Chapters Her heart pounded as she ran, the laden boughs of the Everfree whipping past her as the wolf pursuing her loosed a piercing howl.
She'd thought it would be fine, maybe even nice, to pay a visit to Camp Everfree. Sunset was busy touring another potential college, her few other friends had other plans, and some relaxation now that school'd restarted would be greatly appreciated. And it had been relaxing, at least initially; Gloriosa waved her in, a few bits changed hands, and then she was free, free to be with the greenery she loved. Birdsong had followed her along the trail, and she'd felt her stresses simply melt away.
And promptly return when a timberwolf jumped out and began chasing her. She'd never been so glad she'd spent so much of her life running away from social interactions as she'd been, then; her speed, agility, and skill at finding an exit were probably the only things keeping her alive. Sadly, she thought as the howling drew closer, it looked like they wouldn't be able to for much longer.
She skidded to a halt, while her eyes widened; she'd just run into a hollow, one with sides too steep to climb and no other entrance--or exit.
She whipped around, hoping to backtrack, but found herself almost face to face with the wolf. It growled, foaming at the mouth, fangs glinting cruelly.
"Okay," she said nervously, backing into the hollow. "Now, I'm sure you're hungry, but let's think about this for a few seconds. You want to eat me, which is understandable, and I don't want to be eaten. Now, you could still eat me, but the camp owners know I'm here...I think. If I don't come back, they'll form a search party, and if they find me dead, they'll want to find whatever killed me and punish it. Do you want to be punished?"
Of course, if it didn't it wouldn't have to not eat her; it could simply make sure to leave no remains, or lay low until the search parties stopped...assuming they ever started. It wouldn't surprise her if Timber and Gloriosa had already forgotten her; if Sunset called, asking 'Where's Wallflower Blush?' she wouldn't be surprised if they answered 'Who?'
Maybe her plan wasn't actually the best idea...
The wolf snarled, then began advancing again, slowly, menacingly, padding closer. Every step it took forwards, Wallflower matched with a step back, steps back which she was rapidly running out of. Almost as soon as she thought that, she felt her back press up against the wall, and saw the wolf give a cruel grin; it knew it had her cornered.
"I could try to help you find something else to eat," she offered haplessly.
Instead of a reply, the wolf gave a leap, sailing through the air towards her.
Desperately, she dove to the side, and felt the wolf's claws slash through the back of her sweater even as she heard it slam into the rock. Ignoring the pain burning on her back, she scrabbled back to her feet and bolted back towards the entrance, adrenaline giving her enough of a boost to escape before the wolf managed to recover.
And the hunt was on again, Wallflower running witlessly as she tried to escape the renewed howling at her heels. She didn't think of finding Gloriosa or the camp, she didn't think at all; all there was now was instinct, instinct telling her that a wolf was after her and she needed to run. It didn't matter what direction, or how difficult the terrain was, she needed to run, run and hide.
A stream gurgled in her ear, and she chased it as fiercely as the wolf chased her. If she could reach the water, she might be able to throw the wolf off her scent, and then she could escape. All she had to do was find the stream.
Howls and gurgles sang in her ears as she raced through the forest, her only thoughts avoiding the wolf and finding the water. Everything else faded away into green and brown and soft and hard and pain, the haze of instinct.
She found the stream, barely ahead of the wolf, and frantically jumped in. Uncaring of the splash, she scrambled back out and dove behind a rock as quickly as she could, praying as the wolf burst into the clearing. Please , she pleaded, whatever's out there, whoever's out there, don't let them find me. Let me be invisible one last time.
The wolf looked around, ears pricked and eyes glaring. It slowly padded over to the water, sniffing the air, trying to find where she'd gone.
And, to her lifelong horror (however short that might be), it turned to look at her, following a trail of droplets she'd left in the dirt.
She watched in stupefied despair as the wolf bounded towards her, fangs glinting in the light. It tore towards her, and then into her with a savage leap, claws ripping through her like ribbons. Eyes leering at her in triumph, it lunged for her throat, razor fangs whistling through the air.
And then she burst into laughter, hysterically cackling as she stared Death in the face. She'd gotten her wish, she realized with her last shreds of sanity, she'd turned invisible one last time; it was the water it had seen, not her. The water she'd thought would save her ended up killing her. It was so funny, she couldn't help laughing.
Then the fangs bit down, and she laughed no more.
She awoke on the sandy floor of a cave, walls of brown stony roots spiraling up into pitch. There was light enough to see, but she couldn't see its source, if it even had one.
She scrambled to her feet, looking around for the wolf, but it was gone; there was only her, the cave, and one tunnel out, sloping down into the dark.
Hesitantly, she began making her way down the tunnel, running one hand along the wall to avoid getting lost. She needn't have bothered, though; the tunnel never branched and never turned, only continued its downward march, deeper and deeper into the earth, before opening up into another cave.
A miniature forest lay inside, thick with canopy and branch and undergrowth. Trunks wider than she could wrap her arms around, swaying vines as thick as rope, boughs laden with leaves and blossoms, a floor tiled with shrubs, roots, soil, and mold. Clouds nestled in hollows, while grooves of bark formed the banks of streams. The world was the forest, and the forest was the world.
A chorus of crows exploded to her right, and she carefully, quietly, navigated her way over. She found them perched around a small glade, cawing and croaking down at a dead wolf, fallen to a crude spear in its side.
"What predator ," they called. "what manner of beast this be, that slays its prey with limb of tree? "
And then, in her bones, Wallflower heard the forest's reply, rattling through her like an earthquake:
"No beast that you have seen before; 'tis tribe of Men who left this sore, a tribe who recent came to light and shall from now our fair land blight. "
The crows croaked in dismay, then fled, fled from their newly-learned foe. But the forest couldn't flee, and so, without the option of flight, it turned to fighting, to hatred, hating the tribe of Men, and hating her, a Man. Wallflower almost collapsed beneath the sudden weight of its hate, and then witlessly ran again, trying to escape the vines that lashed at her, the roots that tried to trip her, the trees and bushes that pressed upon her, pressed out what little light she could see, turning green to midnight. The forest closed in on her, choked off the light, but still she tried to claw her way out, crawling towards the small, sole point of light the forest left her, a tiny beacon of green in a sea of pitch, a sea she was drowning in, being pulled under-
-and then breaking free from, gasping as she burst out of the wood. She galloped back down the tunnel she'd came by, desperately treading its downward-sloping path in flight from the hateful forest whose vines still grasped at her heels.
Eventually, she managed to return to the cave from which she'd set out, only now another occupant awaited her, a young man clad in muddy felt.
"Hey," she panted in greeting. "Do you know where we are? Down that way," she pointed back up the tunnel. "there's some sort of forest, a really angry one. I barely managed to escape from it alive. Do you know anything about it?"
The man turned to look at her with a bemused smile. "If Everfree truly wished you dead," he replied, his voice gentle and quiet. "you would not have escaped. Naught passes underneath her eaves that she does not know of, and she has many claws with which to catch her prey. No, she did not desire your harm, for harmed you have not been."
"Tell that to the claw marks on my back," she retorted.
"Even many claws, prey may still escape," the man shrugged. "and the stars are not right for her to wield them all. But that time draws near; a sixth star burns in the night sky, and the seventh is almost born. The five begat the sixth, and the sixth begets the seventh, and the seventh begets the spring of magic. When spring dawns, Everfree shall walk again, and wield all her claws once more." Drawing a small harp out of his jerkin, he played a short, sweet song on it, notes like roses echoing off the walls. The comfort those notes provided managed to overpower Wallflower's confusion at his words, at least for the moment.
But then he looked back up at her, face grim. "The dark throne stirs, as well," he continued. "while our other allies sleep. The alicorn is all tribes, and without it we shall not win."
"I don't understand," she replied, frowning.
"You do not," he nodded. "But you will." Then, while she simply stood stunned, he strode away up the tunnel.
"Wait!" she called out as he left. "That doesn't make any sense! None of that makes any sense!" Hearing his footsteps continue away, she quickly followed him, inwardly crying at the thought of having to face that forest again.
As it turned out, though, she didn't; the tunnel led somewhere completely different this time, emerging into a chamber of the Crystal Caverns. Wallflower beamed; she had an idea of where she was, now. All she had to do was hug one of the walls and keep heading up and she would make it back. The nightmare was almost over.
Before she could start, though, a woman wearing what looked like wooden armor stepped into the crystal-light, eyes glinting green in the gem's glow. Shortly afterwards, she was joined by a man, one wearing a faded Camp Everfree jacket and well-built khakis. His hair was grey rather than green, and his skin was duller, but even from a distance Wallflower could see the resemblance between Timber and his father.
"Stumper," the man grunted.
"Willow," the woman nodded. "What news do you bring?"
"The boy has the gift," he replied, faintly smiling. "The water breathes for him when he swims already."
"Train him well," she nodded. "And his sister?"
The smile faded. "Her mind's of metal and numbers," he replied. "She'll run the camp, but the mission must be the boy's. She tries to understand, he understands that it's not his place to."
"Keep her safe," the woman sighed. "Teach her what you can, and keep her safe."
"I will," the man nodded. "What news do you bring?"
"A broken circle, and another cache. I left it at the usual place."
"Many thanks," he mumbled. "For some reason, the kids love alfarrows. Probably because they haven't seen them used."
"You haven't either," Stumper quietly replied.
"I don't need to," Willow snorted. "Everfree has, and she told me what they're like. I may not know much, but one thing I do know is this; listen to Everfree. It just might save your life."
Stumper nodded, then gave a strange gesture of goodbye. Willow returned it, then stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. Stumper shook her head, faintly chuckling, then left herself, heading deeper into the caves.
Wallflower left as well, clambering up through the maze of the Crystal Caverns. 'The Realm of Pluton,' Timber called it, caverns of unknown depth and content. There might have been gold down there, or more gems, or monsters out of nightmare. Not even he and his sister knew, and they had years worth of expedition notes to work from. "Some say that we'll never find the end of the Caverns," Timber'd told Twilight once. "that Pluton still lives down there, digging out his realm. I don't know if that's right, but I can't say it's wrong; the deeper I go, the more I feel like I'm a trespasser, walking through places Men were never meant to see."
She shielded her eyes from a blinding light; evidently Pluton's realm wasn't as extensive as Timber said, or she hadn't actually been that far down. She was in the main cavern, now, and saw Stumper...
...tending to her fallen, bloodied form.
And she awoke for real, to the taste of sap dribbling down her throat. Stumper crouched in front of her, holding an empty wooden bowl and crude spoon, green eyes shining beneath her helm of bark.
"Good," she said in that gruff, rough voice, rough as the bark that armored her. "You're awake. That was a near thing, doe; if it hadn't been for Croaken letting me know where you were, this would've been a burial, not a healing."
Wallflower thanked her for the rescue and the healing, and asked her where she was.
Or, at least, she tried to; all that came out was a shrill rasp, and a sharp pain in her throat.
"Careful, doe," Stumper cautioned her, passing her a small bowl of water. "I didn't come too late, but I didn't come soon enough, either. I managed to save your life, not your whole throat."
Knowing that she wouldn't like whatever she found, Wallflower nonetheless couldn't help herself from feeling her throat, now a mass of scar tissue. She knew she was lucky to escape with her life, but losing her voice still made her cry, silent though it was. It wasn't enough for her to be invisible, it seemed, now she needed to go unheard, to disappear entirely.
"Weep not," Stumper soothed her, wiping away some of her tears with a bark-encrusted hand. "You still have your life, and if there's one thing I've learned it's that, given life and enough time, creatures find a way to fix their other problems, or at least help alleviate them."
Wallflower sniffled, and smiled at her rescuer's offer of comfort. It didn't make the pain go away entirely, she doubted anything would be able to, but it helped. Her shift in position had alerted her to another change, though, and she looked down to see that, instead of her familiar sweater, she wore what looked to be woven grass and leaves, twined together to make a surprisingly comfortable shirt.
"I needed to use that coat of your's for bandages," Stumper said, following Wallflower's gaze. "The grass should hopefully be temporary, but even if we can't replace it it should last you for a while. Speaking of," she grunted, standing up. "let's check the rest of you."
While Stumper inspected the injuries on her back, Wallflower looked around her sanctuary, at least hopefully her sanctuary; she was in no shape to do anything if Stumper turned out to be hostile. Slight at the best of times, it looked like she'd weakened further while unconscious, her arms reminding her more of reeds than tree branches now.
Stumper rolled her shirt back down with a clap on her shoulder, saying, "Good news, looks like the infection's gone. Took a few days, and it was touch and go for a while, but-" She was interrupted by Wallflower's frantic hand gestures; she'd been out for days? Using her hands, she tried to ask her rescuer just how long she'd been unconscious.
After a few attempts, Stumper nodded, and said, "It's been two days, almost three, since I managed to find you. Don't worry about your friends; I sent a messenger to Camp Everfree, telling them that I'd found you and was trying to save you. They'll keep your friends calm, at least until you can send them a message of your own."
Once again, Wallflower raised her hands and tried to speak with them; didn't Stumper mean when Wallflower was well enough to go home?
Stumper hesitated, even though she'd clearly seen the spark of understanding in her green eyes. "You," she carefully replied. "might not become well enough to...no," she firmly cut herself off, her vehemence startling Wallflower. "I will not lie to her. She deserves to know. Doe, the reason I didn't say 'when you go home' is because Everfree doesn't want you to go home. She wants you to stay here, like me, and help her."
Wallflower rapidly shook her head and waved her hands; she didn't want to spend a minute longer than she had to in Everfree, not after already losing so much to it.
"I know it sounds bad," Stumper admitted. "but please, listen to me." Grabbing a third bowl from nearby, this one filled with some strange, sticky purple substance, she offered it to Wallflower, who pulled back from its musky odor. "Eat this," Stumper pleaded. "and then make your decision. I promise you, things will look much better after you meet the others. All you have to do," she tapped the bowl against the ground. "is eat this, close your eyes, and dream."
Wallflower crossed her arms and turned her face away from the bowl.
"I know you don't trust me," Stumper sighed. "and you have every right to do so. Why would you trust a strange woman offering you strange-smelling food, after all. But, please, Wallflower Blush-" The use of her name startled Wallflower into staring at the supplicant before her. "-by the greenery that we both love, by the trees we both seek shelter in, by the flowers we both call sweet, I implore you; trust me."
Wallflower saw the truth, then; Stumper was an agent of Everfree's trying to recruit her, but she was also a woman who understood that she'd just been through a lot and that it was natural for her to be wary of strangers bearing strange-scented gifts. She understood Wallflower, she was Wallflower, the Wallflower of the future who'd accepted Everfree's request. She could trust Stumper, she realized, because Stumper trusted her, because Stumper realized that if she betrayed that trust she would be betraying herself, too.
The stuff in the bowl tasted surprisingly sweet, like honeyed milk pouring down her throat and into oblivion.
She saw Obyrn and Robin scheming together, weaving enchantments to confound their enemies and tactics to conquer them. But then Robin was pierced by a shaft of light, and Obeyrn fell shortly afterwards.
She saw great cities under the mountains, khitin and Men laughing and trading together. But the khitin delved deeper and deeper, and the Men stayed up top, and they traded and laughed less and less. Eventually, the silent cities closed and sealed their gates for the final time.
She saw Peregrine and Rosalinda, pledging their fidelity to each other with soft smiles in a hidden eyrie. She watched them ride to war, sweeping down from the mountains to drive bandits into the Sea. And she teared up as Rosalinda wept, holding her husband's broken form, before charging into the fray with a bloodcurdling scream and joining him in death.
Men and other creatures, working together and thriving, before separating and decaying. The example repeated time and time again, and every time it went the same way; friendship between races grew, blossomed, withered, and died, along with many of the gains that friendship had earned. Together they lived, apart they died.
"Why are you showing me this?" she murmured to whatever was showing her the visions.
A tree larger than any she'd ever seen sprang up out of the ground before her, boles and knots seeming to make a face in it; eyes sleeping behind bole lids, a gently sloping nose, slightly parted lips of varnished wood. It was beautiful, and terrible, like a snake; those lips, which Wallflower would envy on another human, were prepared to give the order for her destruction without hesitation, she knew somehow.
A voice left the lips and burrowed into Wallflower's brain, impossibly ancient and fair and strong and hard. She fell to the ground, clutching her ears, as it boomed in her mind, "Those powers to which Men such as thee show thy favour prosper mightily, until that favour be withdrawn. None know why, and none know how, it is only known that it is so. We have studied you from afar, Wallflower Blush, and have found in thee a Man after our own heart; thou lovest the trees and green things of the world almost as much as we do, and thou care for them even as we shepherd our flocks. We propose an alliance with thee, as there was twixt Obyrn and Robin of infinite mischief long ago; thou will grant us thy favour, while we shall grant thee our's, as our champion ."
"I'm," she grunted in reply, shakily rising to her feet. "no champion, I wasn't even before the wolf attacked me."
"Thou seest with the eyes of the world, half-blind ," the voice scorned, driving her back to her knees. "Thou mayst not be well-muscled or wind-swift, but a champion needs not these things themselves if they may find it elsewhere, as you may do with your allies. Thou possess many allies, and our favour will grant thee more; no green thing will refuse thy call shouldst thou accept our favour, and neither will aught that subsist upon them. Let others grant their favours to the strong and the swift; we would grant our's to she would be their master ."
"I'm not a champion," she insisted, trying to rise again. "and I'm definitely not a master."
"Thou art bold or full of cheek to lie so baldly to us ," the voice replied. "Thou art the Sun and rain to many a thing of green, with the withdrawal of thy favour from them harming them just as the withdrawal of Robin's favour by death harmed Obyrn. What is the proper title for one whose actions are of such import, whose favour is of such necessity, but master? "
"A master of grass and flowers," Wallflower snorted. "Yeah, really scary."
"Mock not the grass ," almost forced her to the floor again. "'Twas a lesson hard-learned, and well. Thou command the grass; dost thou not, then, command that which lives upon the grass? And if thou command them, dost thou not also command that which relies on them in turn? Thou command the grass, and so too the cow, and so too the wolf, and so too that which scrounges from the wolf's leavings. The world is in the bole of thy branches, if thou but stretch them out. Give us thy favour and we shall aid thee in spreading those branches. Thou shalt want naught if thou dost; the years shalt pass thee by, the Sun and dew shalt be thy bread and wine, and wherever dwellest green thou shalt have dominion. This and more shalt rain down upon thee like the morning dew, if thou but grant us thy favour and receive our's in turn. "
"'The more that is promised,'" Wallflower retorted. "'the less shall be given. Demons promise much, but promises are all they give.'"
"I am no demon, " almost split her head open. "In elder days, their kind feared my realm, treading carefully about it or, if need pressed them, with great fear through it. Thou speakest ill of that which is fairer than your thought, and dare to name that which wisdom bids keep silent. Thou art a fool, Wallflower Blush, a fool we have great need of. There is much thou needst learn before thou bears our favour, and not much time to learn it in. "
"What are you talking about?" Wallflower weakly asked, clutching her throbbing head.
"Magic returns, and much else with it. Soon, the hour shall be ripe for our return, but others will return with us; we can sense them, prowling about thy tame little land. The folk of Obyrn remember the death of their laird and ready to make anew war upon thee and thy kin, while the Fair-Folk are not as numerous or valiant as they once were. But most of all, we sense those thou foolishly named, the coldshades, the everhates. They discern a weakness in this realm, and make ready to exploit it so far as they are able. They have put on guises and tempted others of the tribes, even some of those who stood with us against them once before, so that they may wage even greater war against those who stand against them. The storm comes, Wallflower Blush, and Everfree cannot withstand it alone. We need thou to be our champion, our ally against the Shadow in all its myriad forms; wilt thou be so? "
"I," Wallflower sighed. "I don't know. Why not ask Sunset Shimmer, she's better at this magic stuff than I am."
"Sunset Shimmer has her own part to play; what it is none have seen, only that it is. All shall soon be forced to choose, Wallflower Blush, either to stand with the Shadow or against it; there shall be no middle ground and no retreat. All will have their part to play, and this is not Sunset Shimmer's. Again I ask, will it be your's? "
"Will I," she hesitantly asked. "will I be able to stop after whatever's coming's over?"
"Our favour is not a scrap of silk to be worn and discarded at leisure, " hissed inside her head. "It is a mantle to be worn so long as thou shalt live, as the wings are of a butterfly; a butterfly does not return to the form of a caterpillar or a chrysalis. Thou shalt metamorphose under our favour, Wallflower Blush, and metamorphosis may not be undone ."
She bit her lip. "What if I say no?"
"Then we shalt know thee for a fool, and send thee to thy home to await thy inevitable death. Thou shalt not return to thy previous existence, whether thou accept our favour or no; either thou shalt grow outside of thy old form or thou shalt freeze entombed by it. "
She took a deep breath, then released it. "Will your 'favour' give me back my voice?" she asked hopefully.
"Thou shalt speak the tongue of every green thing, " came the reply. "but not from thy throat; no sound shalt issue from there again. It is beyond our powers to heal. "
She hung her head, but then raised it again in determination; Sunset wouldn't let a little thing like getting her voice torn out stop her, so she wouldn't, either. "Okay, Everfree," she called out in a bold voice. "I accept your offer."
"Thou art proving thyself to be not as great a fool as we'd feared ," Everfree replied, clearly pleased. "but there is still much for thee to learn. Speak to the Green-Warden, and she will begin your tutelage. For now, fare thee well, Wallflower Blush, and prepare; winter approaches, and if we fail it shalt never part. "
"No pressure," she mumbled, and then she awoke. Once more, she felt the scars maiming her throat, and silently sighed; another thing for her to learn, better nonverbal communication.
An open bark-clad hand came into view. Confused, she looked up to see Stumper smiling at her, hand outstretched and green eyes beaming. "Welcome to Gaea Everfree's service," she rumbled. "I'm the Green-Warden, but you can call me Stumper like my friend does."
Wallflower smiled back at her, and shook the sturdy hand.
"Now that introductions are out of the way," Stumper sighed, retracting her hand. "there's the matter of your education. Everfree told me what she wanted you to learn, so let's get started. We've got a lot of ground to cover. First, though," she turned around and picked up a small bowl filled with some green slime and a small, crude brush. "we're going to have to give you what my friend says you'd call 'a makeover.' Personally, I prefer to think of it as a metamorphosis, a butterfly spreading new, beautiful wings."
That it can never get rid of , Wallflower thought, biting her lip, as Stumper dipped the brush into the bowl.
The cave was slate-grey, faintly lit by luminescent fungi that crept along the walls. The air was clear and cool and still, silently treading across the rocky floor. Roots reached down from the low ceiling, gnarling down like stalactites and burrowing into the walls. She could see a hole in the wall opposite her, possibly leading to another cave or a tunnel, though the darkness beyond made it impossible for her to tell. A spring-fed pool gurgled to her right, and on her left-
"Done with that part," Stumper grunted, rolling her shirt back down and helping cool her blush a few degrees. "Sorry about that, but it had to be done. Everfree's favour might not have taken root otherwise."
Wallflower nodded, then looked down at her arms; painted green vines traced up and down them now, occasionally bursting into flower-like symbols. The vines traced through her knuckles, eventually merging into two great Sun-like symbols that burned in the palms of her hands. The pattern continued over her back and chest, she knew, though she'd done her best to look away and not think about it while Stumper had painted them; she was uncomfortable wearing short-sleeved clothes, the thought of someone else seeing her sad, lifeless skin causing her to burn up in shame: the thought of someone having to work with it like Stumper had was basically her worst nightmare come to life. Stumper understood, though, and she'd managed to finish it quickly, something for which Wallflower now mutely thanked her with as much gratitude as she could muster.
"Almost done," the Green-Warden told her, filling her brush again. "All that's left now is the face. Try to hold still, please, I don't know what will happen if I mess up the symbols."
Wallflower nodded, then tried to set her face like stone, the way she'd always set it before she'd met Sunset; mouth slightly dragged down, eyes half-closed, don't expect their gazes to do anything other than fall right through you, you're invisible, you're not there, you're invisible, Wallflower Blush, nothing you do will change that-
"Done," Stumper nodded, lifting her brush off Wallflower's cheek with a flourish. "Just give it a moment and it should start working."
She raised a brow; start working and doing what? Then she felt a tingling against her skin. Looking down, she saw the vines begin to light up, light tracing its way up from her hands. "Don't worry," Stumper reassured her as she frantically tried to shake the glowing off. "Everything will be fine. Just let Everfree's magic flow and all will become clear."
She looked back at Stumper, scared, but felt herself calm somewhat as she saw the Green-Warden's smiling face.
Then the light reached the symbols blossoming around her eyes, and she gasped as her mind tore away from her.
***
She saw...
No, that wasn't the right word; she wasn't using her eyes, she didn't have eyes anymore.
She sensed others below her, passing slowly beneath her outstretched limbs. At least, she thought they were passing slowly; she sensed that they were taking one step, stopping shortly, then taking another, though they were still moving much faster than even the swiftest sapling grew. Their felt-and-fur canopies trailed behind them as they moved, though she couldn't sense their colors, and there were bows in their hands.
"What maketh thou of the prophecy?" one of them asked, his voice rattling through her though it was barely louder than her's. "We have our own thoughts, but first we would hear thine."
"We maketh little of it," his companion confessed. "A star fallen across the sea is a mystery not even our poetry reveals, and of the rest we reckon but less. What maketh thee?"
"We maketh the tale of an exile from it," the first replied. "a laird driven by misfortune across the sea, and upon the hither shore founding a new house, one to rule their new kingdom."
"Then thou thinkest the stony tree a familial one?"
"Indeed..." faded away as the two speakers walked away, too far for her to sense. She tried to follow them...
***
...and found herself in the dead of night, cool light streaming down from above.
"Man thou callest thyself," rippled through her, a female voice high in anger and scorn. "but more like a hobgoblin do I reckon thee."
"Wrong art thou, as thou ever are in matters of me, sweet sister," another voice, a male's this time, bristled her. "No hobgoblin is so merry as I, nor Trog so droll, nor deep-laird with so bright an eye. How can I be but merry, I who skip o'er mountains with a click of my heels, who stride ten leagues with a click of my fingers, who hunt those who once hunted me by the side of my fair lord?"
"How canst thou be merry, serving a monster such as he? Thy lord is as cruel as those from whom thou fled, his malice is patent and abundantly displayed, and thou wouldst notice if thou ceased thy follies for but a breath!"
"I can cease no folly," the male's voice fell and chilled. "for I do not indulge in folly. I am merry, sister, but do not think me simple, or overindulgent. My lord has his failings, I shall not deny, but so hast your lady, and her's are none so civilized. Dost thou forget the merry-makers she but recently waylaid?"
"They dared to trespass upon her land, despite ample warning!"
"Just as those my lord slays receive ample opportunities to steer their course away from his righteous sword. I will bother thee no more, Tana; prithee do the same for me, and remember even after I am gone that every Man hath his own wrongs."
There was a rush of wind, and Wallflower was gone again...
***
...and then found herself looking down at a large circle of mushrooms.
There were five figures standing inside, all wearing tightly-wound cloaks of a strange material. It shimmered as they moved, dark grey one moment, pale grey the next, then pitch black. Blue faces peered cautiously out from under their hoods, eyes like a cat's darting around anxiously. All of them held weapons, with more hanging from their belts, bristling with arrows and daggers.
There was a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye, and a bush was torn to shreds by a flight of arrows.
"Quiet," one of them hissed.
"Something was rustling the bushes," one of the archers retorted.
"Everything rustles here," another snorted. "I can't wait 'til we manage to quiet this place."
"And how long will that be?"
"Not long," the first speaker replied, smiling. "Not long at all. The circles are opening, magic's returning, and it sounds like the high-and-mighty aren't. Mark my words, by the next season we'll be able to silence this place for good."
A mist rose up from the mushrooms, and the figures faded away. Before she could try (and, judging by how things had been going, fail) to follow them, a faint sound began ringing in her ears. Turning, she tried to pin down where it was coming from, and what it was; eventually, she discovered that it was coming from somewhere underground, and it was someone playing a flute, quite badly.
Frowning, she tried to follow the music, and found herself in a dark void, completely empty of light. The flute shrilled through it, drilling into her ears, and she swam through the void in pursuit, shivering gently as the warmth fled her.
The flute grew louder, but then fainter, as if she were going the wrong direction. Looking around to see if she could find even a hint of the piper, she felt a chill go down her spine; she saw a spot in the void, little more than a dot at this distance, that was somehow darker than the rest, as if the darkness there was something more than the absence of light. The music seemed to be issuing from there, and every instinct in Wallflower's body was telling her to do the same, to flee from the whatever-it-was out in the void.
She ignored them, swimming her way hesitantly over to the deep shadow, watching in fear as it grew and grew, swallowing up the void just as it must've swallowed up the light within it, just as it would swallow her up. Just as, it seemed, it had swallowed the flute-player in the past. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and swam into the abyss.
The shrill music gored her as she entered the void, though the piper was still unseen. She looked around, the hairs on the back of her neck springing up in terror as she beheld the darkness.
And then she saw It .
There were no words to describe It ; It was unspeakable, ineffable, beyond the realm of speech. It was the most beautiful and most horrifying thing she had ever seen, looking at it like looking into the Sun. Her eyes watered and her muscles screamed for her to turn away, but her brain was too stunned to give the command; all she could do was gape at the magnificent enormity before her, a praise to creation and a blasphemy against the same.
And It perceived her, too, perceived the puny mortal who had dared to wander into It's realm, who had fallen so easily into It's trap. It perceived her, and not just her appearance; It ripped that away, perceiving her thoughts, feelings, memories as effortlessly as she perceived the leaves of her garden. There was nothing she could do to stop It , all she could do was obey; fall down, roll over, and let It take what it wanted from her.
But then the tattoos Stumper had painted on her flared to life, flooding the abyss with green. It hissed in anger, covering its eyes, and its hold over Wallflower was broken, as well as the spell of darkness.
She gasped at what she saw; ranks upon ranks of crosslegged pipers, playing their dark flutes in an attempt to lure creatures like her to their doom, to an eternity imprisoned in the abyss with them. Filth-covered spirits and flaming demons clawed at the walls of their prison, futilely trying to force their way out. And It itself loomed at the center of it all, the bottom of a deep pit of misery and evil.
Wallflower needed no further prompting, and bolted away from that dreadful pit, that abyss of despair and malice. It stretched out its hand after her, trying to grab her, pull her back, trap her with it and flay her secrets from her soul.
Unfortunately for it, Wallflower's injuries had done nothing to her speed, and she escaped the darkness, It's hand snapping shut frustratedly behind her.
***
She gasped awake in a burning sweat, startling Stumper.
"I don't understand," she murmured. "Everfree's favour should have opened your eyes, let you see through the eyes of the forest, not-"
Wallflower waved her arms to cut her off, then scrambled over to the pool. Dipping her finger in the water, she used it to trace a message on the wall, not wanting to waste time trying to make herself understood through hand-speech. When she finished, Stumper's jaw dropped;
I SAW THE ENEMY
"Which," Stumper haltingly asked. "enemy, doe?"
Wallflower underscored "the" with ferocity.
"Planter have mercy," she whispered. "Did they hurt you?"
She frantically shook her head, pointed at her paint, then made a crossing motion with her arms while sternly turning her head from side to side.
"Everfree managed to protect you," Stumper sighed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. If you had been lost...it bears not thinking about. Are you okay?"
Wallflower shook herself a bit, then waved her hand in a so-so manner; she was shaken, but nothing more.
"Excellent," Stumper smiled. "If you want, we can take a-"
She frantically shook her head; she couldn't rest, not after the scare she'd just received. More importantly, she couldn't let herself rest now; she'd seen the true enemy, and she would not allow anyone else to. Nobody deserved to witness the horrors she'd seen, and she would not let anyone else fall into that evil pit if she could help it.
"You want to keep going?" Stumper asked, before shrugging. "If that is what you wish, I shall not deny you. For now, let's focus on control..."
Wallflower's ear pricked; she heard something, something other than Stumper's voice.
Piping.
The shrill music that had almost led her to her doom.
She grit her teeth and forced it out of her mind; no one else would fall victim to those pipes. She would find a way to silence them, like those black-cloaked strangers had wanted to silence wherever the third vision had taken place.
Speaking of whom, who were they? Were they connected with the people from the first vision? What were hobgoblins, Trogs, and deep-lairds? Too many questions, no answers, and limited ways to ask them in the first place.
She silently sighed; she really did have a lot to learn.