The sky was a sea of dark gray and green clouds. The wind whipped through the branches. A white mist hovered just above the ground, thick as cream. The murky trees loomed above the tall grasses, surrounded by shadow.

Morfindel approached the forest.

She shivered in the cold, trembled with fear. She did not know why she was going into the forest. Something was pulling her in.

“Morfindel…”

She staggered through the trees. Their branches grabbed at her hair, roots tried to trip her, but she stayed upright. The leaves rustled under her footsteps. She couldn’t see in the dark, but whatever was pulling her seemed to know the way.

Then she entered a small clearing. The gloomy light shone down on her face.

In the center of the clearing was a towering, twisted tree. A small stream ran under and around the thin roots, brimming with little vibrant fish, swimming around and around. Colorful glass jars hung from the branches.

Tiny pale forms, almost invisible, squirmed inside and pressed their pale little hands against the blue, green, red glass.

Built into the tree was a crude, frail structure of pieces of discarded metal welded together. Wooden steps wound around the roots, up the base of the trunk, and to a crooked door. At the door stood a tall, slender woman. Her skin was white and her hair was curly and black, tumbling down her shoulders and back.

“Morfindel.”

Her lips were of a red Morfindel had never seen before. Then those red lips parted, but no sound came out. Two sharp fangs shone in the dim light, and then she wasn’t a woman anymore, but a giant snake.

The snake slithered over the dead leaves on the ground. Morfindel tried to move, but her legs were made of stone. The snake was almost on top of her. It opened its jaws.

Its fangs glistened.

“Morfindel!”

Her name was coming more hurriedly now.

“Morfindel!”

She opened her mouth to scream.

“Morfindel!”

~:~

She opened her eyes and shot up straight.

“Morfindel!” Belegorn was saying. “Are you okay? It looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Morfindel rubbed her eyes. She was sticky with sweat. “What are you doing here, Belegorn? It’s the middle of the night.”

Belegorn wrung his hands and looked at the floor. “I…I’m scared, Morfindel,” he said.

His confession was followed by silence. Morfindel studied his face. She couldn’t remember the last time he had admitted to being scared of something. All at once, Morfindel was flooded with flattery that he would confide in her what he wouldn’t speak of to anyone else.

She smiled gently at him. “That’s to be expected Belegorn. But if your purpose is noble, the Powers will protect you.”

“And is my purpose noble?”

“Of course it is,” she said. “You are doing this for Aranna.”

Belegorn looked away. “I don’t know if the Powers will protect me. They haven’t before. I don’t know if they even exist.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What if I can’t even find the House? What if I die before I even reach it? What if it takes years to find it?”

She knew what he meant, but she chuckled. “All these ‘what if’s,” she said. “Don’t worry. You know exactly where it is. You remember how Hadhod would recite his old cautionary story about it to the kids: ‘Between three walls of cold, tall stone, the witch’s house makes its own home.’ The obvious location is Aman Loke, as it curls around in a C shape. Therefore, three walls of stone. Just follow a map.”

“You know maps of the forest are never accurate,” Belegorn said. “The hills were all mapped from a viewing point in the mountains, and the daredevil who drifted down the river once to map it wasn’t even a professional cartographer.”

“Will you go with me?”

Morfindel’s heart jumped. “What?”

“I can’t go alone!” He was practically on his knees. His face, looking up into hers, was in shadow, but his eyes, now watery, nearly glowed in the moonlight.

Beside her, Adurant shifted in his sleep. Belegorn dropped his voice. “Please?”

Morfindel’s mind went back to her dream. The pale, thin enchantress, the snake, the souls in the jars.

“Please.”

“You’re going to have to go alone, Belegorn. You got yourself into this mess. You’ve got to get yourself out of it.”

Belegorn hung his head and began to turn to the door.

It hurt Morfindel to see him like that, alone and frightened. His grandparents, on both sides, had died early, leaving his parents as only children. His mother, a small woman, nearly died during his birth and was unable to bear another child. Morfindel was one of the only three relatives he had. She was responsible for him. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he were to die in that cursed forest.

But she would die if she went into that forest with him.

“I…I’ll go with you, Belegorn,” she said. “But only to the edge of the forest. No further. It’s more than most would do.”

Belegorn turned with hope in his eyes. “You will?”

Morfindel was silent for a moment.

“Yes,” she said.