Treeville was way bigger than I thought it would be. And there was a lot more than just wooden fountains and workshops when the hooded figure stepped in.

I had alleged that they just had all that wood stuff to make the outside world, the onlookers, and the passerby think they were just another poor, rundown village, and nothing more.

But in actuality, this had to be the richest town in all the lands, besides the Hark Village of course. It had beautiful steel fountains sprouting pretty waters and the shops were more than just common woodworks, but different-colored market stands, each holding special items that defined their appearance. Everything from head to toe was decked out in some special crystal attire, though, making Treeville look brighter than it had before.

It looked like one big, sparkly light just dazzling all about when you stepped over the invisible line of grass, and onto the stone bricks, which were polished and appeared much nicer than their dirty look from behind the grass.

Everything about this village seemed to be perfect. Well, everything but the burnt-down, abandoned cottage just feet away from the winsome town with personable villagers. This might have been the Airlands, had it not been on the grounds of the Earthlands, instead of in the fluffy clouds just floating above, and had it not had that rather ugly-looking small house beside it.

"Welcome to the Village of the Trees," said the hooded figure carrying me. "I'm sure you'll feel right at home."

He plopped me on the clean bricks and said, "Wait here. I'll be back with Con. He should be able to help you."

"Okay," I said, because arguing against the guy that could destroy monsters with mere light—wait... I could do that... How could I forget?! I had an Element! I didn't even think to use it against the monster, hell, I was so dumb! How ignorant of me!

The figure walked away toward the old, blackened cottage. I guess that's where this "Con" guy lived. I waited a while, admiring the scenic town in all its glory. I had even began to notice things that weren't there before.

There were tons of fairies flying overhead the village, their wings glowing in the blue-and-white sky. They were all different colors: pink, blue, red, orange. Some of the other residents had begun to dote on these majestic creatures along with me.

Suddenly, I remembered a healing notion that Peter had taught me about in the Light spell book.

"Healen," my trainer had explained, "is the way of curing. It can fix anything: a broken knee, arm, leg, head. Anything. Just press your palms upon the broken area and say the word, 'Healen', and what is broken shall be fixed."

I looked down at my ankle. Even the sight of its twisted position made me cringe. Cautious and slow, I placed both of my hands on it and pressed down.

"Healen."

Light seemed to absorb the brokenness of it, and it began to take the insidious pain away. It was all better now, thankfully.

I tried to stand up, though, but both of my legs were still weak and jellylike. I decided to take it slow and so I crawled over to a fountain and used its metal rim to stand up. I sat on the edge and sighed relievedly. I wasn't dead, thankfully.

Though I was scared half to death when a girl jumped right in front of me and said, "Boo!"

I screamed like a young lady, which caused her to laugh at me.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

The girl didn't answer me until she had stopped chortling at me and my squeaky squeal.

"I'm Willow," she said gleefully. "And who are you, Broken Ankle?"

She laughed at her own joke to the point that she started crying tears of hilarity. My first impression of this girl was that she was once a jester for a king that was so bad at quips, she was thrown out of the palace. Just a hunch, though.

"I'm Dylan," I said annoyedly. "Dylan Castro."

"Dylan Castro... That sounds rather familiar." The girl said thoughtfully, then went back to her jokes. "You're still Broken Ankle to me."

She snorted at these words, but I just rolled my eyes.

"So, what brings you to Treeville?" She asked, gesturing at the glamorous town.

"Fate," I said.

"Uh, you're one of those people. I believe in fate, I believe in destiny," she said, the last sentence more mockingly than the first. "People like you are silly."

"I'm not silly!" I said, pointing at her shoes. "Your footwear is silly!"

She looked affronted at this, and so she put her hands on her hips and thought of something as a retort.

"You're—"

She was stopped by the clearing of someone's throat... and then coughing. She jumped up in surprise and whipped around. There stood the hooded figure, an old man standing next to him with a shriveled and distorted face.

"Father!" said Willow, a frightened look on her face. "Greetings!"

"Toying with the Chosen One, I see..." the elderly man had a pipe in his mouth, puffing smoke out of it, making it hard to see his already-contorted face.

He and the figure approached me, passing Willow by as she had her mouth hung wide open. He lent out a wrinkly hand to me from one of the dirty, raggedy long sleeves of his mucky robe.

"It is nice to finally meet you."

I put out a hand as well and shook his, saying, "Nice to meet you, too."

The man smiled a nearly-toothless, ugly smile, taking out his pipe so the smoke could go away and he could truly admire my look and air.

"Interesting..." said the man in a heavy Russian accent that his daughter clearly did not inherit. "Very interesting..."

"I told you, sir," the hooded figure stepped out to where me and the man were standing directly across from each other, our noses nearly touching. "He is merely a boy."

"Age does not define a person," the man squinted his eyes as though to get a better view of my face and physique. "Wisdom does. This is a man, Sydon. A wise, powerful man."

My eyes got a better view of the man's face as well as the smoke eventually cleared out. He had scars written all over his appearance and shape, as though they were carved into his face purposefully. One of his eyes wasn't there, but had a little gray eye-patch on it, and his other eye was the same color, matching with its missing component. He had no hair except for one strip of dirty blonde, which was hardly noticeable. The man himself was tall, or just as tall as me, and very thin. I would've thought he were a stick; for his outfit, which was long and dark brown, fit the look as did his weight.

He took one last stare at me before turning to his daughter and saying, "Show him around Treeville, if you will."

Willow nodded and took me by the arm aggressively.

"Is that Con?" I asked her as soon as we were out of earshot from the old man and the hooded figure.

"Yep," said Willow. "He's also the mayor of the village, and my father."

I hadn't noticed it, but Willow herself had pretty features, which I assumed came from her mother: she had sparkly blue eyes and golden blonde hair, with heart-shaped lips, and a little nose. Her hair flowed down to her upper back, straight and graceful.

•••

She'd shown me every aspect—every nook and cranny—that there was to know about the Village of the Trees.

She told me that the fountains were imported from the Waterlands, and that the village had traded them in exchange a supply of their famous and well-known Golden Tree.

That's right. Treeville had a golden tree, which supplied golden wood. If that wasn't the coolest thing about this village, the fact that the burnt cottage had been standing for more than a millennium now was even more extraordinary.

"My father resides there because all his ancestors, the past mayors of Treeville, lived there, too. It's sort of a tradition, and my father's carried out that legacy."

I found this interesting and felt apologetic for having judged the cottage before.

"Oh, and here's the houses," she gestured down a little slope. Aligned perfectly with each other were golden houses, everything from roofs and picket fences to grass and windows were gold. Everything.

It was a little overwhelming, staring at all the rich-looking homes. I was actually surprised when Willow told me they had regular-colored furniture, and that it was just the house and outside look that was golden. If that wasn't at least a little astounding, I didn't know what was.

"And lastly," Willow had taken me to the market stands, "our mart."

I stared at all the crystal-decorated stalls, each with beautiful handmade signs that explained what the shops were.

There was golden firewood, diamond decor, and ruby supplies such as torches and swords. It looked like one big rainbow market, sparkly colors decked out in each area and aspect that there was to be in this mart. And I loved and admired every last droplet of it.

•••

The tour had come to an end, and by then, the sun had begun to set. Streaks of pink and yellow flowed through the sky endlessly—and beautifully—without effort or attempt. I was content with the way the day had turned out. It went from bad to good, thankfully.

"Where's Squeak?" I asked Willow as walked back to the fountains area.

"Who's that?" She asked.

"A... pet."

"Oh. I don't know. There was no pets that came through here."

My heart tumbled. I wanted to cry... Squeak had... No. he was just lost in the forest... right? He had to be.

"Oh." I said, hiding my despondency.

"So..." Willow sat on the rim of one of the fountains, and I followed her.

"So..." I said.

"What now?"

"I don't know."

"Me either."

"Huh."

"You still have your quest, don't you, Chosen One?"

I nodded.

"I think I'll stay here for a day or so, just to get my spirits back up and replenish my health," I responded.

"That's understandable," she got up from the fountain and began crossing over to the burnt down cottage. "I have to go home. See you tomorrow, then?"

I nodded again and she skipped back to her otherworldly house.

My first day in Treeville had been... somewhat successful. At least I hadn't been trampled by a beast, right?

I sighed, got up from the edge of the fountain, and crossed to Mayor Con.

"Where can I stay?" I asked.

"I'm delighted that you asked that," said the Mayor. "You will be slumbering at the Golden Tree."