttering into her view. "I am a magician, my young lady," The wings faded into sprinkles of gold flakes, and the light dissipated, taking the strange human with it.
"The light will find you once you are prepared." The familiar dark woods whispered echoes, tightening her heart.