Chapter 39
Written by Bayzo Albion
I hadn't even savored the full rush of triumph over the tree-monster—its splintered remains still settling into the underbrush with faint, defeated creaks—when a familiar voice dripped into the air behind me, smooth and honeyed, like sunlight filtering through amber.
"May I join the festivities?"
I startled, a jolt racing through me as warm fingers grazed my shoulders, light yet insistent, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. The Forest Queen stood mere inches away, her lips curved in that enigmatic smile that could charm or condemn with equal ease.
"Impressive luck you've got there," she murmured, her eyes flicking to my wooden magical sword, which hummed faintly in my grip like a living thing awakening.
"Of course, milady," I replied with a bow, masking the unease coiling in my gut. "In my world, no door stays locked for you."
She circled me slowly, her movements fluid and predatory, like a panther appraising its quarry—every scar on my skin, every twitch of muscle under her scrutiny.
"Gendalf of Rivia..." she said, a hint of amusement curling her lips, as if tasting the name on her tongue. "I've heard tales about you. They say you hail from a distant land, one shrouded in mystery—no one knows a thing about it."
She halted directly in front of me, her stare locking onto mine with unyielding intensity, emerald depths pulling me in like a whirlpool.
"So why the deception?" she pressed, as if she already held every card in my deck.
I paused, feeling the sword pulse in my hand—a rhythmic throb, like a heartbeat echoing through my fingers, warm and insistent.
"If I told the truth," I said slowly, my gaze drifting over her shoulder to the distant treeline, where mist clung to the branches like forgotten dreams, "they'd never believe me. They'd label me mad... or a fraud peddling illusions."
Curiosity flickered in her vibrant eyes, a spark amid the cool detachment.
"Really now..." she drawled, twirling a strand of her snow-white hair around a slender finger, the motion lazy yet deliberate. "Lying to avoid the madman's mantle... how dramatic. I almost pity you." Her tone dripped condescension, like a parent humoring a child's fanciful tale, laced with a subtle edge that made my skin prickle.
*Irony bites hard,* I thought coldly. *I'm spinning webs of lies to you right this second.*
"In truth," I confessed aloud, forcing a casual shrug, "I've never had such noble reasons. I lie because it's easy. Because the truth is dull as dishwater. But lies... they birth entire universes, ripe with possibility."
A heavy silence descended, thick and palpable, wrapping around us like fog rolling in from the woods—broken only by the distant rustle of leaves stirring in a phantom breeze.
"Where to next?" she asked at last, her voice stripped of any lingering warmth, flat as polished stone.
"How about a romantic rendezvous?" my double chimed in, unable to resist, winking with exaggerated flair that bordered on absurdity.
The Forest Queen threw her head back and laughed—a crystalline cascade, like a spring brook tumbling over pebbles, though threaded with mocking undertones that echoed faintly in the canopy.
"Men hold no appeal for me. None at all."
"So, beyond your precious woods, nothing stirs your soul?" my double persisted, undeterred. "What about... forest kings?"
She froze for a heartbeat, a subtle shadow crossing her usually sardonic features, like a cloud skimming the sun—pensive, almost vulnerable.
"What nonsense," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "A man could never mother nature itself."
Her gaze sharpened abruptly, a blade unsheathed.
"You truly know so little... Are you really from another world?"
I met her stare head-on, though a chill seeped into my core, as if the forest itself had hushed, shadows pooling denser beneath the trees, watching, waiting.
"Perhaps," I replied evenly, steadying my breath against the growing unease. "But why does it intrigue you so?"
"Because your scent..." She inhaled delicately, savoring it like a sommelier with a rare vintage, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. "It's foreign. No one here carries that aroma. Even your fear tastes... different."
My double stifled a snort, but her eyes snapped to him—and the sound died in his throat, strangled.
"I prefer to know exactly who I'm dealing with," she added, her tone brooking no argument.
I drew a deep breath, the crisp forest air blending with her elusive sweetness—a intoxicating mix that made my head swim faintly.
"Yes," I admitted at last. "You could say I'm... an outsider here."
"And do you yearn to return? To that place you fled?" For the first time, genuine curiosity colored her words, as if the question touched something personal, hidden beneath her regal facade.
"Not for all the realms in existence!" The response burst from me sharper than intended, laced with a raw edge that surprised even myself—panic flickering at the edges of my mind like shadows from a dying fire. "The mere thought terrifies me."
"What a shame," she sighed, her lips twisting into a theatrical pout, though her eyes remained vigilant, calculating. She was a master performer, every gesture rehearsed to perfection—and she reveled in it. "I'd give much to glimpse that unknown world, even just a peek..." Her voice shifted seamlessly to breezy nonchalance. "Come, let's retreat to my abode. We'll sip herbal tea, chat idly. My home boasts crystalline windows—views of the entire forest from every angle."
With a snap of her fingers, a circular portal shimmered into existence, its surface rippling like liquid silver, catching stray sunbeams in hypnotic swirls. But beyond that alluring facade lurked an inky void, exhaling a predatory chill that raised gooseflesh on my arms.
"Do you truly have a choice?" she inquired, the corners of her mouth quirking upward in faint amusement.
"No," we chorused, though my double's fingers drummed nervously on his axe's haft, betraying his bravado.
"After you," she gestured elegantly, as if ushering us into a grand ballroom rather than an abyss that could crush us without remorse.
"It's rough when power's not on your side," my double muttered under his breath as we approached. "Especially when we've got it in spades... yet we're still the underdogs."
"Strength without wisdom devours itself," I quoted, channeling Horace's ancient wisdom, the words a thin shield against the uncertainty gnawing at me.
"Oh, sure, spout your proverbs," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Next you'll lecture on ethics and trigger a full-blown existential meltdown."
"I don't recall my inner demon being quite so... pathetic."
"Ouch," he huffed. "What, expecting grand villainy? Brooding soliloquies? Or perhaps a dash of philosophical enlightenment to spice up the crisis?"
I smirked crookedly but held my tongue. Instead, we stepped through. The silvery membrane quivered, sealing shut behind us with a soft, final *whoosh*. Reality warped—compressed, stretched, vanished—and in a blink, we stood on a desolate stone plateau. No grass, no foliage; just endless gray boulders stretching to a barren horizon, like the scorched hide of a forsaken world. The air hung dry and oppressive, silence so absolute it pressed against the eardrums, demanding reverence—or submission.
And at the heart of this wasteland loomed a solitary tree. Colossal. Primordial. Its trunk rivaled a fortress tower in girth, bark etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly, veins of ancient magic still coursing through. Branches soared skyward, vanishing into a haze of clouds, defiant against the desolation.
"Welcome to my domain," the Forest Queen announced, her voice swelling with pride, though undercut by a peculiar note—defiance, perhaps, or the weary echo of isolation.
"More like our *future* domain," my double whispered, barely audible, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and greed.
"You dwell alone... in this immense tree?" I couldn't help asking, my voice echoing faintly across the rocks. "Doesn't the solitude weigh on you?"
She paused, her hand trailing along the rough, warm bark, fingers lingering as if drawing comfort from its texture. For a split second, her gaze darkened, delving into private memories veiled from prying eyes.
"Boredom, more than loneliness," she replied at length, her tone measured. "No one here can surprise me anymore."
With a gentle push, she opened a concealed door in the trunk's base—seamless camouflage giving way to reveal an entrance—and beckoned us inside.
From without, it was merely a tree. But within...
A palace unfolded. Vaulted ceilings arched high, woven from living branches that intertwined in elaborate patterns, forming an eternal dome alive with subtle shifts. Walls gleamed with intricate carvings—ethereal forest spirits dancing amid mythical beasts from forgotten lore, their forms seeming to breathe in the soft light. Underfoot, carpets of spider-silk and woven leaves cushioned each step, shimmering in verdant and auric hues beneath chandeliers of suspended crystal droplets, refracting rainbows across the space. Every inch pulsed with opulent magic, a splendor that would make the greediest monarchs weep with envy.
"Well?" She turned, a spark of daring mischief igniting in her eyes. "Ready to weave yourself into this tapestry?"
"It's so breathtaking, I forget to breathe," my double whispered, transfixed by the fantastical arches, his usual sarcasm softened by wonder.
I crossed my arms, eyeing her steadily. "And what's the price tag on all this grandeur?"
Her smile sharpened, lips curving like a dagger's edge—dangerous, alluring.
"The mighty don't pay. They receive tributes."
"Then why drag me here?" I arched a brow, skepticism threading my words. "Are we just sipping tea and admiring your treasures?"
"Such a perceptive boy," she cooed, reaching out to thread her fingers through my hair—a caress both tender and possessive, testing if I'd yield like a tamed beast. "Follow me... the real purpose awaits."