Lachsea, Ausicaa

Even as wisps of smoke from the chimney beckoned to her, Brenna's feet remained firmly planted on the forested ground. Roshe pushed at her with his large furry head, nudging her from behind towards the hillside house, but she stayed frozen in place. Dread and uncertainty filled her to the brim. She didn't know what was real anymore.

After years of self-doubt and mounting skepticism from those around her, Brenna finally convinced herself that the fateful episode with Sorcha had merely been a fantastical apparition born from a childlike mind.

Now her beliefs were being called into question again. The house stood before her as solid and true as the rock and soil beneath her boots. She was fully awake. Not dreaming. The forest was brilliantly alive all around her. Sunlight streamed through cracks in the canopy of tree branches and leaves, and the tranquil sound of lake water lapped at the muddy banks beside her.

Was any of this real? Brenna was visibly trembling. She felt terrified. Terrified for the state of her sanity. Terrified of what she might find behind the moss-covered door. Had her memories of Sorcha been real all along?

Tucked and furrowed and folded into the darkest corners of her memory, Brenna still recalled the extraordinary encounter as clear as day, and she never forgave herself for failing to deliver the Book of Old back to the Witch of Sinea. Ever since her mother's funeral, Brenna often found herself lying awake late at night, wondering if this particular failure on her part was the reason why the gods chose to steal her mother's life away even after Herra's health started showing signs of improvement through the consumption of bierchae root tea. Brenna wanted to turn and run.

She wasn't ready to face her demons.

Right as she was about to flee, however, the door to the small shelter swung open. A wizened, blue-eyed crone shuffled through the doorway into the open forest. Her gait was slower and clumsier than before. She clutched a knotted wooden cane in her hand to aid with her faltering steps. Her wrinkled face appeared shrunken, older, and more tired than Brenna had remembered, but one thing remained unchanged. Warmth and wisdom radiated from her entire being. Tears pricked at Brenna's eyes. With great effort, she held them at bay.

In an unsteady whisper, she breathed, "Sorcha..."

The woman smiled at her serenely. "You have been through much since we last met, Brenna-girl."

Brenna couldn't hold back anymore. Wetness spilled down her cheeks. A strangled sob escaped her throat. These were the first tears she cried since her mother's passing.

"Oh, Sorcha! Am I going mad? Is it you? Truly? Where have you been? I looked and looked for you time and again, but I could never find you!"

"I have been here all along, Brenna-girl," Sorcha murmured. "It was you who failed to see me. There are realms within realms hidden between more realms in this forest. Ausicaa is a land rife with old magic and mystical power."

Brenna wept brokenly. Her tear-stained face was red with exertion. "I-I do not understand what you mean, Sorcha. How I wish I had been able to find you sooner! My mother is dead!"

Sorcha watched the weeping girl with a steady, sympathetic gaze. "It would not have made a difference, child. I am deeply sorry. Herra Catannach's fate was sealed by the gods. I saw it that day in her tea leaves."

Brenna's gray eyes grew round with horror. "What do you mean 'it would not have made a difference?' The bierchae root tea you showed me was working miracles for my mother!"

Sorcha nodded slowly in agreement. "You are correct in that the bierchae root was fulfilling its purpose. Your mother would have made a full recovery, but, alas, the wheels of destiny stop for no one. We mortals can only delay the inevitable through our tricks and cunning, but we cannot outrun fate. Your mother was fated to die. She escaped the tragedy of gray lung, so the gods found another way to take her from you."

Brenna's mouth dropped in disbelief. She wailed passionately, "You lie, Sorcha! You must lie! I do not know what gods you speak of, but, surely, no being in this realm or the next could ever be so cruel!"

"The sooner you accept that your mother's fate was never yours to command, the sooner you can begin to heal."

Sorcha's response was swift and merciless, but her tone didn't contain any malice. If anything, her words only hurt because they were true.

Sorrow coursed through Brenna's small body with the fury of seven seas. She sank to the grassy floor and shriveled up into a ball of misery. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sobbed and raged and mourned her loss. Roshe licked and nipped at her hands tenderly. Worry clouded his beastly blue eyes. The trees seemed to bend and sway towards her, as though drawn to her suffering, as though they, too, wished to mourn alongside her.

Sorcha stood by silently. Patiently. She waited for Brenna to unleash her grief and bitterness, to pour out every drop of horrid, wretched emotion that she had been caging inside her fragile frame for far too long. Sorcha's heart ached for the girl. She knew what it was like to lose a loved one. She understood the bone-crushing pain of having one's heart torn from the flesh. Seasons had changed. Centuries had passed. Yet, her feelings hadn't faded nor waned. Her heart had simply grown stronger. It learned to carry her burdens without falling apart.

And she intended to teach Brenna how to carry hers as well.

—-

Brenna didn't know how long she wept, but, when she looked up again, the sun had begun its descent into darkness.

Sorcha's voice floated through the shadows. "Come inside, Brenna-girl. The day grows dark. You must be weary. Let us eat and drink and rest. When your spirits have recovered, we shall talk, for I have much to tell you."

Roshe trailed after Sorcha into her hillside dwelling. Brenna hesitated for a moment before following suit. As night fell upon the Sinea Forest, the three of them ate salted and roasted manning fish from the lake. They drank corberry wine. They sat by the warm fire that burned within Sorcha's pot-bellied stove.

With a full belly and a heavy heart, Brenna turned her eyes to Sorcha. "Did you say that you had something you wished to tell me?"

Sorcha clucked softly. "Such an impatient child. You do not want to wait until tomorrow morn to have this conversation?"

Brenna shook her head violently. "This cannot wait. I must know now. I have never felt so lost or defeated before in my life, Sorcha. Perhaps your words will give me some much needed direction."

"Very well then, Brenna-girl," Sorcha replied gently. "Let us begin with the most pressing matter at hand..."