The forest was dark, the trees bent and menacing. The canopy covered the sky and made a tunnel of the path ahead. Shapes moved in the shadows. A trick of the light? The wind in the twisted boughs? Not likely. I felt watched.

Some of the trees were familiar--cedar, pine, spruce, hemlock, and maple. And others less so, although I’d seen them before in the woods around the glen--one with black, furry bark and reddish pods hanging from its branches. Another was striped yellow, the leaves smelling of cardamom.

The unusual trees were covered in coal dust. Except it wasn’t coal nor dust. They were motes of darkness. There was no sound, but I felt them buzz and hiss as they swirled around the trees. A gap showed, and a glimmer of soft silver light appeared, only to be swallowed again by the dark light.

I stayed to the center of the path, my eyes roving, not lingering too long on any one section of the forest. My breath was soft, and my tread even softer. I didn’t know if my grandfather could see me from the meadow, but I didn’t want to embarrass him and his lessons.

A branch moved, and it wasn’t the wind. I exhaled. Drew the bow. Found the target and released. The creature--not a tree, but looking like one--shook as the arrow struck it in the shoulder. It charged at me, its branch-like arms swinging, but its legs were thick and cumbersome. I was faster and ran to make space; turned and planted my feet to shoot again.

The creature was twelve feet tall. Its eyes were dark pools, its mouth open in a rictus of anger. I found my target. There was no need to worry about physics in this strange spirit place. Intention was everything, and my intention was true.

The arrow struck the creature through the eye. It stumbled, and its body tumbled to the ground. The swirling dark light dispersed. The silver light underneath glimmered, and then it too dispersed, the motes spreading into the air, the forest, and me. The feeling was warm and wild, like potential and freedom. My body responded with a shudder.

The silver light touched my bow, and the wood smoothed under my hands. When I pulled the arrows from the creature’s body, the shafts were straighter and the arrowheads sharper. They gleamed in the forest’s half light.

I still couldn’t speak, but I mouthed the words my grandfather taught me. Thank you. Your sacrifice will feed our bodies and sustain our lives. Be easy and move onto your next life.

I moved on, my heart beating like a drum. Ahead was the tunnel’s exit, and there, waiting for me, was an otter. I wanted to run, but didn’t. I took my time, approaching the exit with care, and made sure the otter was real. She quirked her head and watched me approach. That’s when I knew it was Ikfael Glen.

I stepped into the glen. It was the same as in the physical world, except all the surfaces--the stone and the water--glowed faintly with silver light.

Ikfael waved me over and had me sit in a pentacle beside the pool. She had me drink from a gourd and painted my forehead and torso with water. I recognized some of the patterns from the map of my meridians, but other parts were runes and symbols.

She tapped me on the forehead to make sure I was paying attention. Her eyes were the color of water, glimmering in the light, edged with dark flint. I couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t move, as she pushed the flint knife I’d given her into my chest.

The knife’s tip touched the door guarding my mana.

She began to work steadily and intently to etch a rune in the door. Ikfael wasn’t trying to cut her way through. The door served a purpose after all, and her intention was to add onto that purpose, not take away.

Drops of mana beaded inside the rune’s lines, finding a way to appear outside the door. More and more crossed the boundary until the rune was full of mana.

Ikfael Glen withdrew the knife and examined her handiwork. The door was as solid as before, but there was a shimmering rune full of mana on its surface. She sat back with a sigh and laughed a little, pleased with herself.

She was about to gesture, when something outside the glen caught her attention. Something alarming, because she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the pool.

###

A silvery, ethereal light shimmered on the cave’s walls, only to fade and be replaced by the dawn’s light coming through the waterfall. A soft chime reverberated through me. There was a popup on my Status page:

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to choose a Path.

But I didn’t have time to look at the notification. The otter, the Spirit of Ikfael Glen, urgently handed me my bow and pointed outside the cave.