Silver and Gold

The grassland stretched before us, a sea of green swaying under a sky that darkened with every step. Clouds sleekly gathered, thick and ominous, swallowing the sun’s last light. I trailed the small figure, his brisk pace forcing me to quicken mine, the locket swinging against my chest. My mind raced—Nora’s death, the sinkhole, the black figures—all blurring into a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. Minutes passed, the silence broken only by the rustle of grass and my uneven breaths.

Ahead at the edge of our sight, a gate emerged, its iron frame looming at the forest’s edge, perhaps a few hundred meters off our path. The small figure slowed, muttering to himself, “Perchance we bide the night, the weather to observe ere we proceed.” His words sank into me, a cold knot forming. I realized that the dwarf and his comrades were camping here temporarily. I wasn’t ready to face new people—his master. How would I ask about this world without sounding like a lost child? The pace of it all—Elias’s reunion, Nora’s murder, this surreal descent—left me reeling. I steadied myself with a deep breath, whispering Gran’s mantra: Time will show the way. Yet, the fear of confronting that truth, of processing everything, lingered like a shadow at my spine.

As we neared, the gate’s details sharpened. Engravings adorned its surface—a figure clinging to a massive raven’s talons, facing a serpent-like creature with five snarling heads. The scene mirrored on both sides, its symmetry chilling. A shiver raced down my back, the locket’s weight intensifying as if warning me. The dark blue sky above deepened, casting the forest beyond into an abyss, a prelude to some unseen danger. My pulse quickened, every instinct telling me there is a important connection of the place beyond the gate to me. Confused and tired, I already had too many questions and not enough answers, and so I forced my nerves to sit.

The small figure spoke without looking, his voice steady. “Yon forest be the camping site where mine master, lord of the great Raegaur house, with his servants rests. Leave thou any evil intent behind, not for his sake—for no such malice against him ever prospers-but for disappointment, you'll face ” His words carried a quiet menace, and I swallowed hard, intimidated. The gate creaked open, a cold wind rushing out, sweeping my hair back. He murmured, “The earth of this place hath accepted our presence,” his tone reverent.

We stepped inside, the path narrowing under a canopy of crooked trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. The air grew thick, damp with decay, and as we ventured deeper, a sound emerged—girls’ voices, soft and mournful, weaving a song that melded with the wind. The melody was haunting, a lament that seemed to rise from the forest’s soul, each note heavy with sorrow. I felt a pang of unease, my steps faltering, but I held my tongue. The small figure walked silently, his head bowed as if honoring the voices. My heart ached for the forest—perhaps it bore scars like mine, hidden beneath its verdant mask.

The singing faded as we broke through the trees into an open area. A river glimmered ahead, its waters dark and swift, and at its far end, a campfire flickered, a beacon in the gloom. We approached, and my breath caught. Four towering men, each near ten feet, handled massive wood blocks with ease, their bodies overgrown with hair, linen clothes straining against their bulk. Nearer the fire, seven small figures like my guide packed items into boxes, their movements precise. At the campfire’s heart sat a figure: a boy with short silver hair, his golden-tinged eyes fixed on the flames, I was elated to see a human, finally some familiar being in this strange world. Beside him-stood, a seven-foot being with massive white wings folded at rest, his presence commanding, not so human.

The small figure turned, his magenta eyes locking with mine. “To the heart of the fire thou shouldst go,” he said. “Thine answers lie there.” Anxiety twisted my gut, but I nodded, weaving past the giants and small workers, avoiding their gazes. I reached the fire, standing opposite the boy on a weathered bench. He looked up, revealing a young face similar to mine and true golden eyes, sharp and assessing. “Sit,” he said, his voice elegant, cutting through the crackle of flames. Nervously, I obeyed, my hands clutching the locket.

He tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Would you like some roasted fish and water? Please do excuse me for my lack of providing lavisher meals but that's the best fate has for us today. ” I stuttered, “N-no, thank you,” my appetite drowned by a hunger for answers. As I opened my mouth to ask, he spoke first, his gaze unwavering. “Most answers which you seek, I hold. Some, I do not." I gulped in dry air.