A NEW LIFE

I awoke sitting under a large tree with my back against the trunk, the last rays of the sun catching my eyes as the dark of night chased it over the horizon. Something was not quite right; that's not to say something was wrong, far from it, it just wasn’t right. My thoughts were clearer than they had been in all my years. My senses seemed sharper and more refined.

For a moment, I became lost as my body absorbed a thousand different sensations. I marveled at how my eyes took in the scenery around me, seeing further than ever before. I could make out the intricate details of trees and hillsides leagues away. I watched as a bird leapt from a branch and tore up into the sky, seeing every wingbeat in perfect clarity as it furiously gained altitude.

My nose picked up hundreds of fresh scents—the earthy aroma of decaying leaves damp on the forest floor, the sharp, green scent of freshly cut grass from the towering larch trees, and the deep, smoky richness of the oak that surrounded me. I could smell and even taste the salt in the air blowing from behind me, leading me to wonder if I was close to the sea.

Whispers of jasmine, sage, and elderberry teased my nose before fading into the chilled air around me. For a fleeting moment, I could have sworn I even smelled the dewy twilight settling on the low-hanging leaves nearby.

Suddenly, a biting wind swept through the trees, making the branches groan softly and rustling the leaves with a sound like nature's endless song. The cold wind whipped across my back, sending ice-cold shivers through my body. I realized, with a start, that I was sitting naked in the middle of a forest, the dark of night approaching fast.

I began rubbing my upper arms, trying to infuse some warmth back into my shivering body. Something was different—my pale, almost translucent skin was firm and unblemished. My stomach was taut and flat. Instinctively, I rubbed my face, finding it smooth, no longer etched with the wrinkles and lines of old age.

I hopped from one foot to the other, feeling the cold dew soak into my feet and make them feel ten times colder. For a moment, I longed to be back in Vermuila, bathed in the warm glow of Villas’s presence by the river. His last words echoed in my head—his "gift" to me. Had he done this? Had he taken away the years of pain my body had carried? Not dead, but renewed. My hand went to my cheek, tracing the familiar scar that remained—a constant companion since my misguided youth, when I'd tried to fend off a mugger. It was still there, a reminder that despite this new body, I was still me.

The last rays of the sun died and twilight brought with it an even deeper cold. I have seen what the cold can do to a man. I have seen limbs blacken and wither from exposure. I have held the hands of many as we have cut away the cold's black kiss, in the hope that we may save them. A few we did, but not many. Those we did save were never the same again, former shadows at best. Relegated from hero to cursed in the blink of an eye. I had to find some cover, some clothes at least or risk joining the shadows myself.

I scanned the forest, trees and foliage stretching endlessly in every direction. I could have been a hundred leagues from the nearest inn or village. Judging by the withering trees and decaying leaves around me, autumn had taken hold, though it hadn't yet reached the treetops, where the leaves remained green and supple. If I could scale the trees, I might gather enough fresh leaves to fashion some makeshift clothing. It wouldn’t last long, but it could get me through the night.

The larch and oak nearby offered little help. The larch might provide shelter if I could break off enough branches, but the oak’s butterfly-like leaves would do little to cover me. I needed something better. I darted through the trees, surprised by how light I felt on my feet. The cold might be numbing me, I thought, granting me vigor I shouldn’t have.

In less than half a bell, I found what I was looking for—a massive Jati tree, its thick trunk towering high into the darkening sky. It was a shipbuilder’s dream, its bark gray and smooth, its size enough to make ten men with outstretched arms struggle to encircle it. But the leaves—large, teardrop-shaped and perfect for clothing—only grew near the top, at least a hundred feet above.

The Jati leaves were ideal, each as wide as three or four hands, with long petioles that would serve well for making garments. I calculated I’d need at least twenty leaves for a basic tunic, with extra for foot coverings. More if I could manage it—a double layer would be warmer and offer better protection.

My fingertips were already numb, so I wasted no time. I started climbing, expecting the task to be grueling, but to my surprise, it was easy. My body felt light and agile. Halfway up, I slipped, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I found myself hanging by one arm. Yet I had the strength to pull myself up, swinging effortlessly to another branch. I reached the canopy within moments, amazed that I wasn’t winded or sweating. Not a single bead of perspiration dotted my brow.

The top of the Jati was laden with fresh, spring-like leaves. I pulled several and fashioned crude pauldrons to cover my shoulders. Instantly, I felt warmer as the wind could no longer steal my body’s heat. I took my time crafting a tunic, weaving the leaves together in overlapping layers and slipping it over my head. It reached just above my knees, providing enough coverage to stave off the worst of the cold.

I dropped the remaining leaves and foot coverings to the forest floor, not wanting them to tear during my descent. Again, I was surprised at how quickly I made it down the tree. My body didn’t feel drained or fatigued. In fact, aside from the persistent chill, I felt sprightly in a way I hadn’t in years.

Once on the ground, I donned the rest of my makeshift clothing, drying my feet as best I could before securing the leaf shoes. I then found small twigs and branches, using extra petioles to lash together soles for my shoes, snapping them halfway down for flexibility. It wasn’t perfect, but it would protect my feet from the cold earth.

Finally, I snapped several large branches from a nearby fern tree, shaking off the dew and fashioning a portable shelter. It wasn’t raining yet, but if it did, this would keep me dry for a few bells.

Feeling warmer and more confident that I would survive the night, I decided to head south. The scent of salt had faded in the twilight, but if the sea lay in that direction, I might find a port or fishing village. At the very least, I could orient myself by the coast and figure out where I was.

The night grew colder, but I was dry, and the wind couldn’t reach my skin through the layers of leaves. The moon hung low in the sky, its bright light illuminating the forest well enough for me to navigate the trees without too much trouble. Still, I tread carefully, knowing that even a minor injury could spell disaster.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I walked for maybe two bells, stopping once to apply more lashings to my stick-and-leaf shoes when some of the twigs worked themselves loose. As I tested my footing, I heard faint giggling from twenty or thirty feet to my left.

I wasn’t alone.

Without turning, I slowed my movements, trying to make as little noise as possible. My senses sharpened once more, my ears picking up the sounds of the forest, my heart quickening as I listened for any other signs of life.

“Hahaaha he”

“Heheheh ha”

I could hear two distinct voices, high-pitched, almost like children giggling. Why would children be out in a forest, especially at this time of night? I turned around, pretending to still be focused on testing my footwear. If they were with a caravan or a traveling troupe, I should be able to see lights or hear movement among the trees. Slowly, I lifted my right leg, pretending to test the ground beneath it, while raising my eyes to scan the forest.

The giggling stopped. I moved aside a few branches, peering through the foliage toward where the voices had come from, but saw nothing. The night was still; even the wind had died, leaving the forest frozen in place, like a still painting in the halls of a great castle.

“He doesn’t smell right! What’s that on his feet?”

“He doesn’t look right either. There are trees—he has trees for feet!”

The two voices, squeaky and curious, now came from behind me. They sounded as if I wasn’t even there, just chatting away as though my presence was inconsequential.

Without turning, I spoke softly, “They’re just some temporary shoes I fashioned from leaves and sticks. I find myself in an unusual situation, but for now, they’re doing the job.”

“Who’s he talking to? I don’t see anybody else here.”

“They’re always strange, the big ones. Once, I saw one trying to draw a picture of a spider in the snow with his—you know what. Poor thing could only manage five legs. He got so frustrated, he started kicking the snow and fell over, ending up with a mouth full of yellow snow.”

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the image the squeaky voice had just described. I knew a few men to whom that story could easily apply.

“Erm... Marie, I think he might be able to hear us.”

“Don’t be silly, Anna. You know the big ones cannot see or hear us.”

“I’m afraid Anna is right, Marie. I can hear you. I cannot see you just yet, but there’s no need to be frightened. I mean no harm. I’m going to turn around slowly now.”

I turned as gently and slowly as possible, trying not to startle them. I had no intention of scaring anyone—perhaps they could even help me in this strange place.

“Anna! Run!”

As I turned, I heard rustling in two places. Despite my calm approach, I had frightened them away. “Please wait! I only wanted to talk,” I called after them, but the night was silent once more. They clearly wanted nothing to do with me. They had run off in the direction I had just come from, and not wanting to retrace my steps, I continued on my way through the forest.

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I walked through the night, eventually stopping by a small lake just as the sun began to rise. Making a makeshift bed in the split of a large tree, I decided to rest. The world would warm up a bit by then, and I could travel at a faster pace, hopefully finding civilization before the day ended.

I didn’t find it difficult to fall asleep. The sun was still low when I woke up and guessed no more than three bells had passed. Stripping off my leaf clothes, I laid them out in the sun to dry and took the opportunity to bathe in the lake. The water was cold but not unbearable, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

“That’s him there, in the lake. He called us by our names! He can hear us!”

“Now, Anna, Marie, are you sure? It’s only in legends that humans could speak to us Faye. They’re just stories we tell for fun.”

“Marie is right. I was there—he said he could hear us but not see us. Maybe he was just looking the other way. The big ones are stupid like that.”

The voices were back, this time joined by a deeper, softer voice—earthy, like a man trying to talk to a child. I didn’t want to frighten them again, so I slowly waded to the center of the lake, making sure to move as non-threateningly as possible.

“Anna and Marie are correct,” I called out, keeping my voice calm. “I can hear you. I mean you no harm and won’t move from this spot until you say it’s safe to do so. My name is—”

The deeper voice interrupted me. “I don’t believe it! This must be some kind of trick. Elbar, Dalby—is this your doing? Come out now. I will not have you frightening the young ones like this.”

“I assure you, I mean no harm,” I replied, staying in place. “If you prefer, we don’t have to talk much, but could you at least point me toward the nearest town?”

Silence stretched on for several long moments. The water seemed colder as I waited, my senses straining. Had they disappeared again? Why were they so disturbed that I could hear them? After a while, I decided I wasn’t going to get any answers standing in a lake. Slowly, I began moving toward the shore where my clothes were drying.

“Eldis! He’s coming out of the water!”

“Yeah, and he still doesn’t smell right. And look at him—he’s stranger than the others.”

“I’m just retrieving my clothes,” I said calmly. “If I stay in this water much longer, I’ll shrivel up and die.” While not the full truth, it was a reasonable excuse. I was suddenly all too aware of my nakedness in the water and, modesty aside, I preferred to be clothed if anything else happened.

With no further protests, I stepped out of the lake, drying myself as best as I could with some nearby leaves, and dressed in my makeshift clothing. I walked a few feet to a nearby tree and sat down, fastening my stick-and-leaf shoes.

“So, Eldis,” I called out, “I take it you’re the elder here. Why don’t you come out and show yourself? I’ll stay on this side of the lake, I promise. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Marie, Anna—go back now and tell Elbar what’s happening. Tell him I’m talking to a human. Have him approach cautiously—I’m still not sure what this is, but it may be dangerous. Hurry now.”

The trees rustled as Anna and Marie scampered away through the forest.

“Alright, human. You stay exactly where you are. If you move a muscle, I won’t be responsible for what happens to you. Do we understand each other?”

Eldis’s voice had deepened, growing more authoritative. It seemed a bit over the top just to have a conversation, but I saw no harm in complying.

“I’m quite content where I am,” I replied. “You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you. Now, why don’t you show yourself so we can talk face-to-face?”

The trees to my left rustled, parting as a small figure emerged. He was no bigger than a large pitcher, his skin pale and tinged with the grey of old stone. His hair was a wild tangle of silver strands, and his eyes glowed faintly like embers in a dying fire. Wings, delicate and translucent, sprouted from his back—large for his body, patterned with purple and yellow veins that shimmered in the early light. He flew into the air, circling above me before hovering just a few feet away.

“I am Eldis of Elbaram,” he announced, his voice rich with authority despite his size. “First of my name and second to the High Priest of the Grey Faye.”

Before I could respond, something astonishing happened. As Eldis floated closer, his form began to shimmer. His small, Faye-like body stretched and elongated, his wings vanishing as he morphed mid-air. By the time his feet touched the ground, he had transformed into a tall, lean man. His skin was still pale, but now human in appearance, and his silver hair cascaded over his shoulders. He stood before me, no longer a small sprite but a fully-formed human.

“Well then,” I said, staring at him in amazement, “I see the Faye are full of surprises.”