A Heart Tested

Liora’s pulse raced, her breath trembling in her throat. For a moment, she only stared — at his eyes, at the way he stood so still, as though afraid even to breathe. Then, finally, her voice broke the silence, soft but edged with unease.

“What did you want with the unicorn?” she asked, her tone careful, guarded.

Arlen blinked, taken aback by the question — and by the sound of her voice, gentle and melodic even in its fear. He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. I didn’t mean to call it. I was just… singing. And it came. Just like you did.”

Liora’s brow furrowed slightly, her wings twitching. “You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, though something in it wavered — not anger, but worry. “The forest isn’t kind to those who wander twice. Why do you keep returning?”

Arlen hesitated, his hand brushing the bark of a nearby tree, grounding himself. “Because I’m looking for something,” he said softly. “A herb — for my sister. She’s ill.” He paused, his gaze steady but uncertain. “And because of your song. It… draws me here. I don’t know why.”

Liora’s cheeks warmed, the faintest blush coloring her face. Her eyes widened just slightly, as if she hadn’t expected such honesty. “My… my song?” she repeated, almost whispering, glancing aside as though the trees might hide her embarrassment.

Arlen smiled faintly, a gentle, uncertain curve of his lips. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Liora’s wings fluttered once, betraying her flustered heartbeat. The forest shimmered faintly around them, as though sharing her confusion — or her quiet, secret delight.

She looked at him again, eyes softening despite herself. “Humans are strange,” she muttered under her breath. “Always walking into danger because of things they don’t understand.”

Arlen chuckled quietly, taking a careful step closer, though still leaving respectful space between them. “Maybe,” he said. “But sometimes… you follow what feels right, even when you don’t understand it.”

For a heartbeat, Liora said nothing — and then, softly, almost against her own will, she smiled.

Liora’s expression softened just slightly, though her wings still trembled with tension. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the rustle of leaves and the faint shimmer of light filtering through the trees.

Finally, she spoke — her tone calm, but carrying quiet strength.

“I know where the herb you seek grows,” she said slowly. “It’s deep within the heart of the forest, where sunlight rarely reaches.”

Arlen’s eyes lit up, hope flickering across his face. “You do? Then—”

“But,” she interrupted gently, raising a hand. “You cannot simply take from this forest. It gives only to those it deems worthy.” Her gaze searched his, unflinching. “If you truly wish to find it, you must first pass a trial.”

“A trial?” Arlen repeated, brows lifting. “What kind of trial?”

Liora tilted her head, her voice lowering to something almost secretive. “Not one of strength or skill,” she said. “The forest cares little for those things. It will test your heart. Your intent.”

He hesitated, feeling the weight of her words. “And if I fail?”

“The forest will know,” she replied softly. “And it will close its paths to you — forever.”

Arlen swallowed, glancing toward the deeper woods, where the shadows seemed to breathe. Then he looked back at her. “Then I’ll take the trial,” he said quietly, resolve steady in his tone. “For my sister… and because I think I was meant to find this place.”

Liora’s wings flickered faintly, a spark of something unreadable passing through her eyes — surprise, perhaps… or the faintest trace of admiration.

“Very well,” she said at last, stepping closer until the air between them shimmered faintly with her presence. “Then listen carefully, human. The forest will ask you for truth — not with words, but with what you hold inside.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as if to read the shape of his heart.

“Follow me,” she whispered. “And do not let fear answer in your place.”

But then a sudden clatter broke the quiet of the forest. Arlen froze, heart leaping — the sound came from his horse.

He moved closer and saw it: its hoof was caught between two stones, panic rippling through its muscles as it struggled and stamped, eyes wide with fright. Arlen knelt beside the trapped animal, unsure how to help. His hands hovered, but every attempt to move the stones seemed only to worsen the horse’s panic.

“Wait… stay calm,” he whispered, but his voice did little against the horse’s fear.

From the shadows, Liora stepped forward, her green wings quivering. She began to sing softly, her voice weaving through the trees like a gentle current:

“Breathe, little one, the forest sees,

Let go your fear, move with ease.

The stones may trap, but hearts can free,

Let courage flow, come safely to me.”

The horse’s frantic movements slowed, its ears flicking toward the soothing melody. Arlen watched, astonished, as the panic in its eyes softened, muscles relaxing under the power of her song.

But horses panic started rising again with each failed attempt to free its trapped hoof. Arlen’s hands hovered over the stones, but he couldn’t budge them. The horse’s panic surged, pressing against him, and he felt the helplessness tighten in his chest.

Liora stepped closer, her green wings fluttering nervously. “Let me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and resolve. She moved carefully, eyes scanning the surroundings for any threat, but her focus stayed on the trapped animal.

Arlen hesitated. “It’s dangerous… you could get hurt!”

“I have to try,” she said firmly. “Trust me.”

She placed her hands over the stone, when their hands touched. Arlen’s breath caught. Liora’s cheeks flustered. Together, they lifted the stone just enough. The horse shivered and stamped, then slowly withdrew its hoof, free at last.

In that fleeting moment, Liora’s eyes darting away to hide the sudden rush of emotion. Arlen’s eyes didn’t left her. He felt he warmth, the pulse of life in her touch—it was electrifying, grounding, and terrifying all at once.

The horse snorted, finally calm, and nuzzled at Arlen’s shoulder. Arlen glanced at Liora, still standing just a few paces away, her green wings folding tightly against her back, she turned, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Arlen’s heart thumped as he whispered, almost to himself, “Thank you… for everything.”

Liora’s eyes met his for a heartbeat, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Then, with a soft sigh, she said, “Now… follow me. But be careful. The forest is watching.”

Liora stepped lightly ahead, her movements almost gliding over the moss-covered ground. Arlen followed, careful not to break the fragile silence of the forest, still feeling the warmth of her hand where their fingers had brushed. Each step seemed to echo with a subtle pulse—something alive in the trees, something that had responded to their touch and the horse’s rescue.

“You must listen,” Liora said softly, glancing back at him. “The forest speaks. It tests those who enter. If you are careless… it will notice.”

Arlen nodded, swallowing his nervousness. “I… I’ll be careful. I want to help my sister. And I… I want to understand.”

The stream came into view, sunlight catching the water as it danced over smooth stones. Liora paused on the bank, green wings flicking with tension. “This is where the herb grows. But first… you must prove yourself. A test of heart, of patience, of awareness.”

Arlen’s gaze followed her, awed by how small and fragile she seemed and yet how commanding her presence was. “A test?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said, eyes meeting his. “I will show you where it grows, but only if you succeed. The forest will not allow me to guide someone who is unready. Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath, gripping the reins of his horse loosely at his side. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes. For Elara… and… for you,” he added softly, unsure why the words slipped out, but they felt true.

Liora’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Then follow closely. Watch. Listen. And do not act recklessly. The forest is alive, and it notices everything—even your intentions.”

Together, they moved along the stream, the water whispering past their feet. Arlen’s heart thrummed with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and the lingering memory of their first touch. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet melody—the echo of her song—seemed to guide him forward, threading through the soft rustle of leaves and the glimmering light of the forest.

As they neared the spot where the rare herb might grow, Liora stopped again, turning to face him. “Here,” she said, voice low. “You must find it without my hands. Only by sensing the life around you. The forest will reveal it if your heart is true. If you fail… you’ll learn, but the herb will remain hidden.”

Arlen nodded, determination steeling his limbs. He looked around, sensing the subtle shifts in the forest—the tiny rustle of leaves, the faint hum of life—and felt the same pull that had drawn him to her before. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening. Waiting. Feeling.

Somewhere upstream, the forest seemed to hold its breath. And somewhere, he knew, Liora watched him—quiet, vigilant, her green wings flicking like whispers of wind, as if even she felt the pulse of what was to come.

Arlen knelt low, eyes scanning the mossy bank, listening intently to the quiet murmur of the forest. Every sound—the rustle of leaves, the gentle trickle of the stream, the distant cry of a bird—seemed to whisper, guiding him, testing him.

Liora hovered a few steps ahead, her wings flicking softly. Her voice floated on the breeze, a gentle melody that wrapped around him, urging him to trust his instincts.

Arlen’s hands brushed aside fallen twigs and damp moss. His fingers trembled as he reached for a small cluster of green, serrated leaves with faint silver flecks— the herb Saira had described. Relief flooded through him, tempered by awe; he had never found anything so elusive, so alive.

He looked up at Liora, and for the briefest instant, their eyes met. Her gaze was still cautious, yet something softer lingered there—trust, acknowledgment, a quiet bond forming in the shared triumph.

“Here it is,” Arlen murmured, lifting the herb gently. “I… I found it.”

Liora let out a soft breath, wings settling slightly. “You have… done well. The forest accepted your heart, even when it was tested. Remember this moment—it is not just skill, but intention that matters.”

Arlen smiled, a mix of relief and wonder. “Thank you… for guiding me.”

She tilted her head, cheeks flushed faintly.

The forest seemed to breathe around them, leaves rustling as if celebrating their small victory. Arlen’s heart beat fast, not just for the herb he had found for Elara, but for the fragile connection he now sensed with the mysterious, cautious being before him.

Liora stepped back, her wings folding gently behind her. She watched Arlen gather the herb, the subtle tremor of determination in his hands and the steady rhythm of his heart guiding him true.

For the first time a flicker of relief passed through her. The forest has judged him… and he is true. His heart is honest. There is no need for fear—neither for her nor for what may come.

She let out a soft breath, a smile brushing her lips, and allowed herself to hope quietly, just for a moment, that perhaps not all humans were so easily lost to the shadows of the world.