Chapter 206
AURORA
The silver mist extends infinitely into all directions, thick and sickly sweet as it clings to my skin.
Every step feels heavier, and the pendant’s weak, flickering light barely cuts through the haze.
The whispers had stopped now, replaced by a suffocating silence that was making my heartbeat sound deafening.
I trip over a root hidden under the mist and land on my knees.
“Where am I?” I whisper, shaking all over.
The only response is the low hum of the pendant against my chest, its warmth small comfort against the seeping cold.
I force myself up and on, determined to move. My steps are uncertain; my sense of direction has long since been lost.
The mist seems to be alive–twisting and shifting with the intent, it seems, of denying me passage.
Then, out of nowhere, a wave of warmth washes over me… gentle yet all… engulfing. The mist starts to recede, curling away like wisps of smoke on the wind, and the world snaps into focus.
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My breath catches in my throat.
I now present the Ethereal Grove, whose boundaries are
bounded in silvered boles, towering far on high; dim–bought and soft radiancies play over mid that glimmer of their liquid bark heavy lumberings.
All of the leaves are like luminous growths; these roots cross and writhe upon each other quaintly, and trellis intricate patterns, stretching hitherward endlessly.
The air is thick with ancient, holy energy weighing me down… like some unseen, perhaps even sentient presence.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, stepping forth with great caution.
The grove seems to come alive in a way I have never felt. The trees hum softly, their vigor vibrating in the core of my soul.
I walk, and fruits are closer now. Each one of them carries an image flickering inside, like memories encapsulated in amber.
Curious, I reach out to touch it.
The moment my fingers brush against its skin, the world tilts.
A vision washes over me in an instant, too bright, too real. A wolf, so large and powerful; his fur black as midnight; his eyes a pair of shining gold, all ablaze with life.
He is standing at the side of a precipice, peering far beyond toward some aim out of sight.
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“This is Kael,” my brain hears whispered. The first alpha of Broken Ridge.
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The vision shifts once more, and Kael finds himself on his knees. before an aglow figure: the Moon Goddess herself.
Brilliant, the vision of her blazed, a symphony of power and grace her voice was.
“You will protect your pack,” she says, commanding yet not unkind. “But you must promise never to seek more than what you are given.”
Kael nods solemnly. “I swear it, Goddess.”
The scene shifts again. Kael is older now, with streaks of gray in his fur. His pack has grown, and so have his ambitions.
I watch in growing horror as he performs some sort of ritual, his voice rising and falling with words I don’t know. The air around him darkens, the earth shuddering beneath his feet.
“What are you doing, Kael?” thunders the voice of the Moon Goddess, wrath and sorrow mingled.
Kael says nothing, doesn’t gesture- and an eyebrow doesn’t rise… but in that same instant, his eyes are afire with interest.
The rite reaches its highest then it erupts; the trees flaming, bursting their glowing fruits as wolves fling themselves against each other snarling in their pain and ire.
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I gulp in the air and the vision crumbles.
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I stumble backward, my chest heaving. This grove is different now; its beauty is tainted by this knowledge.
“This place…” I stammer, shaking, “It’s not just a source of knowledge. It’s a prison. A monument to our sins.
Again, the pendant pulses and my gaze is drawn toward the center of the grove. I follow with stumbling steps as my head reels under the burden of what I have seen.
Further into the grove, there is one tree at the center of it all. Its softly glowing roots rhythmically pulse almost in time with a heartbeat; very unnatural.
And there was writing on its trunk, too, the letters made from some material that shines softly:
“To return what is lost, that which is dearest must be relinquished.”
I run my fingers over the words. Weighty meaning settles. heavily in my chest.
“What’s it say?” I whisper, shaking.
Before I am able to dwell on any suppositions, however, a presence begins to take form.
Between the roots, where tenebrosity and light dance together,
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ripples solidify into a vaguely humanoid outline; features indistinct, steeped in darkness.
Its eyes glowed with an impossible sheen of green.
“You shouldn’t be here, Luna,” it says in a low growling tone that seems to vibrate through the air.
I step backward, my heart pounding. “Who are you?”
The figure steps forward very slowly, acting as if every
movement is thought out. “A guardian. A remnant of what was lost.
This place was meant to be forgotten, buried beneath the weight. of time.”
“I came here to understand,” I say, from the little courage in my heart, my voice barely above a whisper. “To save my pack.”
Its eyes are narrow heavier with the weight of its presence. “You seek answers, but the truth will break you. Are you prepared to pay the price?”
I stare right into its eyes, and the fear churning inside of met hardens to determination. “If that’s what it takes to keep them safe, yes.”
He cocked his head to one side then and considered me with a look of such intensity that the shivers ran down my spine.
“Hmm, he said finally, his voice soft now. But remember, Luna…
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what is given cannot be undone.
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Suddenly then the shade moves out of the way to allow a narrow path… almost no path–curving more inward deeper within the heart of the grove; glowing roots pulse for light to lead Aurora. further.
It opens into a small clearing, the roots forming a natural circle around a pool of glowing liquid.
The light it gave off somehow, could make one fall asleep, changing between colors of silver and blue, its surface seeming to ripple as if alive.
“What is this?” I breathed, and could not pull my gaze from it.
“The Reflection Pool,” the figure said. “It shows you what you seek most… and what you fear most.”
I took another step, and the pull of the pool suddenly almost irresistible; the surface began to shimmer and an image started
to form.
I see myself standing with the pack, their faces upturned to mine, sure and in homage. The amulet upon my neck is whole; the glow upon it is bright, blazing like a star.
But then it falters, starts to dull, darkening further. Their faces turned, twisting to rage, to betrayal… it turned into their murmuring shouts. Turning on me.
I took one backward stumble and loosed my hold. “What is the
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meaning?
“That is for you to decide,” the figure replies.
“The grove does not give answers, only truths.”
