Court Of Tethers and Ruin *A dark fae fantasy- romance*

Chapter 8: The Witch

Ayla stood at the edge of the woods, her boots sinking slightly into the thick layer of snow that covered the ground. The trees stretched upward, their dark branches heavy with a blanket of fresh snow that clung to them as if to shield them from the world. The trunks of the trees were impossibly thick, and Ayla's head barely reached the lowest branches. The air was cold, but not nearly as cold as the chill that wrapped around her heart, a sense of foreboding creeping up her spine. She had always been uneasy in these woods, and for good reason. Her mother had warned them countless times: the woods were forbidden. There were things within them that no one should ever see or touch. Yet here they were, standing on the threshold of something they shouldn't even be thinking about.

Beside her, Amara tugged on her hand, urging her to follow. Amara's eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement Ayla rarely saw in herself. Amara was always the bold one, the brave one, the one who pushed the boundaries of their world. Ayla, on the other hand, felt safer when she followed the rules, when she stayed within the lines that had been set for her. But it was Amara who pulled her forward, her small hand gripping Ayla's with an unrelenting determination.

"We shouldn't be here," Ayla hissed, her voice a whisper as if speaking too loudly might draw unwanted attention from something deep in the woods.

She looked back over her shoulder, half expecting to see their mother or Aunt Cerise coming after them. But when she looked back, she saw nothing but soft floating snowflakes and the dark trunks of trees blending into the haze that coated the forest.

Their Mother and Aunt had been busy with their duties in the village, helping the community as they always did, their delicate hands glazing across threads - watching the strands vibrate and coil around their slender fingers, they would mutter words at they studied them, strong, vibrant, sturdy but when their hand unfurled a new strand - one thicker and gleaming with an almost brass hue - they paused. Their eyes widened and a look flashed across their face that Ayla did not understand but made the knots in her stomach wind and turn as they did when she felt something wrong.

Their Mother and Aunt had left them in the oratory to continue studying, with strict instructions to stay inside.

The oratory was thick with anticipation and smoke from the fire pit, so quiet Ayla could hear the crackle and hiss of the wood burning. The smoke mixed and twirled between a thick layer of golden weaves. Amara's eyes studied the way they moved, although obscured Amara's eyes easily followed each movement with quick passing glances. Her small hand reached upwards towards them and catching stands that bent and gravitated towards her fingers as if called upon. They flowed between her fingers like fingers running through water. Amara's eyes blazed with an understanding, as if the stands had whispered new knowledge to her.

She turned to Ayla. "We should follow it." She whispered, her voice lifting at the end in exhilaration.

Ayla's hands clambered against her stomach her brows knitting together. "I'm not sure.... Mother said to stay here."

Amara rolled her eyes at Ayla. "You won't learn anything by looking at books Aylara. Aren't you a little curious?."

Ayla bit her lip. Amara had a way of getting her to do things that she didn't want to do and the prospect of inching even a little closer to Amara's ability to was enough to entice Ayla to grab Amara's out stretched hand and follow her off the winding past and into the dark forest.

Ayla continued following Amara through the woods; her hand grasping her own as she trudge forward beneath the brass line above their heads that slipped through feathers leaves. Amara continued to pull Ayla deeper and further away from the path.

Ayla looked around cautiously, glimpsing shadows within darkness that watched with beady eyes and sly smiles but when she turned she only saw the trail of their footprints in crisp white snow. The woods had a way of seeming alive and dead all at once.