Page 92 of Bewitched By the Djinn
We follow them deeper into the forest.
Bennet takes my hand and squeezes. Numb with shock, I grip him back like he’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.
These are our friends.People like us, trapped here.The words snag in my mind, catching like thorns.
How did they get trapped here? Why haven’t they tried to get back to our world, or have they? Did they come here on purpose? Why? Did they know about Aetheria and djinn—that we are potentially related to djinn, even? Why didn’t they ever tell me?
After endless minutes of walking through the trees, we stop. Mom chants, and then the forest in front of us wavers, like an image flickering in and out of focus.
Once the whole group moves forward ten feet, she chants again and the forest trembles behind us.
Mom. She’s created a null space, devoid of magic, to mask the area.
We keep going and within minutes, an entire treetop village appears before us, tucked within the forest overhead.
The canopies are laced with suspended walkways weaving through the branches. Houses nestle in the crooks of enormous trees, their walls built from carefully joined wood, their roofs lined with woven leaves and moss.
Water trickles through a cleverly designed system, flowing from the canopy into carved basins, filtering down through the layers of the village. Bridges arc between treehouses, some swinging in the wind, others solid enough for multiple people to walk across.
It’s incredible. A world suspended above the ground.
We climb up into the nearest treetop via a solid ladder with rope supports and then Mom leads us to one of the treehouses, its entrance framed by draping vines and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns.
She pushes open the wooden door. Inside is a cozy interiorwith polished floors and woven rugs. There’s even a small bathroom tucked into one corner, and the scent of fresh herbs lingers in the air.
“Get settled, take a breath. Then come to the main cabin. It’s where we keep the kitchens and shared spaces. You can’t miss it, it’s right in the center. We’ll eat. And talk.” Then she leaves.
In a daze, I turn to Bennet. He opens his arms and I step into him.
Helen slips past us into one of the bedrooms.
He wraps me up in the warmth of his embrace and I take a full breath for the first time in hours.
I don’t know how long we stand there, wrapped in each other while I draw on the strength of his arms around me.
Eventually, we break apart.
“Are you okay?” His eyes search mine.
I take a deep breath. “I will be.”
The shock has started to ebb and curiosity has surged in its place.
He takes my pack from my back. “Come. Let’s clean up and then go get some answers.”
Thirty minutes later, Helen, Bennet, and I enter the main cabin. Wooden beams stretch overhead, crisscrossed with vines weaving through the structure. Lanterns hang at varying heights, unlit since sunlight steams in through open, glassless windows.
Long wooden tables line the space, worn smooth from years of use, their surfaces cluttered with bowls and platters of food. People sit together, talking in quiet, easy conversation, sharing meals like one large family.
Mom leads us toward a round table in the corner, slightly apart from the others for a semblance of privacy. Dad gesturesfor us to sit as he grabs a clay pitcher of water, pouring it into carved wooden cups.
The scent of cooked meat, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread fills the air, making my stomach throb with hunger.
“Eat something first. Then we talk.”
I don’t argue. I grab a plate, loading it with whatever is closest—a spiced grain dish, slices of some kind of roasted root vegetable, chunks of seared meat. Bennet and Helen do the same, and for a few minutes, conversation fades in favor of eating.
Finally, when our plates are nearly empty and my stomach is no longer an aching pit, Mom clears her throat. “Tell us everything. The kids. Are they okay? Kevin? Jackie? Mimi?”
