Page 42 of Whisper Woods

Their suggestions are wild and outlandish. The only thing they seem to agree on is that whatever occurred, it occurred at the burnt wreckage I found on my way here. And that Theo, Roan, Caelan, Tor, Edith and Seff were involved.MySeff.

It takes every ounce of training to not haul Roan and Theo off to interrogate them about what happened in that cottage. To laugh and listen like it’s all okay, while inside my mind spirals.

What happened? What vile and wretched being had lived there? Had he been hurt? Had he been scared? What if he was injured—or worse,killed—and I’d never known?

The thoughts continue to torment me as I wait for Seff to return to thetavern. The afternoon drifts into the evening and despite the anxiety crawling under my skin, I stay busy, learning all that I can. Pretending I am not going out of my mind.

I play cards with a group of fae and minotaurs on the patio. It ends rather abruptly when the latter accuses the former of cheating and flips the table and a brawl almost breaks out. That is until Mauvy trotted out from the kitchens and threatened to dismember them all and serve them as soup over the winter.

I share wine with centaurs on the lawns in the late afternoon sun. I buy a pint of blood for a quiet vampire that lurks in a booth, who is rather disgruntled by the number of beings disturbing his usual peace at the Black Stump. I learn as much as I can without being obvious, and over the evening a picture begins to form about the events and the beings here at the Black Stump Tavern.

Before he leaves for the evening, Seldon stops me again, pressing a slip of paper into my hand.

“I meant to give you this earlier. But it’s been crazy, and I really thought he’d be back by now.” It’s Seff’s phone number. I thank him, but he’s already off, smiling and winking as he slips on his coat, ready to leave.

Seldon isn’t the only one who thought Seff would have returned by now. With a method of contacting him now in my possession I’m unable to hold on to the last shreds of my focus.

“If you’ll excuse me.” I bow to the group of beings at my table, who are discussing a lack of dasilus flowers blooming near the hot springs this season. I joined the conversation as the flowers, known for their healing properties, were uncommon outside of Tathys, blooming only in small areas of the Woods. Apparently, they are not the only wild flora crops that have become noticeably scarce recently. And more still have lost their potency.

In my room I send Seff a message on my phone. Agonising over the wording like they are a poem for the ages. Refusing to stare at the blasted device, willing some kind of response, I pull out my journal again, making note of it all. Then I send Brydon more details of everything I learned about Theo’s kidnapping.Bothof them.

Only when I’ve completed my duties do I check my phone, swallowing downmy bitter disappointment at the empty screen and crawl into the bed that still smells of him.

***

A message is waiting for me when I wake. But it’s not from Seff. A scrap of acid green waiting at my altar.

Gods, that poor Theo! Is he okay? Good news, it looks like everything seems to come back to those beings at the tavern.

Between the prophecy, happening upon someone you know, the mages being there as well as that book Tarook gave you and now this? The Whisper Woods isn’t being subtle Rafe, it’s orchestrating this all. Can you get to where everything happened the other day? Maybe there is still something to be found and we can end this all now.

A viscerally upsetting feeling curdles in my guts. I loathe the idea of returning to my duties. I loathe the idea that something is occurring, and that it is somehow connected to Seff—even tangentially. I loathe the slimy feeling that comes with the idea that our meeting may have somehow been a folly of the Gods.

The feeling doesn’t ease my already fraught feelings over not knowing what occurred at the pulse point. I consider cornering Roan and questioning him. Or perhaps even the witch. But through logic, or insanity, I want the story from Seff. And only him.

And considering he’s still not here, I want nothing more than to change into my other skin and rage. Stomp, and roar. Tear up a tree or two. I want to storm my way back to Twin Heads, find Seff and punish him for leaving me like this. Leaving meat all. Punish him for distracting me from my course. For leaving me. Abandon Tathys and the Woods and all that ties us here and tie him to me instead.

The idea has merit.

And I consider it for far too long before rationality takes back over and I make my way downstairs for a sensible breakfast. The tavern is quiet this morning. It’s almost too easy to make my way past the cottages behind the tavern and into the Woods.

As I follow the path, still well worn from the rescue parties barreling through the area, another way becomes clear. It’s overgrown and barely distinguishable, but my instincts tell me to follow it, and so I do—all the way to the top of Whisper Falls.

Creatures watch me intently from the shadows of the trees. The path is narrow and wild, and so I’ve changed my skin. The scales are far more protective against the onslaught of the branches that I crash through.

Unfortunately, while the Whisper Falls are beautiful, the trip turns out to be a waste of time. The Black Stump Tavern itself sits on a pulse point. I didn’t really expect there to be another here so close. There are signs that the area was once a sacred site for one group of beings or another, but the magic is long since dormant. And if there was anything remaining from Theo, the mages have taken it with them.

I return to the tavern hot, filthy and even more frustrated than when I left. When I see that there is still no response from Seff, I am nearly incandescent with rage at the situation I’ve found myself in. I feel impossibly close to the answers I seek, yet everything I am searching for is just out of reach, ever elusive and intangible.

Old enough to know that no problem was ever solved with a temper tantrum, with great effort I manage to calm myself in the shower. The water—combined with a special concoction I picked up from a witch on my travels—have a desperately needed soothing effect.

Finally capable of rational thought again, I remind myself of my priorities. Tathys, the prophecy, our safety.Thatis what matters.

Whatever occurred in the Woods is irrelevant. It doesn’t change the broken pulse point. I have more than enough information, and between the High Council, the Orun, and Brydon I have no doubt they will find the answer. There is nothing else for me here and I need to stop finding excuses to linger.

I dress quickly and return to my makeshift desk to add more notes to my journal from my day. Then I snatch out the ridiculous notepad from Brydon, scrawling out a message and setting it alight before I can second guess my intentions.

Brydon, I think I have enough information. I will begin my return to Tathys in the morning.

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