In the Dark Beneath the Trees

Chapter one: Nyleene

It was an old tune, but one I loved; my father used to sing it to me before he left.

The old turtle shell lyre refused to yield to my clumsy fingers, not enough to impress anyway, but I crinkle my nose and try to force my fingers to draw out the music. My voice dips as low, but not low enough to match the notes as I used to hear them. The deep baritone my father had left with him to the forest floor. Yet, even in the wrong octave, I can feel the spirit of the tune. It makes my spine tingle and my mind dance through memories. In strange fashion, it has me long for days I've only heard about and never myself lived. In my mind, that connection that I feel to history justifies the hours of sunlight wasted playing tunes when I should be tending the trees.

Mother will be furious if she catches me again.

As a sylph, you have a divine calling to tend Gwaena's forest, she'd say, Idle hands are the sign of an ungrateful heart. Spiritual invigoration through work is her song, and everyone else in the forest. The truth is our family is not well thought of. She knows the only way that will change is if her daughters, Saveene and I, gain marks and prestige as great cultivators. Wouldn't that look good on her? Not if I continue to sit here, hide from the world and twiddle my fingers on gut strings.

A snap in the branches to my left interrupts my thoughts; a squirrel, gliding between the trees, disappears in the shadows of the understory below me. Once it's gone, I relax and turn back to my strumming. My wings are still twitching from the fright that maybe I'd been caught again.

Like my father, I hate tending trees and working my days away. When he left, I was hurt as much as anyone—more even—but I think I understand. I hang his lyre from the branch beside me. It swings casually from the strap. Hand and foot I crawl like a monkey across the branch to where the squirrel dropped and peer down into the shadowy world below. It's nothing more than a thick web of lifeless branches. The leaves of the upper canopy greedily soak up all the sunlight, leaving the branches of the understory to die and no light for Nymir—the forest floor.

I give my wings a shake and they rustle like the leaves they are, but they aren't quite strong or full enough for me to fly with them yet. It would be certain death if I fell, but my mind moves on its own, wondering if Nymir is really a thousand feet below as I've been told. Are there branches all the way down? Few sylphs really know. Most don't venture below the canopy leaves. Taking care to give my feet sturdy holds and keep a solid grip with my hands, the descent begins. Each step drops me into greater darkness until I'm nearly blind. Going by feel is much slower. My feet stretch into dim shadows until my toes touch a branch below and I let my weight onto it. Hand, foot, lower, deeper, I descend into the unknown world below.

Lower, the darkness is becoming overwhelming. Even at night there are moons and stars to light the way in the canopy. They say the forest floor is darker than the dead of night and I believed it, but I'm now realizing how much I couldn't comprehend that kind of dark. For the first time in my life, I realize, I have never been in complete darkness.

Even if I reach the forest floor, what good will exploring it be if I can't see anything? I'm embarrassed that the thought hadn't occurred to me before I started climbing down. I can't see anything. I can't see anything; I look up to find a higher branch but there is no light, save a few tiny glimmers not quite breaking through the canopy far above me. It's fine. I climbed down. I can climb back up, right?

I stretch up, reaching into the darkness for a handhold. The branch I catch feels thinner than I'd like, but in a panic, I take hold of it anyway. My ribs tighten behind a rising need to be home where it's safe. As I lift my feet to find a foothold above me, the branch I'm hanging from groans and bends beneath my weight. My toes scrape a branch, but they slip off as I try to settle on it.