He doesn’t like elves.
“Oh, come now. We don’t bite,” and then she grins broadly. “Not you two, anyway.”
They certainly didn’t seem like a species that was instilled with a morality as black and white as the enduares. Their sense of right and wrong shifted like the wind through the trees.
The wooden face groans again, the mouth stretching wider, revealing a hollow interior bathed in a warm, golden glow. The scent of wildflowers drifts toward us as the opening solidifies into a tunnel.
Vann hesitates, just for a moment, before stepping forward. I follow closely, my heart pounding as we approach the massive, living entrance.
The door watches us. Its gaze lingers on me.
Inside, the space opens up into a vast chamber grown from living wood. It is lower than we were outside, but not so far down that we are underground.
Golden veins pulse along the walls, giving off a soft glow. Vines curl along the floor, shifting as we step forward, whispering against our boots. The scent of damp earth and fresh blossoms fills the air, mingling with something older, something untouched by time.
Bridges made from intertwined branches stretch above us, connecting to higher platforms where elven figures drift through the shadows. Their eyes shimmer in the dim light, flicking to us before they vanish deeper into the tree.
I spot a few dryads.Protectors of the forest,they’d been called inone of the history scrolls. They look like they are made entirely of wood.
Ahead, a grand spiral staircase winds upward, its steps formed directly from the tree’s heartwood. Glyni gestures for us to follow, her footsteps light and soundless.
“Not a single piece of cut wood,” Vann murmurs, almost impressed.
When I look back at the scenery, I realize he’s right.
As we start up the stairs, Vann moves warily. His shoulders are tense and his hand never far from his blade.
The higher we go up the tree, the more the air hums with magic. I can barely glimpse the sky beyond the canopy of leaves. The feeling presses against my skin, seeping into my bones, whispering secrets in a language I don’t understand. I turn back as the leaves flutter. My breath catches.
There is no wind in this place. Everything is alive, and it’s watching us.
Chapter 21
VANN
Glyni leads us deeper into the Sisterhood’s Enclave. As a young man, I’d visited the elven capital, Shvathemar. It was a gleaming, wooden city. But this… it is unlike other places I’ve seen carved from trees.
The Sisterhood’s Enclave is woven together by magic, not blade nor chisel. The branches arch overhead, forming walls and corridors that creak, their shapes shifting ever so slightly.
It’s warm, too. The pack is heavy on my back, and I pull on my shirt to cool myself down. I can even see a few stray strands of hair curling along Arlet’s neck.
Glyni leads us toward a structure that seems to have grown from the earth itself. The walls are woven from gnarled vines and sturdy branches. Flowers bloom in the eaves, glowing faintly, their petals sparkling as if they’d just been watered.
The elf presses her palm against the twisted frame of the entrance. The wood sighs, shifting under her fingers, and the doorway unfurls, revealing the space within. The air temperature is pleasant compared to the rest of the enclave.
“I have prepared two rooms for you,” Glyni says. A brief relief washes over me before she continues, “Ah, my common tongue is lacking. I suppose I should say, two spaces.”
I step inside first, immediately noting the organic curves of the room, its walls forming seamless shelves of roots and vines. The soft glow of bioluminescent leaves gives the space a gentle radiance, but it’s impossible to miss that there are only a few furnishings.
A lavatory is open in the back with what I can only assume is a door similar to the entrance, and there is a tub nestled next to a flowing fountain. A folding partition constructed by leaves covers part of the bathing area.
And then… in the middle of the room, there is a bed.One wide bedcovered in a blanket woven with shimmering threads.
“One bed?” I ask flatly, turning toward Glyni.
“Two spaces on either side.” She smiles, unbothered. “A generous arrangement, considering the Sisterhood does not often extend hospitality to outsiders. Even your king did not spend the night when he visited. You should be grateful.”
Arlet’s expression is unreadable as she moves past me, her fingers ghosting over the bed coverings. She doesn’t protest, nor does she look at me.