4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Day Three

M y eyes flutter open to the light of dawn filtering through the attic's solitary window. The room reveals its emptiness; Corvu is nowhere to be found. Faint voices echo, prompting me to rise. The stairs, steep and winding, conceal a corner where I linger, straining to discern Corvu's voice. I'm wary of encountering unexpected beings.

The barkeeper's voice interrupts the silence. "Are you sure, boy?" I recognize the tone. "Amulets like that are dangerous, and using them is just as bad."

"I won't have to use it," Corvu's voice responds confidently, ", have you heard how much Daemonaria are willing to pay for an amulet like that?"

"What color was it?"

"It was an amethyst."

"Humph." The barkeep sounds satisfied. "Keep that one close. You never know where she got that amulet from. It might be why she's here. Just see if she'll give it to you." They're after the amulet, just as Patricia warned. Corvu's kindness was a fa?ade to get to the amulet. How could I have been so naive?

Without hesitation, I sprint for the front door, thrusting it open without concern. Their calls fade as I push deeper into the crowd. The further I get, the harder it will be for Corvu to find me and seize the amulet. It's clear that some creatures, like some people, can't be trusted. I don't stop until I'm sufficiently out of breath.

And utterly lost.

Surveying the surroundings, Daemonaria still dot the landscape, but the crowd has thinned. The crowd has thinned, giving the scene an almost deserted feel. Stepping backward, I nearly trip over a loose cobblestone but manage to steady myself just in time.

"Hey!" a voice shouts, and I turn to see a small boy, mostly human but with a slightly feline nose. His appearance is both adorable and innocent, a stark contrast to the fantastical world around us.

"I'm so sorry, I got scared and didn't see you there," I apologize, leaning down to meet his eye level. "I guess I'm a bit lost." Only now do I realize how breathless I am. "Can you tell me which direction exits the town?" The boy, who couldn't be older than six, looks up at me with wide, curious eyes.

"Kilot," a voice calls, and an older man, dressed like a farmer, approaches us. His clothes are simple but well-made, with a sturdy hat shading his weathered face.

"Dad, this girl is lost," Kilot says, turning to me with a friendly smile.

"This town is a bit harder to navigate than most," the man explains, his voice warm and reassuring. "It was built on top of a much older city." Relieved by his friendliness, I return his smile .

"I'm actually looking to get out of the city. Could you point me in the right direction?" I admit, feeling as if my situation sounds almost like that of a fugitive. "I'm trying to get home," I add, hoping he understands my urgency.

"I can do one better." He grins, gesturing to a large wooden cart nearby, filled with supplies. "My son and I have collected what we need and will be heading back home ourselves. North-East, if you want to tag along for a short ride." The offer is music to my ears, the second-best news after waking up in my own bed.

"I'd be eternally grateful," I say, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. I help them load the last couple of crates onto the cart, noticing the odd glares from a nearby storefront. The shopkeeper's eyes linger on me, suspicion etched on his face, but I ignore it, focusing on my chance to escape this strange place.

After about twenty minutes, Chitel, the father, announces it's time to go home. He instructs his son and me to hop onto the cart where there's room. The cart is rustic but sturdy, its wooden planks creaking slightly under our weight. As I settle in, I take a moment to absorb the details around me – the worn leather reins, the gentle sway of the cart, and the fading light casting a golden hue over everything.

As we start moving, the rhythmic clatter of the cart's wheels on the cobblestones becomes a comforting sound. Kilot chatters excitedly about their farm, his small hands gesturing animatedly as he talks about the animals and the crops. Chitel occasionally chimes in, his deep voice adding to the stories and painting a vivid picture of their life.

For the first time since I arrived in this bewildering world, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I will find my way home.

As we journey on the cart, pulled by what I assume are donkeys, I observe and document the creatures in the book Corvu gave me. The familiarity of the surroundings, with stray cats and a real apple tree, gives me a semblance of comfort. Maybe this world isn't so odd; these creatures are merely acting according to their nature. Right?

Approaching gates near a great stone wall, the bustle softens. The forest beyond is vibrant, not amber as on the other side of the city but alive with shades of green, blue, and purple. Mesmerized, I try not to show too much amazement, mindful of standing out as a foreigner. The cart travels through the wondrous trees, and despite the path splitting in many directions, Chitel navigates confidently.

An hour into the journey, the donkeys slow, and suddenly, sharp pain courses through my leg. I gasp in shock, looking down to see Kilot's teeth sunk into my flesh. "Ow! What are you doing?" I cry out, trying to shake him off. Ignoring the surprised laughs of Chitel and Kilot, I yell again, "That really hurt!"

Chitel just chuckles. "Boys will be boys," he says dismissively, as if this were all just a game.

"Why did you do that?" I exclaim, trying to catch Kilot's eye, but he seems unfazed. "Why are you doing this?"

Chitel's expression hardens, and his voice takes on a menacing tone. "We don't take kindly to humans in places they don't belong," he says coldly. "You should have stayed in the city."

I'm not paying attention when Kilot throws a rock, hitting my forearm as I try to shield my face. The pain stings, and I can feel a bruise forming already.

"Please, stop!" I shout, my voice tinged with desperation. But their hostility remains, their faces twisted with an almost predatory glee. Chitel, who seemed so kind just an hour ago, watches with a cold detachment.

In a moment of desperation, I close my eyes and put up my hand, willing them to stop. Suddenly, a force I can't explain bursts from me, and Chitel and Kilot are sent flying into the trees, their screams echoing in the sudden silence.

Breathing heavily, I don't wait to see if they're okay. I run, my heart pounding in my chest, my legs pumping as fast as they can carry me. The forest blurs around me as I dash through the underbrush, branches whipping against my skin. The ground is uneven, but I barely notice as adrenaline propels me forward.

Finally, I stop to catch my breath, my heart still racing. I glance back, but there's no sign of Chitel or Kilot. The trees around me stand tall and silent, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. I collapse against a trunk, my body trembling with fear and exhaustion.

What just happened? How did I do that? The questions swirl in my mind, but there's no time for answers. I need to keep moving, to find a way out of this strange, dangerous place. Pushing myself up, I take a deep breath and start walking, my senses on high alert for any sign of danger. The forest seems to close in around me, the shadows deepening as the sun sinks lower in the sky. But I refuse to give up. I have to find my way home.

If I remember the map correctly, I'm somewhere around where Las Vegas should be. I rode on donkeys for a while, and then I ran in an unknown direction. How long does it take to walk across this continent?

I walk. And walk.

The forest seems endless, but I compel myself to keep moving. Somewhere must be safe from whatever dwells in the woods at night. As the sun sets, an astonishing sight unfolds. The forest becomes a sea of tiny fireflies, dancing as dusk blankets their homes. Despite the warmth, my feet ache, and the wound from the boy throbs with pain. I resist the urge to remove my boot; it might be challenging to put it back on.

I press on, lit by the enchanting glow of fireflies, ignoring my exhaustion. I need to find a clear area to rest, somewhere I can see my surroundings. Climbing trees crosses my mind, but the risk of falling and injuring myself deters me. Thirst consumes me, and I can almost hear the sound of running water. Soon, I realize it's not just in my imagination. Entranced, I head in that direction, possibly away from my intended path. At this moment, water takes precedence over finding my way home.

A few minutes later, I arrive at a lake. The water is crystal clear, revealing luminous fish swimming beneath the surface. The fish, like the fireflies, emit a beautiful ambient blue glow. The lake seems isolated and pristine, but I hesitate to drink. Is it safe? I've never been camping and don't know the first thing about survival. Looking up at the now visible night sky, I'm captivated by a million stars scattered across the universe. Never in my life in New York have I seen anything as beautiful.

I ponder whether this land, time, or realm holds a value that transcends anything I've known. I shift my attention back to my immediate concerns. The night's chill sets in, and I realize that boiling water might make it safe to drink. However, I have no means of starting a fire.

Accepting my fate, I cup my hands beneath the water's surface, finding it surprisingly relaxing. As I bring the water to my lips, ready to drink, a sudden voice startles me.

"Don't drink that!" Startled, I retract my hands quickly, splashing water in my face. To my left stands a boy, older than the last one I encountered. His light blonde curly hair doesn't quite hide his short pointed ears. Dressed in brown leathery garments with a bow strapped around him, he approaches swiftly, his eyes filled with urgency. The memory of my previous encounter sets me on edge, and I instinctively brace myself. "That's the Lake of Hushed Souls," he says. I blink at him, dumbfounded. His voice is cute, carrying an accent I can't quite place—maybe German. "You don't know what this is?" he asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

I shake my head. "No. Sorry." His eyebrows furrow, and his pink lips form a sad expression that tugs at my heart.

"Why do you look scared of me?" he inquires, his voice filled with genuine concern, surprising for a boy of about ten.

"I've had a long day," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Humans should stay in cities or travel together. Where are your friends?" he asks, his eyes wide with innocence.

Tears well up as I respond, my gaze fixed on the ground. "I don't have any." My knees ache from kneeling, so I sit down, feeling the rough ground beneath me. The boy touches my boot where Kilot bit me, his small hands gentle.

"I can be your friend," he offers, smiling warmly. Though sweet, I've learned that even children can be dangerous in this place.

"You seem really nice, but so did many others. And they all tried to hurt me," I explain, unsure if this child would understand the betrayal and fear I've experienced.

"Then I will help you." He sits down beside me, surprising me with his strength as he pulls my leg toward him. Cautiously, I lean back, ready to sprint away if needed. From a pouch, he produces a small bottle that glows green, similar to Patricia's. Without a word, he pours a drop between the tiny holes in my boot. I feel tingling, then stinging, and then nothing.

"You see, I fixed it," he says proudly, his smile radiant.

"You don't hate me?" I ask, perplexed by his kindness.

Tilting his head, he responds, "Why would I hate you?"

"I'm a human, and you're not," I reply, trying to make sense of his acceptance.

The boy smiles again. "Humans have never been mean to me. And they have never been mean to Pixies." So, the boy is a Pixie? I thought they were smaller and had wings. "Are you not from around here?" His Skivak, a little broken, makes me feel relieved. His interest isn't solely because I'm human.

"No," I begin, ", it's actually a long story."

"Well, I like long stories," he says, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "And I have plenty of time."

After teaching me the basics of building a fire, we settle down next to the warm glow of the flames. I begin to share my story with him, skimming over certain details like the amulet. However, the kid proves to be astute and quickly deduces the nature of the amulet; he'd heard numerous tales about it from the elders in his village.

"That amulet," he says, his eyes widening with recognition. "I've heard stories about it. The elders say it holds immense power, and in the wrong hands, it can be incredibly dangerous." He pauses, looking at me seriously. "If I ever possessed an amulet like that, I would take it to a Wizard. They know how to handle such powerful trinkets."

He enlightens me about Pixies, explaining that they typically start living independently at the age of ten due to their familiarity with forest life and their ability to sustain themselves using nature's provisions. As they age, some Pixies can grow wings, with bravery being a significant factor, though the exact reasons remain unknown. Unlike many creatures, Pixies, along with Elves, frequently collaborate with humans, largely avoiding the conflict initiated by humans against the Daemonaria.

Despite the day's challenges, I find a friend, who is willing to help me locate a Wizard. "A Wizard can guide you and keep that amulet safe," he says with conviction. It turns out that Pixies like him are crucial allies, and his knowledge and willingness to assist are invaluable.

"By the way, why do you find my name amusing?" He asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

I can't help but smile. "In my world, a gecko is a small, friendly lizard. It's just a funny coincidence."

Gecko grins back, still not entirely understanding, but appreciating the light-hearted moment. "Well, I suppose I'm small and friendly too, so maybe it fits."