Chapter Three: The Dancing Tree

  Ember opened his eyes, taking in the dim, murky hollow for the first time, the air thick and humid with an eerie stillness. A hazy emerald light shimmered through the crude opening that split the trees enormous base, spilling into a large, dimly lit space. He realised now in the light, the hollow was a purposefully crafted lair. Deep, incessant vertical scratches ran in a relentless pattern around the base, continuing overhead to form a bowl shaped ceiling, giving the entire space the appearance of a crudely chiselled carving.

  Mesmerised by the sheer scale of the effort he ran his fingers softly over the deep scratches, thinking about how sharp its talons must be to achieve such a feat. A knot of nervous anxiety swelled in his stomach, the sensation jolted his memory to the creature’s presence. He spun around quickly examining his surroundings. It was gone. He sighed in relief, dropping his back against the scored wood.

  The sharp, acrid metallic tang that had burned his throat last night had faded away, though he suspected it was the creature-, that had been to blame for that.

  Possibly its scent, he mused.

  But the humid, sticky air still clung to him, making each breath feel thick and heavy.

  He vaguely recalled a warm presence that pressed into him, the soft feathers against his body, a rich metallic scent, and the warmth that spread through him, as if someone had lit a fire in his belly. Was it a dream? Or had it slept with him, disappearing before he woke.

  With an ungraceful effort, he forced himself into a kneeling position, his stiff muscles resisting each movement, refusing to obey his body’s intended direction, as he pulled his filthy tunic over his head and examined his injuries. To his surprise, his rips were tender, with light mottled bruises forming along one side of his pale body. Yet, the injuries were less severe than expected. Confused, Ember ran his hands over his skin, testing each rib hesitantly, expecting to find swollen, bulbous lumps or protruding fractures jutting out beneath the skin surface. But there was nothing.

  How was he healed? He questioned, the sickening snap of bone still echoing through his mind.

  His hands moved to his stiff, aching neck, unmistakably bruised, yet he felt no internal damage. His fingers traced the raised skin, pausing at the tender spots where the bruising throbbed painfully—a heavy reminder of how close he had come to death’s embrace. He felt weary and battered, but nothing more serious than he had felt after taking a bad fall.

  All that lingered was a strange, radiating heat—the same sensation he had felt last night. It still clung to him, he realised. He couldn’t understand it, was it some kind of magic? Was the creature involved?

  Overwhelmed with questions, and no answers coming easily Ember decided he had lingered there long enough. He hesitated at the opening for a moment before cautiously crawling out of the lair, bracing himself for the familiar stab of agonising pain in his ribs. But none came.

  Once outside his fingers gripped the rough wood, pulling himself up with a careful effort, stretching to his full height as his eyes adjusted to brighter light filtering through the forest, a stark contrast to the eerie darkness of the previous night.

  He found himself surrounded by the most bizarre landscape. Towering trees, impossibly large, rose from the earth, their massive trunks stretching upwards until their lowest branches were barely visible, mere shadows in the heights above. The foliage far above wove together, forming a thick, a cohesive canopy of green and golden bronze, emanating a mottled glow over the forest floor. Some of the trees with roots, thick as his own body, had ripped themselves free of the earth and intertwined in a chaotic yet strangely beautiful embrace. Within the spaces they left, thick patches of moss which lay across the ground, nature’s own lush and fluffy carpet.

  A rustle behind him snapped Ember out from his reverie, and he spun around violently, bracing for an unseen threat his heart racing. Panic coursed through him as the terrifying thought struck him. Had the creature returned? He began to backpedal, each step slow and precise, trying to make as little as noise as possible.

  It can see me now in the light... he imagined in horror the dread settling in his chest.

  But there was nothing.

  The forest fell back into an absolute stillness. The only sound now was the whistling of a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, carrying the fresh pine scent of the woods, the aroma of damp moss, and the faint hint of old decaying leaves—as if the forest itself was breathing, alive and ethereal.

  It was then, as his eyes wandered deeper into the forest, that Ember noticed two long, shimmering silver shapes, glinting in the faint light that filtered through the canopy above. Curiosity peaked within him, and all previous thought slipped away. He edged closer to the mysterious objects, his mind racing with the possibilities of hidden treasure.

  Something he could sell, he hoped as he got closer, the more excitable he became until, with a sudden jolt, he realised they were not treasure at all. But two large fish sitting on a bed of moss, their silver scales glittering with a pearlescent sheen, reflecting a rainbow of colours in the dappled light.

  What were they doing here? Ember wondered. His mouth salivating at the thought of food. He glanced around, hesitating for a half a heartbeat before reaching down to seize one of the slippery fish from the moss-covered ground. Bringing it to his lips, he gagged at the thought of eating raw flesh, but his hunger drove him forward, and before he could overthink it, his teeth sank into the cold, silvery skin. To his surprise, the taste wasn’t entirely unpleasant—it was mild, slightly sweet with an oily and almost nutty flavour that seemed to settle on his tongue. The texture of the meat was smooth and silky, though he struggled to grasp it on his tongue and swallow. His first attempt to nearly made him gag again and he almost wretched it back up, but once the food settled in his stomach and ache there began to abate, he forced another mouthful in—then another—until he was greedily devouring the pale flesh.

  Almost instantly, he felt a faint spark of energy kindle within him, a welcome warmth that spread throughout his body. Without thinking, his hand reached for a patch of damp moss on the ground. He pulled it free, raised it to his lips, his head tilted back and squeezed out the trapped moisture with a forceful twist. The taste was stale, earthy—far from the fresh water of a river—but the small bit of hydration was welcome, enough to ease the dryness in his throat and cleanse the texture of raw fish.

  A pang of regret weighed on him, though for only a moment—he had never read the whole book, despite his mother’s persistent protests. He had never seen the need for such knowledge.

  “Why would I ever need to live off the land?” He chastised his own words mentally, now realising how foolish he had been.

  Tiny fragments of the book, snippets of wisdom—such as “where to find water” —flashed through his mind and with them came the guilt for all the times he had fought with his mother over his studies.

  How long had it been since he last read a book? A missed luxury he could no longer afford.

  He eyed the second fish with greedy hunger, but thought better of it, a nagging thought stopping him. It must belong to the creature, taking it and leaving it with nothing would only anger it. He was certain of it. He was sure he could feel it watching him, and it hadn’t intervened to stop him so far. As if to confirm his suspicion, a faint rustle sounded behind him. But when he spun around, as before, there was nothing—only empty forest, endless and silent. Now he knew he was being watched, a creeping shiver ran up his spine as he continued to eye the web of roots, half-expecting to see two glowing eyes staring back, or a creature emerging from the shadows with ferocious talons gleaming with hunger.

  Spooked by his own growing unease, he moved on , deciding the fish wasn’t worth angering the reclusive creature. Stepping carefully, he navigated the treacherous network of roots, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he moved in the direction, he hoped would be Ruinstead.

  He’s slip back under the cover of darkness, find the trapdoor beneath the Waymakers Rest, and figure out what happened to Toby. He couldn’t just leave him—he needed to know. He owed him that much! He had to find a way to help.

  For the rest of the day, he wondered aimlessly through the never-ending forest, no obvious path in site. The occasional scrape of talons and rustle of feathers behind him served as an ever-present reminder, he was being followed.

  As the daylight burned away, the warm radiating heat beneath his injured skin lingered, and with each step, he felt increasingly rejuvenated. His mottled bruises fading, and his aching muscles softening, hardly noticeable.

  By the evening, he almost felt his old self again—his body moving with ease and his belly appeased, it no longer pained him with hunger. With a renewed sense of strength, he quickened his pace through the ever-changing landscape of the forest, when eventually the towering trees gradually gave way to smaller, more tightly grouped trunks with milky white bark.

  Horizontal stripes of crusty black bark up their length, leading to cluster of prickly green branches, through which a youthful twilight trickled through the forest. Ember was staring at the colourful rays of light, lost in thought, his feet trudging along underneath him when a gentle and sweet humming floated through the trees. It was a beautiful alluring melody, the epitome of all things feminine, and he felt his curiosity spark pulling him towards the entrancing tune.

  The melody got lounder and louder until it felt as it was all around enveloping him as if a warm blanket of ignorant bliss, so it felt quite by accident that he stumbled into a vast clearing. The sweet humming stopped, and he noticed he the ancient, towering trees that encircled him, leaning in as if scrutinising his presence. Above, the sky appeared as pitch black disc full of glittering stars—as if gazing up a chimney of trees.

  Was it nighttime already? He thought, bewildered.

  Not dwelling on the sudden shift in time, his eyes fixed on the centre of the clearing, where a willow stood—ancient, timeless, its presence seeming as old as the world itself.

  The graceful form of the willow seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, its branches swaying with an almost fluid elegance. At is base, two angular trunks split, reaching outward at strange angles before merging upward, only to split once more into two limb-like branches. As he took in the tree as a whole, it seemed to take the form of a posed dancer, arms stretched high, poised in eternal motion—frozen in time. At the top of the tree, drooping branches—resembling braided hair—swayed gently, their tips skimming the calm pool below, the movement a soft whisp in the breeze.

  His eyes took in the tree, mesmerised, until the sudden realisation struck him.

  The Dancing Tree.

  “Meet me at the Dancing Tree,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, repeating the words from that night when Fern had grabbed him, as a rush of emotions surged through him. This was the tree! It had to be, he realised, his heart pounded with mix of overwhelming excitement as the weight of the revelation settled in. This was the tree he was supposed to find his mother at. He had spent nearly a year searching for with Toby, starved, exhausted... and now, here it was. He’d finally found it.

  The excitement was short-lived, like fleeting spark of a sputtering fire. He had imagined it so differently—Fern sitting beneath the branches, his mother next to him, her smile warm and loving, as if they had been apart for only a couple of hours.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Instead, the vision shattered, replaced by the grim mental image of their burnt bodies, the painful realisation sinking in—they would never return. Fern had never made it to the Dancing Tree with his mother. With a deafening shout of anguish and tormented rage, Ember kicked a rock, sending it hurtling across the ground and splashing into the water beneath the Dancing Tree.

  “You promised,” he roared, as if daring Fern to show himself. Tears welling up in his eyes, hot and bitter.

  “Shush, shush, shush.” The voice cut through the silence, gentle yet commanding, drifting through the air flirtatious and harmonic, music his ears, like a gentle whisper of sweet nothings.

  Ember spun on his heels, barely paying any attention to the throbbing in his foot. It didn’t matter anymore, he thought, his eyes searched desperately for the source of that soft, alluring voice.

  Where had it come from? He mused, looking about desperately.

  Then, his auburn eyes locked onto something… a figure?

  Yes, a lady, he realised. She stood in the pool beneath the Dancing Tree, partially obscured by the willow’s low-hanging, majestic branches.

  Then, without so much as a ripple, she parted them and stepped forward, her full form revealed. Ember’s throat tightened, and he let out a soft gasp, as though the air had been stolen from his lungs.

  She was majestic, mysterious—almost divine—in her graceful movement, the water moulding to her will. The surface of the water mirrored her silvery skin, clinging to her just above the curve of her hips, teasing and tracing the soft lines of her form in a gentle caress. Her long golden hair cascaded around her, seeming to glow in the dim light, while her violet eyes gleamed with an alluring intensity. Tiny petal shaped scales covered her form and shimmered in the dim light, iridescent and sleek, mirroring the moon’s reflection on a calm ocean’s surface.

  She had scales? Ember wondered, not really sure why it mattered, his mind flicking with confusion, not sure why it felt so strange. Everybody has scales, didn’t they? It didn’t matter, though. Did it? No… he supposed it didn’t, he mused, not really knowing why, the thought drifting away as quickly as it had come.

  “Come closer, join me,” the beautiful woman beckoned, her voice pitch perfect and beautiful, laced with seductive playfulness. Her long, sleek arms gesturing toward him, inviting him closer.

  He obeyed, stepping forward with a strange certainty, drawn towards her appealing embrace.

  Why am I listening to her? She was beautiful yes, but I have never cared for such things. Her voice, though? It’s as soft as an angel’s kiss, yes, that’s what’s pulling me in.

  She continued,

  “The night is beautiful, and the stars shine as they always have. Can we not share this moment—just you and I, beneath this eternal sky… Come. Swim with me?”

  He took another hesitant step, struggling to maintain control. Every fibre of his being longed to join the mysterious woman in the pool. It felt so right, yet so wrong—like resisting the allure of something sweet and addicting. A fog clouded his mind, warning him he was being lured, seduced by some primal instinct he couldn’t fully grasp.

  Her voice broke the silence once more, dripping with ancient seductive essence.

  “Come to me, and I am yours—completely” She gestured, fixing him with her wide violet eyes, as if silently pleading for him to join her.

  Ember’s foot twitched involuntarily forward and then halted.

  This wasn’t right! He puzzled, his thoughts scrambled, confused and disoriented.

  For the first time, her calm, flirtatious smile faltered, and the mysterious woman’s facade shattered. She lunged forward with a venomous snarl. The water parting before her, long silvery fingers outstretched toward him.

  “You would dare refuse me? A Daughter of the Water?” She screeched, the words hanging in the air, charged with ancient, unspoken power, as her lips curled back to reveal as row of hideous shark-like teeth—sharp and pointed. All previous appeal vanishing in an instant.

  Ember stubbled backwards in alarm, inches from her grasp,

  “You’re a water demon,” he shouted looking up, his voice shrill with fear, “you’re a monster!”

  The creature towered over him, completely exposed to the night air, her ankles still submerged in the perfectly calm water, her profile gleaming against the starlight above.

  Her anger vanished as quickly as it had arrived, she cocked her head with a calm, unsettling stillness. The she leaned over him, her posture almost tender and protective, a look of motherly pity spreading across her face—as if she sympathized him for his ignorance, not for his helpless fear.

  “You are but a pup, strayed too far from your mother’s teat,” she whispered, more for her own benefit, rather than his.

  As if that was all the explanation she needed, she smiled with twisted glee like a young maiden who had just been praised for her beauty, restoring her self-assurance. Then with a fluid motion, she slipped backwards into the cool, dark water.

  Feeling momentarily out of danger, Ember hesitantly rose and crept slowly forward, leaning against an outstretch branch of the Dancing Tree as he inched closer to the pool.

  “Wha...” His voice faltered, unable to form words. He cleared his throat, then tried again,

  “What are you?” Realising his mistake almost immediately, he quickly corrected himself, “Umm, sorry. I meant to say, who are you? I’m Ember”

  She turned her silvery form toward him, looking him over as though deciding whether to humour him with an answer. After a long, awkward silence, she let out a snort of disgust, seeming surprised he hadn’t run away yet.

  “A demon? A monster?” she paused for a heartbeat before adding, “Foolish child”

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you, I…” he blurted out without thinking, abashed, the heat rising in his cheeks.

  Anticipating his apology, she raised her hand with a dismissive gesture and continued in a flat, emotionless tone,

  “I am what I have always been, little flame. The water knows my name, but you may call me Luriana”

  Little flame? The title puzzled him.

  The finality in her tone told Ember not to press the matter further. Instead, he decided to change his approach, hoping to glean some other piece of information.

  “Um… nice to meet you Luriana” Without giving her an opportunity to speak he continued, “My mother’s friend Fern, before he died that is, told me to find this tree and wait for him?”

  “Shush, Shush” Lurianna mouthed silently, pressing a silvery finger to her pale lips.

  Once she was sure she had his attention, her hand dropped back into the water without so much as a ripple she continued speaking.

  “Questions, always questions… Do you seek truth little flame, or perhaps only comfort” She tilted her head, truly taking him in for the first time. “You stir a memory… perhaps a someone.” Lurianna seemed to drift off into deep thought before progressing with her speech. “Yes, you carry a scent about you. Something ancient, something misplaced”

  Lurianna ceased speaking and cocked her head again, sniffing the air, as her violet eyes scanned the distant treeline, searching.

  Uncaring and agitated that her words only left him with more questions, Ember drew in a quick breath preparing to ask again. But to his surprise, Lurianna spoke first, her gaze returning to meet his.

  “Not dead” she admitted so casually it caught Ember off guard, her voice almost a breath.

  This revelation hit Ember with a blow, leaving him mentally more stunned than his collision with the alley wall.

  “Not dead!” he shouted with glee, the words escaping before he could stop them, echoing through the clearing. He noticed Luriana flinch, the loud noise upsetting her as she raised her hands to her ears. Realising his mistake, he lowered his tone and continued after a deep, steadying breath.

  “You mean, he’s alive? Somewhere out there” he said, gesturing to the forest and the further world.

  Could my mother be alive? he thought, a deep sensation like butterflies fluttering in his gut welling up inside. Could she really be. It was too much to hope for, but he had to ask.

  “I mean exactly that” Luriana retorted, the repetition obviously agitating her. Then, as if trying to anticipate his thoughts, she pressed on. “Why Fernan sent you here… that remains a mystery, even to me, little flame” The she paused, as if mulling over some private jest, before adding with a sly smile. “Though I suspect you were to be much younger…” A flicker of something—hungry amusement—flashing in her eyes.

  Fern is alive! Why hasn’t he come for me? And whose body was lying next to my mother’s? He asked himself, his mind a drowning in a sea of questions, each one more painful than the last.

  Ember met Luriana’s deep violet gaze, his heart pounding in his chest, and asked, “Do you know if my mother…?”

  “Of that I am certain,” she replied without hesitation, a pitiful look replacing her previous expression of amusement.

  Agitated, grief and frustration spilling over, he pressed without thinking,

  “Okay, will you tell me where Fern is!”

  “Yes,” she said immediately, a small smile tugging at her sealed lips.

  Realising she was toying with him, savouring the opportunity punish him for his abruptness, he took a moment to compose himself, before selecting his next words with care.

  “I am sorry,” he said with a gentle tone before pushing onwards, keeping his voice steady obscuring the urgency that threatened to seep through “Do you know where Fern is now?”

  This could change everything! He considered, realising if Fern was alive and he could find him, he would have all the answers. Answers to all the questions that kept him awake at night. Questions that haunted his dreams.

  “Ah, an astute question.” She mused, ignoring the apology and clapping her hands with mock severity, a hint of amusement in her voice as she continued speaking, “The earth swallows what the sky forgets, but there he remains”

  Seeing the puzzled look on Ember’s face she let out an exasperated sigh and spoke again.

  “Beneath the roots, where no winds blow, I swallow light—and birth your woe.

  Ember puzzled it over in his mind desperately trying to figure it out, ignoring the infuriating, incredulous look upon Luriana’s face. Swallow light. Beneath the root. He pondered, mulling the words over in his mind. Beneath the roots. Beneath the ground. Under the ground. Mines.

  “The Ruinstead Mines.” He shouted.

  “Well done” Lurianna said smiling with mock severity.

  All those unanswered questions—just out of reach, two leagues outside Ruinstead. He thought, lost for words. Ember stood motionless for what felt like a long time watching as Luriana’s silvery form drifted aimlessly through the water. She appeared unbothered by his gaze and seemed content to wait for him to speak.

  Just then, a thought struck him. “Do you know the men who killed my mother?” he blurted out.

  Luriana froze, as though the water itself had locked her in place, and, as before, she lingered in silence what felt like an eternal age before she began speaking. “Not one for soft questions, are you, little flame?” Drifting closer, before speaking again. “I hold favour for Fernan, so one question you got.”

  “One question, is that all? ”

  “Oh yes. Questions hold power and everything has a cost. And you will see—sooner or later.” Then Luriana spoke in a flat, monotone voice as though her mind had wondered she continued further. “I will name your path and guide you forward. Three questions you may ask, little flame—but the water remembers all. Will you let it remember you?”

  “What do you want?” Ember asked hesitantly, suspicion settling in.

  Luriana smiled showing her sharp teeth again with a mischievous smile.

  “A memory. Not one of your choosing—oh no, that would be too kind, too cheap. The water will pluck what it finds the sweetest”

  Ember hesitated. “How do I know you won’t take something—”

  “Important?” her voice soft and angelic like a lullaby. “But that’s the thrill, isn’t it little flame?” She leaned in even closer again. “Refuse, and wander blind. Accept, and lose a shade of yourself… you may reclaim it, you may not.”

  Unable to find any words Ember nodded his approval, his heart beating unnaturally fast in his chest.

  Luriana licked her lips hungerly, and her silvery hand darted out, pressing wet against his temple.

  He felt a cold rush, then nothing.

  Something feels wrong, he thought, as if some thought was on the tip of his tongue, then it was gone.

  Luriana licked her lips again, enjoying the distress. Then in an instant she resumed her enigmatic charm as if nothing unusual had happened.

  “Who killed my mother,” Ember reminded her his voice impatient. He was tiring of these games and riddles, and she was making him increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Noxan. But he is but a link, rusted, corrupted and broken” Lurianna said smiling, before continuing in a whisper, only inches from his face, her breath lingering in his ear. “Alas. You will not kill him,”

  Ember felt the heat from her body radiated towards him, and he saw the depth and knowledge in her alien eyes. Her scent sweet, almost inviting, and for a brief terrifying moment, he felt the same allure that had drawn him in earlier stir within him before she spoke again, ending the enchantment.

  “So close… yet too young”, she murmured, slipping partially back into the water, a playful grin on her face disappearing,

  Ember watched as her gaze drifted once more, as if she were seeing something far off, distant. He waited for what felt like the right amount of time, realising she was either finished speaking or had forgotten what she was saying.

  “Umm, where do I need to go?”

  “Seek the Gilded Mountain. Then, with an eerie whisper—more in line with her previous demeaner—she added, “…or what remains of them. That is your destination, but the Rusted Wreath watches all and your path is dark and…”

  “The Gilded Mountain? I can’t go looking for a mountain.” He blurted out, interrupting her. He had asked the wrong question, it was too vague. Stupid. Before continuing in a calmer voice, Ember took a deep breath, unwilling to be chastised again. “I have to rescue Fern, he will help me find Toby”

  Luriana fixed Ember with a solemn gaze, a flicker of annoyance burning deep within the violet hue.

  “Rescue him? That road leads only to death, little flame.”

  “But I have too!” He protested defiantly.

  She chuckled, as if anticipating the response.

  “So noble. So brave. A pity.” She paused again for a moment, then spoke, her voice taking on a more distant, self-reflection tone.

  “Fern will not thank me. But the wind aids the dragonfly… it does not choose its flight”

  Luriana slipped into the water, submerging her body fully, with only her head remaining above the smooth surface of the pool. “Give me your final question, I grow weary, little flame,” she murmured.

  Ember collected himself structuring the words in his mind.

  “How do I get out of this forest?”

  “Go south, where the dark sings louder than the light.” Luriana extended a silvery finger out of the water, pointing out into the dense forest to her right. “What awaits is not for me to name… only for you to discover, or become.”

  She shifted her hand, pointing directly over Ember’s shoulder,

  “…or else creep back to Ruinstead’s feeble lights, to seek your friend, and to live a safe little life.”

  Dropping her hand, she fixed Ember with a cool, knowing gaze. A faint, sly smile spread across her lips.

  “The choice, as ever, is yours.”

  Then she was gone, the final words curling like smoke in the clearing, dissolving, leaving only the whispers of the willow branches against the water. The words taking root in Ember’s mind, like briars, sharp and inescapable.