Song of The Wisp

When I open my eyes, I'm standing in the forest once more. But it's not where I was before. This place is deeper. Darker. The trees here feel ancient—towering pillars of shadow wrapped in tangled moss. The air is thick with damp earth and the kind of silence that feels watched.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice small. "Is anyone there?"

No answer. Only the wind moving through the trees and the distant cawing of crows echoing above.

I stand still for a long moment, listening. Waiting. Hoping.

Taking a few steps forward, each step soft against moss and damp earth, my eyes scan for that flicker of blue I saw once before.

Then—there. Just beyond a wall of low brush, something glows.

A pale blue light, soft and pulsing, like a breath made visible.

I push through the branches, leaves brushing my arms, until I reach a clearing. The orb floats in the air, no higher than my chest—hovering just above the ground. It flickers gently, casting dappled blue light across the forest floor.

"Hello," I whisper, the word catching in my throat.

The orb brightens slightly in response—subtle, but deliberate.

My heart skips.

"Who... who are you?" I ask again, voice barely audible.

The orb doesn't speak, but it shimmers—a ripple of light passing through it, soft and warm. Almost like laughter.

Then, slowly, it drifts closer. Just a few inches. A pause.

It circles me once—light brushing over my skin like wind—before floating just ahead, pulsing brighter now, as if beckoning.

It doesn't speak. But it moves. Drifting forward, slow and graceful, trailing soft light in its wake.

I follow.

Step by step, through the clearing, through a hollow of trees and tangled roots. The forest is utterly silent now. Not even the wind stirs.

The light weaves through it all like a thread pulling me forward—pausing only to make sure I'm still behind.

Then, it slips through a narrow opening between two massive trunks, and suddenly—

I see it.

A great tree, ancient and wide, its bark silvered with age. And there—embedded in its trunk like something grown from the roots of time—is a mirror.

Golden vines curl across its surface. Tiny gemstones glint in the moonlight, arranged like stars in orbit. It shines softly, waiting. Familiar, though I've never seen it before.

I step into the clearing slowly, breath caught in my throat.

The light floats forward one last time. It hovers just in front of the mirror... then flickers once—bright, pulsing—and vanishes. Gone without a sound. Like it was never there at all.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, staring at the mirror bathed in moonlight.

Drawn to it, I reach out without thinking, gently brushing the cool surface with my fingertips. Something shifts. The image changes.

I stumble back, breath caught in my throat.

The reflection I expect to see is gone—tired eyes, pale skin, the same worn sweater.

Instead, staring back at me... is a young woman cloaked in light. She wears a gown of silver and pearls, delicate as starlight. Her long hair flows like spun moonlight, and upon her head rests a crown of silver vines. Regal. Radiant.