Page 59 of Whisper Woods

Alluyes is in Hedrana, the country to the west of Carconnois, their country consisting of more water than land. Alluyes is known for its beautiful, dense tropical flora and the main rivers making up the region that glow with a vibrant blue bio-luminescent light.

And so, cocooned from reality in our hollow tree, the rest of the world washed away by the storm and pelting rain, I tell him of drinking hallucinogenic potions with the water mages, and the sirens who attempted to waylay our barge as I made my way through the rivers of the rainforest with my guide. Of getting stung by some terrifyingly large insect-like creature and almost losing a leg.

He listens enraptured, laughing until tears burn his eyes when I tell himabout a communication error with one of the sirens that almost had me accidentally agreeing to mate with one of them.

“Man, it sounds amazing.” He sighs wistfully, leaning his head into my hand as I pet his hair. I can feel the longing rolling off him in waves. That deep longing I’ve sensed in him since I saw him on the cliff that first night.

I have spent more nights than I’d like to admit lying awake, thinking about Seff. Where he is in the world and what he is doing there. Wondering if he is happy, if he is well. If he is thinking about me, too. On the worst nights I have looked up at the moon, feeling the strange reassurance that no matter the answers to the questions that plague me, it’s the same moon as he sees. On those nights, I savoured it as the only connection between us.

Those nights always led to days of wondering how he’d managed to embed himself so deeply inside me. How, in our brief time together I have been left to walk the earth with a gaping hole next to me in the shape of him.

But now, with my body wrapped around him, I know the answer, feeling how his spirit calls to mine, like two pieces of a whole. It’s the acknowledgement of all the things I cannot face. It’s as reassuring as it is unsettling.

“It was beautiful there.” My voice is reedy from the thoughts I am battling to keep inside. Clearing my throat I ask, “Have you ever travelled?”

He shakes his head, dragging the phoenix feather up the bare skin of my arm absentmindedly. “Nah. I’ve always wanted to. Got a list as long as my arm. But it just never worked out.” He attempts to be nonchalant, but falls short of the mark.

“Why did it not work out?”

He doesn’t fidget at all, which is more telling than anything he could say. Even the feather is now still on my arm. “Just like, work and the pack and stuff. Wolves, they don’t do that, you know?”

I manage to suppress my grunt into a soft snort that twitches his hair. He smiles against my chest, his stubble scraping my chest lightly.

“It’s fine, though. Like, the Woods are cool. I’ve probably explored more of them than most of the pack put together. It’s… it’s cool.”

It isn’t. We both know it, but it feels almost cruel to say anything more whenI cannot offer him anything more.

“Tell me about the Woods. The things you’ve seen.” I ask instead.

And that’s how we spend the rest of our night. He tells me of the hot pools he’s travelled to, and finding a mermaid's cavernous den by accident. About getting trapped in the bogs as a child and being rescued by a passing minotaur. The tales occasionally include his pack, but mostly include a being by the name of Caelan. His voice is tinged with sadness in those stories.

Eventually, the storm passes and the rain eases. It’s early morning when Seff’s eyes fall heavily and his words begin to slur before he falls asleep mid-story about a witch called Edith selling fake potions to townspeople she dislikes. His soft snores lull me to sleep, more content than I’ve been for far too long.

When the orange dawn light finally breaks through the hollow, I wake alone, with nothing but an ache in my neck, the memory of his gentle kiss goodbye and his phoenix feather tucked into my hand.

Seff

“Who is he andwhyis he in the High Council chambers?” I jump in my chair, a tall-backed incredibly uncomfortable thing next to Rafe’s identical chair. We didn’t even make it to his house before two hulking guard dudes stopped us—seriously they makemelook scrawny—demanding we come to the palace with them.

I worried at first, that I was under arrest or something for trespassing, but Rafe and Brydon both reassured me, well Wolf, that it was fine. Rafe and Brydon both seemed like they were, if not friendly, at least on a first name basis with them. Gurt and Edley were the queen's guards. Well, not the queen. They used another title, but it was all the same really.

Honestly, the past twenty-four-ish hours have been so unbelievably insane, I am—for the first time in my entire life—entirely at ease. No, at ease isn’t the right words for it. It’s like between the exhaustion, the emotions, and the information overload, my brain has taken a jump and left me to fend for myself. Even Wolf is suspiciously quiet.

My eyes are burning, my body is killing me and the pants Edley got for me are giving me a wicked wedgie. I haven’t even begun to absorb Tathys and all of its, well, everything. Like I said, my brain’s gone. Zilcho. No communicado.

The room we’re in right now is pretty, though. I haven’t managed to take in much of Tathys’s vibe or whatever, but if this room is anything to go by, they havestyle. And even though the palace itself is made of beige stone, they are not frightened of colour. Alotof colour.

This room, theHigh Council’s Chambersas the old guy who just blustered his way into the room called it, is painted a deep navy colour, with gold colouredtrim around the walls. Giant arched windows line the walls floor to ceiling with brilliant coloured glass in floral patterns. Even the floor is colourful, with mosaic tiles in intricate patterns.

Around the giant, octagonal, dark wood table dominating the room, surrounded by the High Council members, Council aids, other Tavishers, and the frickenQueen, there is an uncomfortable murmuring and shifting, several beings sharing significant side-eye.

I’m controversial, apparently.

Rafe clears his throat, leaning forward, obviously ready to take the lead when High Eminence Elianora—the not-a-queen—straightens in her chair, the air shifting with a sudden pulse of power. It makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I pull awkwardly at my borrowed shirt, a plain white sleeveless button up with a band collar, wishing I was a little less exposed, and a little less in borrowed clothes.

“Grand Master Heylor. Good of you to finally join us.” Power radiates from the High Eminence, taking some of the wind out of the guy’s sails. But not enough. He looks like a pompous windbag. His jaw clenches visibly as he bows in deference to his ruler. It’s more of a nod really. And I mean, I don’t know much about etiquette or whatever, but it was definitely the bare minimum deference.

“High Eminence. My apologies, I was delayed speaking to my son.”

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