Wyn pulled his cloak tighter around him, trying to shield himself against the unrelenting onslaught of wind and rain. He could hardly see more than ten paces in front of him, the darkness of the storm only exacerbated by the lack of light spirits to guide him. As did most natural spirits, they had fled from the forces in the tempest.
Strangely, the purple spirit continued to hover around him, glowing defiantly against the darkness of the storm. It didn’t do much, but he was strangely grateful for it, providing some constant light against the only other sources of illumination: occasional flashes of lightning, and the ominous looking storm spirits in the distance, which appeared as red and purple streaks of light, zigzagging through the haze. Most natural spirits wouldn’t harm people, but storm spirits were one of the rare few that he’d heard of doing just that.
Still, even as every sane part of him urged Wyn to stop, to return to Straetum, he kept walking, one step after the next. He hated acting on impulse like this; It was so… Corrin-like, but he had made up his mind, and would see it through till the end. Even the spearwood was nothing more than a shadow in the dark as he trudged past it. He was thankful though, as it acted as a landmark, and he knew he was headed in the right direction.
By the time he reached the spirit glades, Wyn was soaked and chilled to his bones, and he couldn’t help but shiver as he looked upon the threshold, marked by a border of willow trees. Even after coming this far, he felt a strong sense of apprehension, and to his own shock, even considered turning away to go back in the storm, rather than take another step. After a deep breath though, he crossed the boundary.
The storm vanished.
Well, it didn’t entirely go away, but the winds that were once strong enough to bend trees, and the seemingly endless rainfall dissipated to merely a cool breeze and a drizzle, as though the maelstrom were no more than a light spring shower.
Wyn let out a soft gasp, within the sanctuary of the spirit glades, it seemed all the light spirits from around the countryside had gathered to wait out the storm. The air was filled with them, and they cast the woods in a soft, ethereal glow, which felt somehow like a dawn or twilight, but was altogether different, as if the light wasn’t real, and he’d instead gained the ability to see in the dark.
Even the sense of apprehension had evaporated, like a puddle of water on a hot day. The forest instilled in him a sense of serenity, and his labored breathing grew easier as he felt his mind becoming more relaxed. It seemed like a blessing, but Wyn knew the rumors of the spirit glades, and he remembered what had happened the last time he’d ventured into these woods. Though he hadn’t realized it then, the glades relaxed those who entered it, making them less wary of its many dangers.
Amidst the pulsating lights, Wyn continued his trek, the forest quiet save for the quiet pattering of the weakened rain. Small shapes darted around in the underbrush, though whatever they were, they seemed to have no interest in him, staying away and out of sight whenever possible. Spirits in a variety like he’d never seen hovered in the air around him, some lazily floating, some darting around in the air, some even taking the shapes of mundane creatures—albeit translucent and improperly sized. Thousands, maybe even millions of spirits flitted around in the air. It was so thick with them it was almost hard to see.
Where had all this been before? When they’d entered the spirit glades as children, perhaps there had been more spirits than normal, but this was more spirits than Wyn had ever seen in his entire life, all seemingly gathered in one place.
As he walked, he noticed the same purple spirit from before, or was it a different one? It was hard to tell amidst the crowd of light spirits. It seemed to be following him, but he was unable to pay it much heed, instead focusing on his goal. The path to the pool from before was so hazy in his memories that he could hardly remember it, but he tried his best to follow the route they’d originally taken, deeper and deeper into the woods.
The mist began to thicken around him, which was the first indication that he was heading in the right direction, and he quickened his pace, leaning heavily on his good leg. A branch snapped to his right, Wyn’s head snapped over to look at it, his hand on his sword, but he didn’t see anything. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be interested in him. Still, he took his sword from its sheath and walked with it in front of him, nervous about the threats that may be present, hiding in the mist.
Wyn started as a large crashing of branches sounded from in front of him. Something large was headed his way. He readied his blade, heart racing as the sounds grew closer and closer. Just then, he caught sight of a large shape moving through the trees. It was enormous, a tall, thin creature the height of the trees themselves, he could only make out the basic shape through the fog, but when two more showed up behind it, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
Wyn threw himself behind a tree, trying to hide from the incoming behemoths as they finally drew into view. The realization struck him at once: it wasn’t three creatures… it was three legs. Stretching up past the trees were three fur-covered legs thicker than his wingspan, arranged in a triangular formation. Behind them, hanging down from above the canopy, two long, feathery tails dragged through the underbrush, parting the mist wherever they went.
Wyn couldn’t even begin to comprehend the size of such a creature. If it rose above the canopy like he suspected it did, how did they never see it from outside the forest? The beast ambled past, seemingly unconcerned with Wyn entirely. Stunned, he couldn’t move from behind the tree, and just watched in awe as it passed over the course of almost thirty seconds, its tails dragging lazily behind it for almost ten paces. He expected it to shake the ground as it walked, but other than disturbing a few leaves, it seemed to be gentle with the underbrush itself, making him wonder what it had been doing to cause such a sound before.
As the behemoth disappeared into the trees the way he’d come, Wyn finally pulled himself away from the tree he’d been pressed against and kept walking into the forest. The beast’s passing had disturbed the mist in the area—a fact he was thankful for—allowing him to follow its path with his vision far less obscured, though he never came across the fallen trees or snapped branches he had heard.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Only minutes later, the mist began to part. And Wyn heard running water up ahead. He almost cried out in joy; he’d actually made it. Something else caught his ear though, a faint humming noise. Was it coming from up ahead? No, it was all around him, with a start he realized the nearby spirits were all pulsating in sync, it was the spirits themselves, all humming the same, melodious tune. Somehow, the rhythm seemed so familiar—Wyn froze.
It was the song. The one that he’d hear in his dreams, the one he’d almost convinced himself he’d imagined the last time they’d been here. Even now, eight years later, it stuck in his head, and he’d find himself humming it at random times; it was the same song!
Still, there was something about the humming… a certain essence to it that he couldn’t place, but he shoved the thought aside and strode forward confidently, humming the tune himself. As he did, the mists parted faster, and the spirits seemed to glow brighter as more and more gathered around him, like a thousand falling snowflakes catching the light of the moon.
One last step, and Wyn had left the trees, moving into the familiar clearing. A trickle of water fell quietly, feeding into a small pool of crystalline blue. Around the pool were flowers so vibrant and striking that they made the rest of the world seem a dull, washed-out canvas in comparison. Wyn fell to his knees at the edge of the pool.
“Please…” He said, “O’ great spirit. This humble servant beseeches you; I’ve come here to beg for your assistance. My friend has fallen into a dungeon, and I’m not strong enough to reach him. Please, grant me the strength to save him. I will pay any price if it means I can save my friend.” As he spoke, he felt the truth in those words. It was his fault Corrin had gotten stuck there in the first place, thus, it was his responsibility to get him back. Even if it meant his own life, his honor, and more importantly his friendship demanded he repay the debt he’d incurred.
The water remained unchanged.
Why is it you seek this power?
Wyn looked up as a female voice spoke in his head, but the glade remained as still as ever.
“To— to save my friend! I need it to save Corrin!”
So close, little one. But those are not the words you must speak. An ideal is still beyond you. But for now…
The surface of the pool rippled as though a tiny rock had been thrown into it, the ripples grew and grew until the water was shaped into a raging whirlpool. The melody of the spirits swelled, gaining in volume and intensity, crescendoing higher and higher as the spirits gathered around him began to flare with a blinding light.
The pond exploded. Droplets of water were sent spraying in every direction as a brilliant figure emerged from its depths. Though she looked the same as before, Wyn had only glimpsed her from afar, from behind a tree. Up close, he realized how little he’d actually seen of her. In all respects, only one word came to mind, Perfect. Not in the sense of being beautiful—though she was—but in how she had no imperfections at all. Her skin was perfectly smooth and unblemished, her long green hair, despite undulating lazily as if she were underwater, was devoid of tangles or knots. Her eyes glowed a deep blue and seemed to contain entire galaxies within their endless depth. She wore a white dress, though it didn’t move like fabric. Rather it seemed like a liquid that held to her body, flowing over it seamlessly. Unfurled behind her were four wings of blazing white fire, but even only a few feet away, Wyn didn’t feel any heat.
He fell to his knees, “Great Spirit! Thank you for heeding my call! I have come to request your aid. If there is anything I may do to serve–”
“I know why you have come Wyn,” She giggled, “Please, rise, it has been so long since you last came, allow me to see how you have grown.”
Wyn rose to his feet, confused. “You remember me? I—I’m honored, great one, I didn’t realize you even knew our names.”
She smiled warmly, “Of course I do. I can hear and see all that happens in this forest, every spirit here serves as my eyes and ears.” As if to emphasize it, several spirits flew up to her and began to spin around above her open palm.
“I see,” He started, “Well thank you for seeing to our safety then. I’m certain we would not have made it in or out without your guidance, Great Spirit.” Wyn bowed in gratitude, but the spirit only laughed.
“Please child, you may use my name, as an emissary, you deserve as much. Call me Iillia.”
Wyn’s head spun, “Thank you Great— Iillia. Though, if I may be so bold, your statement confuses me. What do you mean ‘as an emissary’?”
Iillia leaned in and squinted, as though she were looking for something, or had spotted food on Wyn’s face. “Ah I see, it has not yet sprouted.”
“Sprouted?”
“Yes, your blessing! The one I granted to you as a child. You should have been able to speak with Eia by now, but something has changed,” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “How curious, it should have manifested years ago, have you been watering it— er, suffusing it with the proper intent?”
Wyn opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words, all that came out was a confused, “Huh?”
Iillia sighed, “It seems most information about channeling and blessings does not reach these fertile grounds.” She looked off into the distance for a moment nostalgically before muttering to herself, “I am sorry Edrian. In this, we failed.”
“Wait, um, honored Iillia, what do you mean you granted it to me as a child?” Wyn stammered, “Wouldn’t I know if I had a spirit blessing? They say you know a blessing when you have it, like knowing how to breathe.”
“Take care to remember these words, Wyn, my favored child. When it comes to magic, there are always exceptions. Those who presume they know everything, are often those who know the least of all. Still, it should have been fine to leave you alone, unless something went wrong,” Iillia’s eyes twinkled, literally. She looked over Wyn’s shoulder and called out to someone other than him. “Eia, come speak with me, my daughter.”
Wyn turned his head to see the same purple spirit from earlier zip past him, a faint white tail like that of a comet trailing behind it. The spirit buzzed around excitedly before coming to a stop, hovering in the air just before Iillia, who looked at it in a way that seemed somehow maternal.
“I see,” Iillia said, smiling as the spirit hummed and flitted around just in front of her. Her gaze drifted up to Wyn and she raised an eyebrow, causing him to stiffen up, though he wasn’t sure why. “Oh really? He did that?”
Wyn swallowed a lump in his throat, “Honored spirit… what is happening?”
“This one has been watching you for a while now. Consider this me catching up.” Her listening became more intent for a moment, her gaze darkening as the stars in her eyes faded out, her face wracked with grief. “Oh… I understand now. I am so sorry, little one.”
“Um, it’s ok? Did I pass the test?” Wyn chuckled awkwardly.
Iillia closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, they contained the light of the stars once again. She smiled sadly, “I have no test for you Wyn. Step forward my child.”
Wyn took a deep breath and slowly reached his foot out towards the edge of the pool. Iillia still looked towards him expectantly. Summoning the last of his courage, he took that one last step.
You’re going to be a knight, right Wyn? What a beautiful dream.
His foot touched the water, and the forest burst into light.