Elewýs perched in the crown of a great tree. Walking around the village was impossible without well-wishers inquiring how she and Eormenric were getting along, while Hotch stood at the gate making it difficult to sneak out of Wigsteall. For ten minutes, Elewýs watched Fustrendel approach her refuge, in a straight line, peering up each tree.

It was sweet how he was making the effort to give her a little warning,

Fustrendel reached her tree, “Good morning, Elewýs!”

Elewýs sighed then waved.

“Would you mind coming down? I’d rather not shout.”

Elewýs slid from branch to branch, careful not to slip on the flaky birch bark. Much to her relief, Fustrendel didn’t patronise her by telling her to be careful.

“Thank you, I was getting quite the crook in my neck,” said Fustrendel.

“What did you want to shout about?”

“Something that shouldn’t be shouted about at all.” Fustrendel stared at her with a serious expression, utterly at odds with his usual, care-free smiles.

“No need to be scared, I’m your father-in-law, not a Gréatian.”

“Exactly,” said Elewýs.

Fustrendel laughed, “I know you’re worried and that now isn’t the best time, but I have something important to tell you. Please visit my home this evening. You need to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I thought I was marrying into your family.”

“Exactly,” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs smiled. She couldn’t win, “What else is there?”

Fustrendel swept his arm around him, pointing at the surroundings, “The answer to the question that nobody asks.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Then rather than tonight, visit me when you’re ready, but don’t leave it too long. You’re not only marrying into our community, but one of the Elder families. I couldn’t, in good conscience, let you marry my son without telling you the whole story.”

“You mean you won’t permit it until I listen to you?”

“That’s not what I meant, Elewýs. You may do as you wish. Your marriage, however, affects more than the two of you, it involves all of the Galdorcwide.”

“Is it really that important?”

“How old do you think I am, Elewýs?”

Elewýs blinked, “I don’t know, fifty-five?” She panicked – that’s unfair, putting me on the spot like that.

Her discomfort must have shown as Fustrendel laughed, his seriousness dissipating with every rich chuckle, “I’m flattered. You’re not even close. Try again, a little older this time.”

“Sixty-two?”

“Better, but no.”

“Why are you so smug?”

Fustrendel whispered in her ear. Elewýs burst out laughing, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes, it is,” said Fustrendel.

“Then how old is…”

“Eormenric is twenty-eight, a year younger than you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Fustrendel squeezed her hand, “Then you should humour me and listen to my story.”

“I will visit when I can spare the time.”

“I’d have thought you’d leap at a chance to visit your fiancé,” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs didn’t know what to say.

Fustrendel patted her arm, “Take care, my dear.”

Elewýs trotted away, intrigued, annoyed, and a little shaken. There was no way she was going to believe his little whisper. Devious ass, dropping a mystery in my lap like that. Six-hundred and eighty-three years old. Ridiculous!

Before she could decide where to go, Elewýs arrived at the village gate.

“Hello, Elewýs,” said Hotch.

He was whining. How distasteful. Elewýs walked passed without a word.

Hotch grabbed her wrist, “Where are you going?”

She felt her skin begin to itch under his grip, “Hunting.”

“Where’s your bow?” said Hotch, with a smug grin.

“I don’t need one,” she said. Elewýs pulled Hotch’s spear from his hand and shoved him backwards.

“That’s mine! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” said Elewýs. “Why are you here? To watch a gate that almost no one uses so you can harass me as I come and go?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped, “No.”

“Too bloody right,” said Elewýs, scratching her wrist. Elewýs stormed out the wicket gate and slammed it behind her. Mortar trickled off the gate supports.

Ignore him, he’s powerless.

Elewýs wandered the forest trails thinking, rather than trying to achieve something, while keeping an eye out for the forest’s monsters. Maybe killing one will help, doesn’t seem right though.

With great satisfaction, Elewýs embedded Hotch’s spear at the foot of a tree, eight miles from Wigsteall. Next, she visited her favourite bathing spot and checked a few supply caches she’d squirrelled away around the forest. Unsure what to do next, Elewýs picked a direction at random, and walked to the edge of the Wúduwésten.

Elewýs stared out at the empty wilderness for a whole hour before stepping past the tree line and out into the evening sun. It’s so bright, so open. Grassy smells tickled her nose. She sneezed, rubbed her eyes, and walked further into the sunshine.

After travelling for three hours from the forest Elewýs began to feel dizzy – I should go back now before the pain gets worse. Elewýs lay in the long yellow grass, draped her arm over her forehead, and watched the thin lines of clouds far above her.

I never should have dated Hotch: demanding, persistent ass, always trying to be more affectionate than I was comfortable with; touching and groping while he spouted his nonsense about how much he liked me, how we’d be good for each other, and how the adoptees should stick together.

Does he have any idea how much I hate his constant, righteous bullshit? Did he think I liked being touched by him, that I wanted him? Sure, I shivered every time he touched me, but that wasn’t for the reason he had in mind.

Doesn’t he get it? Just because we must become a part of the Galdorcwide, doesn’t mean I should settle down. I can’t, not here, not among strangers.

The last time Hotch tried to cop a feel, I kicked his feet from under him and left him gasping in the dust, but he has never understood the message.

Eormenric is a kind, handsome man, who’s always attentive to my needs, so why am I so hesitant about marrying him? Perhaps Heude was right and I am only marrying to get away from Hotch. My mind is as warped as my body. Maybe I should-

Maybe I’m a bloody idiot. Eormenric asked me to marry him and I said yes. I will not renounce a promise.

My life cannot remain in limbo forever.

Elewýs awoke with a sneeze and vomited blood streaked bile onto the grass. It was morning. I’ve travelled too far, for too long, again. Elewýs staggered upright and loped back the way she’d come, tremors torturing her body as her mind swirled in self-inflicted turmoil. She crawled the last mile, sweating colourful beads from her pale, rainbow skin. Her hands wore away on the jagged ground, leaving a scarlet smear across the landscape.

Three nights later, Elewýs snuck into Wigsteall, mostly recovered from her brief foray outside the forest. The gate was closed, but unbarred. She winced as it creaked open. Hotch had finally given up and was nowhere in sight. I hope I can sneak into the longhall without anyone noticing.

Elewýs paused. The familiar whispers of the night enveloped her senses as she inhaled the intoxicating scent of brushwood blooms, underscored by a faint, foetid odour of decay. Her mind steadied. It’s now or never. Elewýs changed direction.

Her resolve lasted to the door of Fustrendel’s family longhouse. Elewýs paced back and forth trying to gather enough courage to knock.

Fustrendel opened the door before she could make her mind, “I see curiosity overcame caution.” He sounded more concerned than judgemental.

I must look terrible.

Eormenric stood behind his father, silhouetted by the soft, yellow light spilling from within the longhall. His lip was a pulped mess and his left eye was almost swollen shut. Elewýs slipped past Fustrendel and placed a light kiss on his battered cheek.

Eormenric winced, “I’ve never been in a fight before.”

“I can guess what happened,” said Elewýs. “Did you win?”

He kissed her back, “I wouldn’t call it winning. Heude intervened and stopped it from getting out of hand. How are you feeling?”

“Never better.”

“You sound grumpy,” said Eormenric.

“I haven’t had much sleep,” said Elewýs.

“How was the Cassuc Westeland?” said Fustrendel.

Eormenric gently tipped her head from side to side, checking her eyes and ears. He wiped a crusty streak from her earlobe. Guessing from his face, it was her blood. She must have come very close to dying.

“How long?” said Eormenric.

“I don’t know, I fell asleep. A night, maybe.”

“I’m glad you made it back,” said Fustrendel.

“So am I,” she said. Maybe if I keep speaking the right words, they will come true.

“Are you?” said Eormenric.

Elewýs pressed her forehead against Eormenric’s shoulder and he relaxed.

“Come in, I’ll get you something to drink,” said Eormenric.

Elewýs felt his voice rumble through her skull. A drink would be nice, but she pushed him away, “Not yet, I can’t let this go on forever. Hotch, won’t take no for an answer. I love you Eormenric. Both you and your father have shown me nothing but kindness. If there’s something Fustrendel needs to tell me before we can get married, I’ll listen. The sooner this is over with, the quicker our lives can return to normal.”

“It’s good to hear you say that,” said Eormenric. “I was beginning to worry.”

That’s it? ‘I was beginning to worry’. I finally said ‘I love you’, in front of Fustrendel no less, and that was all you could say?

“Now is as good a time as any,” said Fustrendel. “You can save your tender reunion for when I’m out of sight.” Fustrendel grabbed a long metal staff leaning near the door frame.

“Getting old?” said Elewýs.

“This isn’t for walking,” said Fustrendel. “Follow me.”

Eormenric chuckled, “I think you hit a nerve.”

“Are you coming too?”

“No, there are only so many times a son can listen to his father’s stories, no matter how impressive they are.”

“Are they impressive?”

“For once, his drama is necessary. Few members of the Galdorcwide are shown our secret more than once.”

“You’re making me feel anxious.”

“You have nothing to worry about, he’s only going to tell you a story.”

“Where is he taking me?”

“I don’t want to spoil it for you. Wait and see.” Eormenric hugged her, “You’d better hurry, I can’t see him any more.”

Elewýs turned to go.

“Oh, and Elewýs? One last thing.” Eormenric had a little smile on his face, identical to Fustrendel’s.

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Elewýs fled into the soothing shadows of Wigsteall.

Bastard, letting me hang like that for two whole minutes, nothing like the two years I strung him along for. He really meant it too, unlike me.

Fustrendel’s ambling figure was illuminated within a delicate shaft of gentle starlight. She’d never seen starlight reach beneath the canopy before. Elewýs angled towards Fustrendel and ran.

“I’m glad you followed,” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs grunted.

The starlight followed them as they walked along the paved streets towards the centre of the village.

“Your hometown, Éaggemeare,” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs jumped, “What of it?”

“It was a brave venture in a hostile land. They are doing well, all things considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you seen the ruined mud-city to the south-east?”

“Do you ever give a straight answer?”

Fustrendel tapped his staff along the road, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Elewýs stopped and crossed her arms.

“There is a point to all this, I promise.” Fustrendel strode ahead, forcing Elewýs to hurry after him.

“My grandfather lived in one of those cities, fourteen hundred years ago. Yes, even at my age, it’s difficult to wrap your head around such a vast gulf of time. I’m well aware it’s not something you can grasp by thinking about it because it is outside your experience. Don’t feel you have to spout philosophical trivialities to prove you do. Listen and ask the questions that come to mind.”

“I’ll try,” said Elewýs.

Fustrendel nodded, “In the past the Galdorcwide were human, but we’ve been here so long we were born as you see us.”

“If my body hadn’t grown, I wouldn’t believed you,” said Elewýs.

“Much like the rest of the world.”

“What happened?”

“We suffered a great disaster. It had nothing to do with human nature as the rise and fall of nations so often does, but a natural phenomenon. Over a few, awful years, we were decimated. We scattered around the world hoping to escape destruction. A few of the more stubborn members of our society, of which my grandfather was one, set out to quell this force of nature. Their actions could have been born from a selfless, or patriotic, desire to save what was left, but I expect it was more a mix of arrogance and courage.

“From the stories my father told me, I have always pictured the thirteen founders of Wigsteall as terribly bad losers. Eventually, they succeeded, but like all great feats, there was a cost. One that their descendants continue to pay to this day.”

What does it have to do with me?”

“The world around us is a good example: the trees, the Gréatian, your new body.”

“My body? I’m not a descendant.”

“No, you probably aren’t, but you changed nonetheless.”

“Am I paying that cost then?”

“Possibly, it depends on your point of view. The gigantic world around us, however, is more of a symptom. As for paying my ancestors' toll, it’s not you who will have to pay it, but rather any children you have may have to.”

“Is it because I’m marrying Eormenric?”

“Yes and no.”

“Gods dammit Fustrendel. Can’t you give me a better answer?”

“Yes, because you are getting married. No, because it could affect any children that you have. As long as you choose to make your home amongst the Galdorcwide, all children must face the possibility of a lifetime obligation.”

“If we can’t leave the forest, where else would we live?”

“Do you really wish me to be so cruel as to reinforce your curtailed freedom after you go to such lengths to prove it to yourself by repeatedly visiting the grasslands? The Galdorcwide live under the same conditions as the adoptees. I’m delighted both you and my son are open minded enough to realize this and happy to support you, but I don’t want you jumping into a commitment without knowing everything.”

“Perhaps I won’t have any children.”

Fustrendel burst out laughing, “If you get married, unless you are incredibly unfortunate, you’ll have children.”

Elewýs blushed, “What about my sister and the rest of us?”

“Yes, this could affect them too.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“Me? Not a thing.”

“But-”

“I am telling you because you are going to become part of my family. What you choose to do with the information is up to you. That includes telling the rest of the adoptees, should you wish to do so.”

“Why me?”

“You are the oldest and more thoughtful than the others. I think it will be easier for your friends and family to accept the truth if it comes from you.”

I’ve made enough mess of my own life. How can he expect me to make the right choice for others?

Elewýs and Fustrendel reached the centre of the town where the largest tree in the forest grew. A door was cut into the trunk, covered in symbols.

Fustrendel pointed at it with a flourish, “Please follow me.”

Fustrendel led her down a circular flight of steps deep underground. Her irritation faded as soft starlight accompanied them into the earth. A breeze wafted from below, filled with musty rot and the scent of vibrant greenery. A faint tingling invigorated her tired mind and strengthened the sudden, savage beat of her heart. Snatches of berserk birdsong tugged her ears.

The earth thundered with a single throb. Elewýs felt woozy.

“Steady, my dear.”

“You can say ‘steady’ all you like, but I still feel weird.”

“Give it a moment.”

Elewýs pressed her hand against the worked stone of the stairwell and descended. After a few steps, her body settled into its new rhythm. She felt like she was sprinting, but was held at the perfect moment where the world zipped past, filling her with vigour, but exhaustion was yet to settle in her bones.

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and entered a vast cavern. The subterranean space flooded with pale light, tinting Elewýs’s world in sapphire blue. A circle of thirteen yellow, stone obelisks, carved with strange flowing shapes and angular lines, dominated the centre of the chamber. Each obelisk was a different shape, but all were equally massive. The stone floor of the cavern was inlaid with identical symbols, laid out in a great web.

“Welcome, Elewýs, to the heart of the forest,” said Fustrendel.

He had one of his knowing smiles twitching at the edge of his lips, but Elewýs was too exhilarated to be angry. The earth around her trembled with life; she felt as if she could do anything. She wanted to run forever, shout, and dance all at the same time.

She felt free.

“This is a curse?” said Elewýs. She sprinted around the stone circle again and again.

“What you’re feeling is the power of a Cwylla, a wellspring of magic. This particular one is an almost endless source of life.”

“It’s incredible,” gasped Elewýs, a little breathless after her fifth circuit of the chamber.

“It is, but you can have too much life. For the last fourteen hundred years, thirteen elders have spread the power out at a steady rate within the confines of the forest using these obelisks made from Feorhhord Gimcynn, an artificial stone formed from condensed magic.

“Before our ancestors tamed the Cwylla, it ran wild, spawning chaos wherever it spread. Like the Galdorcwide, some of the creations from that time became a new species in their own right. Although they are much smaller than the original creatures who required an abundance of magic to sustain their great bodies.

The Cwylla makes the forest and its inhabitants grow beyond their natural size. It has left us trapped within a magical world of our own making, unable to move outside the Cwylla’s life-sustaining influence. That, in itself, is no great hardship, but all great spells require a focus and these obelisks are more demanding than most. Take a closer look.”

Elewýs bounded up to the closest obelisk. It was twelve feet high and its surface was like fine glass. The patterns decorating its surface were incredibly detailed, each interlocking with each other and further shapes filled the spaces within every mark. Elewýs stretched and traced the great swirl on the top of the obelisk with the tip of her finger, igniting a shoal of deep red sparks that followed her finger from within the stone. The effect was mesmerizing and helped calm her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Fustrendel, “but don’t be fooled; they’re incredibly dangerous.”

Elewýs snatched her hand away, “You could have told me!”

“It takes a different sort of touch to use the symbols and you’d have to mess with a lot of them to disrupt the spell. I’d almost be impressed if you could actually hurt yourself or break something.”

Elewýs stepped away, “What are the patterns for?”

“They shape the spell so that the magic pouring from the wellspring forms the way we want, without an Elder such as myself having to constantly intervene. The spell itself makes the trees, animals, and people within the forest grow larger in a controlled fashion, consuming much of the excess magic in the process. It’s better than allowing the magic to disperse into the air and spread around the world causing random mutations, many of which would lead to the death of the afflicted individual, if they’re lucky.

“A single drop, diluted many times over, could heal a life-threatening wound, or grow crops rapidly, but magic, like nature, does not spread itself out so conveniently. Like the saying goes: when it rains, it pours.”

“The stuff sounds too good to be true.”

“It is. The Gréatian are a convenient way of ensuring no one else tries to find that out the hard way.”

“How did your ancestors know which shapes to engrave?”

“Trial and error.” Fustrendel grinned, “I told you they were stubborn bastards. It must have taken them years to design, test, and implement the obelisks. It’s remarkable how they managed to create them under such challenging conditions. The first Galdorcwide Elders recorded how the shapes work, but the spell is so complex, most elders only learn the part pertaining to a single obelisk.”

The earth beat again. Thirteen small red lights flared within the centre of the obelisk.

“Why does the ground keep shaking?”

“It’s the obelisks pumping magic throughout the forest: the most active part of the spell and the burden any child of yours may have to shoulder, should they be unlucky enough to become a powerful Drýmann. Not many Galdorcwide who show the talent, volunteer to learn.”

“Show me.”

Fustrendel lent his staff against the obelisk and placed his hand on the stone. The red light pulsed and grew brighter, exposing a mass of scarlet veins throughout the vivid yellow stone. Where Fustrendel’s hand touched the stone, the veins writhed until they converged on his palm. The light spread into Fustrendel’s own body, turning from red to yellow as it left the stone. It rushed up the lines of his tattoos, highlighting sparse, tiny grains of yellow stone within the ash based ink forced into his skin. Fustrendel began to glow.

“What do you see inside the obelisk?” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs peered into the obelisk. There was no mistaking the silhouette or movement of the encased object. She shuddered.

“Look at me,” said Fustrendel.

Fustrendel was suffused with yellow light. Every artery, vein and organ was visible. They all led to a bright yellow heart, covered in tiny symbols. She glanced from one heart to the other. Both beat in unison, “Is that?” She trailed off, unable to make herself say it.

“My heart? Yes, it is. Every elders’ heart resides within one of these obelisks.” Fustrendel tapped his chest, “The one in here is a replacement made from the same material as the obelisk. The spell is too complex to run without guidance and takes too long to master in a single lifetime. By pairing my heart with the obelisk, I can overcome both those hurdles.”

“I…did it hurt?”

Fustrendel removed his hand from the face of the stone. The veins faded, “Yes.”

“No wonder you waited this long to tell one of us.”

“What do you think?”

“You really are six-hundred and eighty-three aren’t you?”

“And still handsome, if I do say so myself.”

“Will you never die?”

“Not until someone’s heart replaces mine, or the heart in my chest is crushed by something, like a Gréatian.”

“So that’s why you never leave the village.”

“If one of us dies suddenly, the spell could fail. We’ve no idea if it actually would, but it’s not the sort of thing we can test. It isn’t worth the risk.”

“So you’ve been stuck here for all these years.”

“It’s not all bad. I have my family.”

“And your fish.”

“Every man needs a hobby. I do get out of the village from time to time.”

“When was the last time you left?”

“Oh, I don’t know, thirty years maybe?”

Elewýs laughed, “You were right, age is all about perspective.”

“I’ve had more time than most to gain a little wisdom.”

“What about your family? Are there more of them?”

“Many, many more, but Eormenric is all I have for now.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“My family is my curse and my comfort. I have loved and lost more times than I care to remember. I have buried fourteen wives, forty-three sons, and sixty-seven daughters.

My heart is next in line to be replaced when our town produces another Drýmann with the right personality. Our connection to the forest means a person is more likely to be born a Drýmann here than many other parts of the world, but there are so few of us now it remains a rare occurrence. Even rarer is for someone to agree to become part of a shiny rock. You’d think near immortality would lure more people into the role, but the Galdorcwide grow up observing the isolation and heartbreak it can bring. It’s not something you can force on a person, because if they crack, we could lose everything.”

Fustrendel picked up his staff and stared at the obelisk, “I am eager to join the rest of my family.”

Elewýs tried to absorb the magnitude of Fustrendel’s tale. What do you say to someone who has upended your world view?

“Would you like to go for a walk with me through the forest tonight?” said Elewýs.

“I would be honoured.”