Through the Fairy Ring

Chapter X.

Grace followed closely behind Milya, her eyes fixed on the faint glow of the fairy's wings and skin. The deeper they went into the heart of the tree, the darker it became, the towering walls of bark closing in around them like the ribs of some ancient creature. The only sound was the soft padding of their footsteps on the earthy floor. The silence was suffocating, heavy with the weight of expectation.

Grace cleared her throat, the noise awkward and jarring in the stillness. "Are these... tests of illusions," she asked hesitantly, her voice bouncing off the bark in uneven echoes, "... common for those who seek the elder?"

Milya said nothing, only shook her head. Her silvery tresses shimmered faintly, catching what little light remained in the space. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it spoke volumes. No, she seemed to say. Grace felt a chill run down her spine. Whatever she had just endured was not meant for everyone — only for her. She wondered what might have happened instead if she had given in. Given up. She shook off the shudder that sent her skin prickling with unease.

They pressed on, the air growing cooler and more dense with each step. Grace's heart pounded in her chest, her mind still reeling from the voices, the faces, the memories that had tried to pull her down. She tried to focus on Milya's glowing form ahead, a beacon in the suffocating darkness, but the memories still tugged at her, whispering at the edges of her mind.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached another curtain of spiderwebs, this one glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. Milya stepped to the side, her wings brushing against the bark as she motioned for Grace to go ahead.

Grace hesitated. Something about the glowing webs filled her with dread, a gut feeling that warned her to be cautious. She took a slow step forward and gingerly poked her head through the webs. She gasped, instantly grateful she hadn't rushed in blindly.

Just a few paces beyond the webs, the ground abruptly disappeared, plunging into a vast hollow. The center of the tree had been carved away, leaving a gaping chasm that stretched downwards for what seemed like an eternity. The faint lights from the fairy homes carved into the bark flickered far below, dotting the inner walls of the hollow like stars in a distant night sky. But the glow that had poked through the spider silk hadn't come from the fairies' homes.

Before her, taking up nearly the entire opposite wall of the hollow, was a colossal face, carved into the living bark of the tree. Grace's breath caught in her throat. The face was ancient, its features worn and weathered. It was held up by twisting vines and gnarled branches that spiraled around it like living roots, rendering it unreachable without flying towards it. Glowing flowers, their petals soft and radiant, were scattered across its surface, weaving in and out of the cracks in the bark.

Its eyes were closed, the face solemn, almost reverent, as if in deep, fervent prayer. Grace's chest tightened with awe and fear. This was the elder. It had to be.

She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she called out, "Elder Klee?"

The sound of her voice echoed down the hollow, carrying her uncertainty with it. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a slow, deliberate creak, the eyes of the face opened. They were impossibly large, glowing with the same ethereal light as the flowers that adorned it, and they gazed down at her with an intensity that made Grace feel small; insignificant.

A large branch extended from beneath the elder's chin, weaving through the hollow until it stopped just before her. It beckoned her forward, its surface rough but steady.

Grace's heart raced. She looked down at the drop below and then back at the elder's face, the ancient eyes waiting, watching. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the branch, her legs trembling as it lifted her off the ground. The branch moved slowly, carefully, carrying her closer to the elder's face.

The deeper they went into the hollow, the more she felt the weight of the elder's presence pressing against her. Finally, the branch came to a steady stop before the elder, close enough that Grace could see the delicate lines and creases in the bark that made up its expression. The glowing flowers swayed gently in a breeze she could not feel.

The elder's voice, when it came, was deep and thunderous, rumbling through the hollowed-out trunk like an earthquake. It was not a voice of a single being, but a chorus of voices woven together, ancient and full of power.

"I've been expecting you, child."