Princess of Shadows

Part 1, The Phoenix - Chapter 4: The Secret Garden

'Where is he?' Aithne questioned herself silently, as she ran up one corridor and down another in search of Garth. She had left the dining hall with the intent to follow and catch up with him, but after leaving, he had disappeared. 

Aithne wasn't ready to give up yet, she wasn't dissuaded easily. And so she searched the entire manor, for what seemed like a half hour, although it had probably only been ten minutes. But eventually she grew tired of the dreary stone corridors and the Orlv banner that lined every single wall, hanging at regular intervals.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, Aithne gave up and decided to take a walk to get some fresh air. It would clear her head; exercise always did. So she exited the manor through a back door and found herself in the gardens behind the building. The area was completely shaded, from both the bulk of Orlv Manor and its surrounding walls or the many weeping trees that grew therein, and it was serenely quite, save for the trickling of a creek.

The garden itself was in the shape of a half moon, with the back of the manor forming the straight edge and the curved wall that encircled the building, forming the half circle. The door through which Aithne had entered, was the only one in sight and she had emerged in the far left side of the half circle, right in the corner. A winding path cast in moving shadows, led out to her right and Aithne decided to take it.

A dark creeper, clung to the stone walls that encircled the garden, giving off the atmosphere that once you had entered the garden, you were no longer in Orlv Manor... but elsewhere. For the first part, the path stayed near the wall of the manor, but then it swerved to Aithne's left, through the pensive trees.

The trees were unlike any Aithne had seen before, the bark was a silvery colour and the leaves and branches above, were a greeny grey that sprouted up and then fell back down again, creating a protective canopy that concealed and isolated what lay beneath it's branches. The grass was odd also; it matched the silvery green hues of the trees and gracefully grew upwards, with some blades being ankle length and some knee length.

The path was strangely cobbled, although it fitted, in some weird but wonderful way. The dancing shadows, inflicted on the garden by the curious trees that seemed to be whispering in a nonexistent wind, also fitted and added to the peculiarity of the garden. But it was calm. The passing of time seemed to halt and there was only Aithne and the garden. Suddenly she felt the need to remove her shoes.

Once she had done so, she slowly advanced on the path, the rough stone somehow welcoming underneath her feet. From somewhere deep inside herself, Aithne knew that she was in the right place and for the first time since encountering the possessed Prif, the previous day, she was at peace.

"Cartref..." she whispered, unsure why, but not at all troubled by it. She felt changed, somehow. She was calm and her head was clear, yet she also felt as if she was a little bit tipsy. She was so happy; nothing would bring her down. 

Gradually the trickling of the creek grew closer and eventually the small stream wound itself through the trees and across the path, where a small, yet elegant bridge had been built over the top of it. The wood was the same colour as the the trees surrounding it, but for some reason there was an oddity about it. As soon as she set her right foot down upon it, Aithne knew why; the wood wasn't dead, it was very much alive. Somehow, a tree had grown over the creek in the form of a bridge.

The smooth, silvery bark was cool beneath her skin and emanated a feeling of recognition. A feeling of acknowledgement. Then she felt another presence in the garden; a foreign one. Yet one that was familiar. With a fond stroke of the hand rail, Aithne moved on. 

Where the living bridge ended, the cobbled path didn't continue, but instead Aithne emerged into a circular, grassy clearing. Either side of her sat a stone bench, made of the same rough material that the cobbles had been made form. The bubbling creek continued on, running from left to right behind her and continuing up her right side to circle around the clearing and halt directly across from her, on the other side of the clearing. There, it pooled in a small pond, encircled by rock. Casting its drooping limbs protectively over the pond was a massive tree, at least twice the size of all the others. On the grassy banks of the seemingly very deep pond, sat cross legged Garth.