Fairy tales for young and old ~ English version

The Smoldering Forest

(Storytober - Day 24 - Fire)

Long ago, there lay a forest that always burned, its trees eternally alight with a slow and ceaseless fire. The sky above it was forever cloaked in ash, and the ground, covered in cinders, glowed a deep ember-red. This was the Smoldering Forest, a place where no bird sang and no creature dared to tread, for the flames consumed all in their path. Yet, in a quiet village not far from the burning woods lived a young girl named Anette, whose touch could quench even the fiercest blaze.

Anette's gift had always set her apart. When she was only a babe, her cries put out the hearth fire, and as she grew, the villagers often sought her help to protect their thatched roofs from errant sparks. Her gift was seen as both a blessing and a curse, for it reminded them all of the forest's insatiable flames that loomed nearby. But to Anette, it was simply a part of who she was, just as her laughter and her love for her brother, Dariel, were.

One autumn evening, as the wind carried the scent of smoke and char, Dariel ventured too close to the edge of the Smoldering Forest and vanished. His absence was like a shadow that fell over the village, and grief tightened its grip on Anette's heart. While the others feared to speak of it, some whispered that the forest had claimed him, drawn him in like so many before.

Anette would not accept this. She gathered what little she had – a water skin, a damp cloth, and a shawl – and set out towards the fiery border. The elders warned her against it, but Anette's resolve burned as brightly as the flames ahead. "I will find him," she declared, "and bring him home."

The forest welcomed her with searing heat and crackling timber. She stepped cautiously, each footfall releasing a puff of ash. Her gift allowed her to move unharmed; as she walked, the flames parted and dimmed, leaving a narrow path of cool earth in her wake. Yet, the deeper she went, the fiercer the fire seemed, and the trees that lined the path looked like blackened skeletons, their branches reaching out like hands ready to seize.

In time, she came upon a clearing where the flames burned the brightest. There stood a great oak, its bark aglow with a golden light. Beneath it, a figure knelt, his back turned to her. Anette's heart leapt. "Dariel!" she cried, rushing forward. But as the figure rose and turned, she saw that it was not her brother at all, but an old woman, her hair the color of smoke and her eyes like burning coals.

"Who are you, child, that dares to tread where even fire fears to spread?" asked the old woman, her voice crackling like dry leaves.

"I am Anette, and I seek my brother, Dariel," she replied. "Have you seen him?"

The old woman's gaze flickered with an unsettling light. "A boy did pass through here, yes, though his steps were not his own. The forest has a hunger, and it takes what it will. If you wish to find him, you must walk to the heart of the fire, where the Smoldering Tree grows."

"And where will I find this Smoldering Tree?" Anette asked, though a shiver crept through her despite the heat.

"Follow the trail of ash and smoke," the old woman murmured, and with a sweep of her hand, she vanished into the embers, leaving Anette alone once more.

Anette pressed on, the path winding like a serpent through the forest's glowing depths. The air grew thicker, and the fire wilder, but she continued to quench each flame before her. At last, she reached a grove where a single tree stood, towering above all others. Its trunk was of charred black, and its branches bore flames instead of leaves. This was the Smoldering Tree, and at its base lay her brother, his eyes closed, his face pale.

She ran to him, kneeling by his side. "Dariel, wake up!" she pleaded, shaking his shoulders. But he did not stir, and the fire around the tree began to grow hotter and more fierce, as if angered by her presence.

In desperation, Anette reached out, and with both hands, she touched the trunk of the tree. She poured all her power into it, quenching the fire that fed its ancient bark. The flames hissed and shrank, retreating from her touch, but the effort drained her strength. As the last of the fire faded from the Smoldering Tree, she collapsed beside her brother, her breath faint.

But as the grove fell silent, Dariel's eyes fluttered open. He looked around, dazed, and saw Anette lying there. "Anette," he whispered, shaking her gently. "Wake up, please."

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she smiled weakly at him. "We must go home," she said, and with his help, they rose to their feet.

As they made their way back, the path behind them cooled, and the flames that had once ravaged the forest dimmed to mere embers. The Smoldering Forest was no longer alight with its terrible hunger. The trees still stood, charred and black, but new life would find its way through the ashes in time, as it always did.

And so, Anette and Dariel returned to their village, where the people spoke of the girl who had tamed the fire. Though the Smoldering Forest remained, its blaze had lost its fury, and whenever a flame flickered too near the village, it was said to retreat at the whisper of Anette's name.