Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
“This place,” I whisper in awe. “It’s…alive.”
Stryx smiles, her eyes catching the blue light like crystals. “Everything here is,” she says softly. “Every leaf, every drop of water, every heartbeat. The forest remembers its makers, and it recognises you. We are all connected here.”
I freeze, my gaze flicking up to the towering trees once more.
The veins of blue light seem to pulse in time with my racing heart, like the forest is answering my presence, greeting me.
Stryx guides me forward through the trees, the silence starting to press on me.
Even my Shadow remains suspiciously absent.
“Where is everyone?” I whisper, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to keep my voice down.
“I’ll show you,” she smiles, her pace increasing, and it occurs to me then how desperate she must be to get back to her family after being gone for so long.
For her sake, I quicken my pace, following her along a heavily trodden path through the moss and bracken.
As we walk, bioluminescent light pulses through the vines above and the fungi at our feet, acknowledging our presence, encouraging us forward.
The trees start to thin out and structures start to appear after a while; small dwellings scattered about through the forest, their number increasing the closer we get to the centre.
Eventually we reach a huge clearing, surrounded by a roiling river, and the sight ahead makes me stop dead in my tracks.
The heart of Lunoreth steals the breath straight from my chest.
I imagined many things on the journey here—ruins swallowed by moss, perhaps, or a glittering palace of the Echofae carved from light and glass—but nothing could have prepared me for this.
Before us stretches a plain bathed in silver light, motes of gold glittering overhead like shards of glass caught in water.
The river winds round the edge of the clearing, a wooden bridge carved over it leading to the most awe-inspiring structure.
In the middle of the vast clearing, the biggest trees I’ve ever seen rise up like the bones of the world itself, their colossal trunks hollowed and merging together into a spiralling cathedral of living wood, stretching as far as I can see.
A flash of white snaps my attention back to the ground, and from between the pale, whispering trees, a creature emerges, graceful and otherworldly, its movements as fluid as water.
I’ve only ever seen drawings of an Orrathyn Wolf before, but none compare to the beauty of it in real life.
It stands taller than a horse, its body sleek and luminous, its hide rippling with shades of moonlight and deep blue, as though constellations have been woven into its skin.
Elegant horns curl from its head and faint shimmers of gold glowing beneath the surface of its fur.
My breath catches as it pads towards us, silent despite its vast size, its gaze intense and unwavering. Its eyes meet mine, and my heart stutters, my instincts screaming at me to back away from this unknown entity. The Orrathyn tilts its head slightly, its gaze calm, but impossibly ancient.
From behind it, a smaller one—perhaps its offspring—creeps forward, its steps soundless on the soft earth. Stryx bows her head slightly, an almost reverent gesture that makes my skin prickle.
I try to speak, but find my voice caught in my throat.
Then, like Stryx in her Irithys form, the creature speaks without moving its mouth, its voice curling round my mind with a soft, but mighty reverberation.
“Do not be afraid, child of two worlds.”
The voice feels like it’s coming from everywhere at once, resonating in my mind, my bones, the quiet rhythm of my pulse. My fear wavers, replaced by a strange calm that washes through me like warmth from a fire.
“We have been expecting you for a very long time.”
I blink, my hands trembling at my sides. “You…you’ve been expecting me?” I whisper aloud, my voice small.
The Orrathyn steps closer, lowering its head until its golden eyes are level with mine. “The forest remembers its own,” it murmurs into my mind. “You have come home to us at last.”
I gape, speechless. Until now, there was still a stubborn part of me stamping its foot, refusing to believe the madness of all that Stryx confessed to me, but with the Orrathyn now confirming it, the reality of my situation starts to dawn on me fully, and it’s a terrifying prospect.
But before I can say any words to that effect, the creature turns from us and heads towards the huge interwoven trees, clearly intending for us to follow.
Stryx gives me an encouraging nod and I force my feet to move, shock settling deep into my bones.
I crane my neck as we approach the entrance into the first tree, its canopy easily over a hundred feet high, its branches curving up into the mists of the Veil above.
The huge roots part down the middle, creating a frame around the hollowed out entrance into the trunk.
I brush my fingers gently along the nearest root, so enormous its diameter must be many meters wide.
As we cross the threshold, the air shimmers inside with a soft, golden luminescence, like a thousand captured stars are tangled in the branches above our heads, each step I take glowing faintly under my boots.
The interior is vast, cavernous. A staircase ahead winds upward through the heartwood, carved directly into one of the trunks.
Shelves line the inner walls, endless rows of books and scrolls slotted into the bark, their spines gleaming amber in the gentle light of hanging lanterns.
The branches lace together in intricate weaves that form bridges, walkways, and homes suspended in the light.
Echofae in various creature and humanoid forms prowl the space, surrounding us in a cacophony of sound, the trilling of bird shifters filling the air, the growls of the Kaelvara Lion shifters rumbling through the crowds.
The amount of Echofae in here is truly staggering.
I’ve become acquainted with several species through drawings in books or interacting with slaves in the central quarter, but I never realised quite how many there were.
The most stunning creatures I’ve ever seen, defying all imagination, go about their business around us—small black cats, their fur interwoven with blue, luminescent strands, and larger cats that look more like panthers prowl, also sharing the unique blue light throughout their thick coats.
Slender Echofae with silvered skin and eyes like molten gold peer curiously from behind vines and platforms. A flying shifter, resembling a half-bird, half-lizard with feathered wings so pearlescent they seem to glow of their own accord, soars past us, the breeze made by its wings catching my hair from inside my hood.
All around us, beings of every imaginable kind pause in their tasks to stare at me.
It’s only then that I realise…I don’t need to hide my hair.
Not here.
I tentatively remove my hood and tilt my head back, dizzy from the sheer scale of it all.
The canopy arches so far overhead it feels like standing beneath a living sky, a twilight world of whispering leaves and memory.
At the top of the staircases wind hundreds of holes in the trunks, doors intricately carved into the wood, leading to what I assume are the homes of the Echofae.
“This…” I breathe, barely able to find my voice. “This is impossible. I truly came from here? Why don’t I remember any of it?”
Beside me, Stryx gives me a sad smile. “I don’t know. But hopefully we will soon find out.”
I press a hand to another root as we pass, the bark smooth and warm beneath my touch, thrumming faintly with old magic.
I think I finally understand what Stryx meant when she said everything here is connected.
Like the pull I feel to Riven, touching the tree tugs at something deep in my chest, something begging to be set free.
I feel it stir inside me, a pull in my blood that responds to the deep hum beneath my palm.
I try to accept that Stryx was right about me after all, but still something primal in me protests, making me wonder if I truly do belong here or not. I guess I’ve spent so long fighting for acceptance amongst the mortals, I can’t allow myself to hope I can achieve it here just yet.
The air starts to fill with soft, lilting whispers.
“The One? She’s here?”
“It can’t be…”
“The lost one returns…”
I feel the weight of their attention pressing against my chest, my heart hammering loud enough that I grow paranoid they can all hear it. I instinctively reach for Stryx, her presence steadying me, though even in her home, Stryx looks uneasy beneath so many watchful eyes.
Then, the crowd parts.
The Echofae that surround us dip their heads in respect as a woman steps through them—tall, radiant, her hair a cascade of liquid silver that seems to shimmer with its own inner light.
Her skin bears the faint glow of starlight, her features eerily similar to Stryx’s, but softer, wiser, as though she’s seen centuries unfold.
The forest quiets as she approaches, her movements graceful and deliberate.
“Welcome home,” she says, her voice carrying through the air like music, yet with an undercurrent of power that makes the leaves tremble. Her gaze lingers on me, warm yet unreadable. “We have awaited this day for longer than you can imagine.”
I open my mouth, but once again no sound comes. The woman merely smiles at my graceless gawping, extending a hand toward the glowing pathways that spiral deeper into the living city, gesturing for us to walk beside her.
Stryx steps forward and takes the woman’s hand with a warm smile, reaching back her other hand to take mine. “Octavia, this is Esmarie, High Shaman of Lunoreth, and my Mother.”