Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Dar did not hesitate. “To save my wife… to Driochmor.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Driochmor
The Forbidden Land
* * *
Dar rode without pause, Elara cradled against him, her weight light in his arms and unbearably heavy in his heart. That he could lose her was not an option he was willing to accept. So, he defied the king’s orders and crossed the boundary into the forbidden land, a place where sorcery ruled, in hopes his wife could be saved.
The forest closed around them as if drawing a breath. Branches knit overhead, shutting out the last threads of daylight. The air grew damp and chilly, carrying the deep scent of rich earth. This was no longer a road meant for men, and he had no idea what he might come across as he traveled deeper along it.
He tightened his hold on her.
You belong here, he thought—not as a plea, but a truth he had come to know. Elara had always belonged to the forest. She listened to it. Understood it. Where others saw wild growth, she saw purpose. Where men claimed dominion, she showed respect.
If there was mercy in this world, it would be found here.
“Help her,” he said aloud, his voice low, roughened by fear. “You know her. She has walked among you with care. She has never taken without giving.”
His horse slowed.
Dar felt it before he saw it—a subtle shift, as if the ground itself had heard and responded. His mount veered from the faint trail he had followed, turning without command onto a narrower path, nearly invisible beneath creeping roots and shadow.
Dar did not resist.
Around him, the forest continued to thicken. Trunks grew closer, bark darkened, twisted. The light dimmed to a green hush, pierced only by pale glimmers that might have been fireflies—or something else entirely. The air hummed, alive in a way he had never known.
“Fae folk,” he whispered, no challenge in it now. “If you hear me… I ask nothing for myself… only that you save her.”
The horse picked its way forward with care, sure-footed, as if guided by something unseen. Ferns brushed Dar’s boots. Leaves whispered against his shoulders. Somewhere deeper within the trees, he thought he heard a voice.
His eyes narrowed as he strained to listen, but he heard nothing. It did not discourage him. After all he was on a hunt, and Hunters always got their prey.
Dar lowered his head to Elara’s brow and murmured, “Hold on. I am taking you where you can be saved.”
He held her firmly against him, her weight resting fully in his arms as he did his best not to jostle her, fearful he’d cause her pain or worse—hasten death. He made no move toward his weapons, his dagger remaining sheathed at his waist and his sword strapped in place. Any who watched would see it plainly—he rode as a man seeking passage, not conquest.
Dar allowed the horse to rein, trusting the animal’s instincts where his own could not guide him.
Elara had always spoken of the forest as if it were more than soil and wood, as if it listened. Now, with her breath shallow against his chest and her blood warming his cloak, he believed it.
Dar raised his chin and called out, “She belongs to the forest.” His tone turned defiant. “And she belongs to me.” He finally softened his voice, but it held a command. “Help us.”
The air changed. It thickened, not with damp or mist, but with something sharper, brighter—like light held too long behind closed eyes. Then a streak of blue tore through the trees.
Dar’s breath caught as it rushed toward him, fast as an arrow—and stopped inches from his face.
The glow gathered, shaped itself, and a small figure hovered before him, wings trembling, light pulsing softly around her.
Amelia.
He knew at once it was her, the fairy. Elara had told him about.
“Amelia,” he said, to confirm it.
“No time,” she said urgently. “Follow me.”
Before he could question her, she darted away, the blue light streaking between the trees.
Dar did not hesitate.
His horse snorted once, then turned sharply of its own accord and followed the fairy.
The trees thinned some and he was relieved to catch the scent of wood smoke. That meant they were not far from a village—from help.
Amelia’s light ahead slowed.
His horse followed suit, slowing as the forest opened.
Before him lay a village—but not one built by men.
Stone cottages rose from the earth as if grown rather than built. Unfamiliar symbols were etched in the stones around the window and door, they glimmered when sunlight touched them. Roofs were branches so thick with leaves that nothing could penetrate them. Paths wound between dwellings without straight lines or sharp corners, following the land’s natural shape.
Water ran openly through the village in narrow channels, glowing faintly. Where it flowed, plants bloomed alongside and flowers shifted color as he watched. And vines leaned toward him like curious creatures as he passed by.