Page 68 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“It’s more beautiful than Ninann ever told me,” Mireithren gasped.
“Your sister has been here before? Strange.”
“I’ll give you one guess as to who took her.”
Therat rolled his eyes.
Adon.
What would his older twin say now, after Therat spent so many years thinly concealing his distaste for Adon’s friendship with Ninann? He understood now the obsession driving his brother into the smiling woman’s arms. He would have to apologize whenever he saw Adon again. If he did.
“Do you think they areliraes, too? A bit on the nose for the gods, isn’t it?”
Mireithren snorted and broke into a bellow of laughter. “Ninann may be the perfect twin, but she insists she does not have aliraes. Still, I know she would marry Adon if he asked.” Mireithren wrinkled her nose.
“No offense, but I prefer the imperfect version. Your sister is…”
“Too sweet?” Mireithren offered without hesitation.
“Something like that.”
“Well, lucky for me at least,” Mireithren chuckled as she turned to walk away. “Come on, all this talk of my sister is ruining my day.”
Mireithren trekked off to the right, heading for the faintest of trails cutting between rock and dead trees. The hill had a gentle slope on the northern face, the trail they followed only switching back on itself once as they descended. The fog drew them in, a thin mist through which they could see shifting silver limbs with hands of green.
The world lost all warmth the closer they came to the edge of the great Siusir Forest. A dampness hung in the air, nothing like anything Therat had experienced before. He could taste the rains that seemed mere moments away, air soothing lungs that only knew the arid desert air.
They came at last to a line of silver-barked trees, pointed leaves of deep green beckoning them in. The trees towered above them and cast a deep shade over the forest. Mireithren smiled at Therat and took his hand.
“Let’s find your guide,” she said. They plunged into the Siusir Forest, the ancient child of the Goddess Kathiél.
The two had enough time to take one breath of the cold, still forest air before a figure stepped out from behind a tree in front of them. Dull green eyes set deep in a fawn-colored face and framed by straight ash-blonde hair looked at them.
The person did not even reach Mireithren’s shoulders; Therat estimated they could be no taller than six feet. Even the shortest of the Madhiri stood taller—albeit not much—than the stranger. A welcoming smile painted their face, softening every feature. Therat found it impossible to tell if the figure was a man or woman, child or fresh-faced adult. They wore mossy green pants and a cloak of shifting brown and green clasped at their throat. There was a soft etherealness about them, as if theydidn’t quite belong to this world and a weathered, ancient look in their faded green eyes.
“Long has it been since any of you have come to my home," the stranger said, voice as welcoming as dew on a cool spring morning. “I have greeted many wanderers in my time, but never two of you together. Most interesting. Where are you from, children?”
Mireithren spoke up. Always quick with a reply, never tongue-tied like Therat often was.
“We come from different places, depending on how far back in our journey we must go. From the south, or the west.”
The stranger swept their gaze over the two lovers. They nodded their head with a knowing smile, but about what Therat had no idea.
“The land of silver and shadow, the land of gold and fire. But you are friends, I see. Come, come.” The stranger smiled and turned, beckoning the two to follow.
Mireithren looked at Therat, who planted a swift kiss on her forehead before following. He had no idea what to expect, holding onto a vain hope that the voice he heard guided true and was not a delusion.
The guide took them on a winding path through the forest. The thin-limbed trees where they first appeared gave way to massive, ancient-looking beasts. They towered above Therat, limbs seeming to touch the sky itself, trunks as wide as the gazebo where he once drank away the pain every night. Twisting branches interlaced with one another, sometimes dipping down to kiss the ground before rising back up. Deep cracks ran through the silver bark, gnarled knots decorating the tree bases. Long beards of dark green moss hung from their limbs, some brushing the top of Therat’s head as he walked underneath their green boughs. Dark gray, almost black, lichen swirled in strange patterns over the silver bark.
The forest seemed alive, a song humming between the trees. Therat could see no birds, but their soft songs floated in the air. The guide hummed along as they walked, looking back often but never speaking. Therat and Mireithren walked in silence; it almost felt like the forest would lash out at them if they made too much noise.
After two hours of walking, Therat’s impatience got the better of him. He cleared his throat. Their guide stopped and turned back to face them.
“You have questions,neha?” they asked, one hand resting on a staff Therat had not noticed before.
“Youarea guide through the forest, yes?” Therat asked at last. Something about the person set him on edge.
“Not a guide.TheGuide. Yes, this is my role.” They took a step forward, a green glow around their short frame. “Long are my days and longer still the nights. I know many paths and hidden secrets of this land. Yet, it is not passage to the City of Trees you seek. No, no. Fire behind you, shadows ahead. A sacrifice to be given when the hour draws near.”
