Penthos: The Guardian Sea

Chapter Thirty: A Crow, a Dove, and a Destiny

“I don’t like this place, Ari,” Jarissein said, a cold shiver running down the length of his spine, all the way to his white tail tip. “It’s like something straight out of a nightmare.”

     “It’s the Ghost Wood. The trees are supposedly enchanted to make you see dead loved ones, or dreams, sometimes. Something about the mist and the shadows.” She strode forward with confidence, wading through the tall grey grasses that were so out of place amid a forest of the thickest birch trees Jarissein had ever seen. The whole place was seemingly taken and shaped from the grey mist around them. The birches were grey, the grass was grey, the air was swirling with grey. Grey, grey, and more grey. Jarissein itched for sunlight and color. Not this dull, ominous twilight.

     “I’ve about had it with dreams,” he said to himself quietly, half a step behind her.

     He heard her chuckle as she led him to a small clearing in the wood. Within a matter of minutes, they had set up a small camp, and were sitting next to the guttering fire, staring around them into the mist.

     Shapes danced in the mist around them, just far enough outside the firelight to be nothing but moving shadows, but still visible. A cold feeling settled in the pit of Jarissein’s stomach. “When’re we leaving this Realm again?” he asked.

     “Tomorrow.”

     He pulled his cloak around him; the fire did nothing to keep him warm. The dread kept the heat from softening his taut muscles. “Shall we rest then?”

     She nodded, and without another word they extinguished the fire and retired to their tent.

Arielle woke to a cold mat next to her. Jarissein was gone that she could see and smell. The blanket was flat and made, as though he had never even been there.

     She rose, covering herself with a silken robe that brushed the ground. The deep pinks and blacks and whites depicting cranes in a sunset lake (a gift from a king in the Realm of Sunsets) seemed so out of place among the solid, unwavering grey of the Realm.

     She exited the tent and began walking. She had no notion of where she was going; only that something was invisibly pulling her in that direction. Her feet padded quietly among the grasses. Not a creature could be sensed, heard, or smelled. This caused concern. But, then again, they didn’t call it the Ghost Wood for nothing.

     Something moved off to her left and above. Arielle whipped around to face it, but the small shadow she had seen was now gone. She slowed her pace, staring at the place the shadow had been. What she losing her mind? Or succumbing to the strangeness of the Realm?

     She moved on, following the strange pull at her gut that tugged her through the Realm. The chill of the Realm was settling in her bones, and each step was a challenge, her feet feeling more leaden than the stride before. But finally, after what seemed like hours, she pushed through the grey trees and into a large grey field. The field was circular, a couple hundred yards in diameter. Trees lined its perimeter, like vast grey sentinels. The sun, which had not shown itself until now, looked hazy through the grey mist all around. It cast an eerie light on the field.

     A small shape darted overhead, nearly scraping the top of Arielle’s head. It landed on the other side of the field. With determination, Arielle followed it.

     The grasses and plants of the field were dry. They pricked her bare feet, snagging her robe and scratching her legs. She trudged on in spite of this. As she reached the other side of the field, she noticed that the small shape was waiting for her in the shade of the trees. It was a crow, staring at her with beady black eyes. It was no messenger raven with a letter from her family. She wondered why it was putting itself in the way of harm in the dreaded Realm of the Ghost Wood.