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Once upon a time, there was a tree that grew in the middle of a great, deep, and dark forest. Many creatures were rumored to live in the forest, such as creepy crawlies of all sorts, magical beings, and ghostly stags. And the tree in the center was said to be the source of all magical power in the kingdom, though most believed it to be nothing but a legend—a story told to children who wanted to know where magic came from; a tale lazy old husbands told while smoking their pipes down by the docks; a rumor whispered by conmen and grifters in back alleys and dive bars selling maps or talismans purported to lead to it.
It was rare to find a person who actually believed in the tree, or even magic, for that matter. Oh sure, magic used to exist. But with the development of more complex tools powered by steam and the sun, magic had become a thing of the past. Most suggested that magic was nothing more than misunderstood science.
Eloita, however, believed.
Her grandmother had always left out milk for the fairies and hung iron over their door to keep away evil spirits. Her mother, it was said, had been “taken” by the woods. And Eloita herself, having grown up in a small village on the edge of the Twilight Wood, had seen many things in her life, though what exactly those things were, she couldn’t explain. Other than magic.
She’d seen glittering lights in purple and gold flickering deep in the undergrowth, screaming faces formed from mist, and stone carved in shapes that couldn’t be explained by natural causes. And though Eloita had never once stepped foot in the forest, she knew that something was in there. And she believed that that something was magic.
At a young age, she learned not to speak of it when she was teased by the other children for believing in the magic. So she kept her head down and her mouth shut, and focused on the things she loved—painting, planting, and protecting—all with the magical forest as the backdrop for her life.
When she turned eighteen, she left home for the first time, headed to the Royal Guard Academy, a prodigious institution which trained people in the finer arts of fighting, war, and strategy. She quickly impressed her teachers, and moved up through the ranks, graduating at the early age of 21. She was then assigned to the home of an earl, and spent her days guarding his wife, the countess.
She became a trusted face in their household, but was surprised when one day, the earl announced the household would take a trip to her home village. She was, of course, ordered to come.
The trip was planned and organized by the countess, and the royal household showed up in the small village the day after Eloita’s thirtieth birthday. Her elderly grandmother was there to meet her, but Eloita did not stay with her own family; instead, the earl set up shop in an old mansion owned by the crown, which had not been used in a very long time.
“You must be careful,” her grandmother whispered to Eloita in the few minutes they had to greet one another. “The house belongs to the Wood.”
“What shall I do, grandmother?” Eloita asked.
Her grandmother handed her a bracelet made of hand-carved beads painted red like rowan berries and threaded with silver wire. “Wear this. And beware the whispers of souls.”
And then Eloita was called away to help the earl and the countess move into the house.
Countess Grace was a quiet and rather mousy woman who was perpetually fixated on having dinner parties. Eloita didn’t dislike her, per se, but she did find her rather boring. The earl, on the other hand, hated dinner parties, and preferred to spend all of his time working on the book he was writing, which was an analysis of old legends of the kingdom—one of which, presumably, including information about the Rowan House.
Eloita had often heard tales of this house growing up, but she didn’t know what had originally happened; only that a previous prince in an earlier generation had come to stay and mysteriously vanished. Then the house was closed up, and no one had ever returned. Until now. The other servants in the household whispered that the prince himself had requested the earl and countess move to this house. They said that he wanted it fixed up, to be used as a vacation spot for the royal family. It was rural, so they presumed it would be good for hunting. And it was the only crown-owned property this close to the Twilight Wood.
It was a beautiful old brick building with a great arched door in the front, and at least ten chimneys that Eloita could count. Finely crafted bargeboards ran along the edges of the roof and attic gables. Elegant pilasters adorned the walls between the windows, each of which featured brightly colored munchins. To Eloita’s mind, the house still looked to be in excellent condition up close, not the dilapidated mess she had assumed they would find.
The indoors was dusty, of course, but the wide oak staircase soon gleamed with a fresh coat of oil, and the carpets added colorful brightness and charm once the dust had been beaten out of them. No part of the house seemed any the worse for wear, and so the earl and the countess moved in that same day.
There was one room, however, that was locked, and no matter where they looked, they could not find a key. Carpenters came and attempted to remove the hinges and lock of the door, but even the biggest and strongest saws and hammers didn’t even make a scratch, and the door remained sealed shut.
But the earl determined that it little mattered, and sent word to the royal family that the house was in excellent condition and could be visited any time.
And although Eloita knew the project had been the prince’s idea right along, she was shocked when he sent word informing the earl that he would arrive in only three days to view the property. Eloita, the other guards, and the servants were informed as a matter of course, and the house busied itself readying for the first member of the royal family to visit the premises in over a hundred years.
To everyone’s surprise, the prince showed up unescorted, riding a rather out-of-breath horse.
“My father didn’t really want me to come,” he explained to the earl with a shrug, “but I’ve been curious about this old place my whole life. I couldn’t resist!”
The prince was led to his suite of rooms, and then to her surprise, Eloita was summoned by the earl.
“We cannot have a member of the royal family wandering around with no guard,” the earl told her. “I cannot spare my man, and I’ll be honest with you Eloita, you are our most competent guard. So, while I’d rather you continued working for my wife, I am assigning you to the prince for the duration of his stay.”
“As you wish,” Eloita replied with a bow.
She was introduced to Prince Theo, who was not happy about having a guard.
“I can take care of myself,” he argued with the earl.
“I have no doubt, sir,” the earl replied, “but you must understand the position this puts myself in with your father. What if something were to happen to you? At least if you had a guard who died with you, I could say that I did everything in my power to protect you.”
The prince scowled, but nodded politely at Eloita. “I hope you can ride,” he said. “I have some exploring I want to do.”
“As you command,” Eloita replied.
Despite his proclamation, for the first two days of his visit, the prince didn’t really leave his rooms, preoccupied by some books he had found in the old library. But on the third day, he sent word that she should wear riding gear.
He greeted her with barely a nod and then galloped off toward the Twilight Wood. Eloita nervously checked for her rowan-and-silver bracelet and then followed. She was relieved when he paused at the outskirts of the great wood, and then simply followed along the edge. After several hours of silence, he paused and looked back at her.
“Do you think it’s strange that the edge of the Twilight Wood is so... defined?” He gestured toward where the trees stood straight with the thick undergrowth below, which made a wall of trees that wrapped all the way around the forest.
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” Eloita replied politely, though that was untrue. This fact about the forest had bothered her for as long as she could remember. Why did it stop so abruptly? Why not extend further outward? What was the difference between the forest and the land surrounding it?
The prince gave her a skeptical look from where he sat atop his great stallion. “The earl told me you grew up in these parts.”
“That’s true, sir,” she replied.
“And yet you’ve never thought about it?”
“We are discouraged from thinking about it, sir,” she replied. “When you grow up so close to the forest, you must learn to ignore it above all else.”
“Or what?” He frowned.
“Or...” She shrugged. “Children tease, teachers scold, parents punish.”
“Ah hah!” he exclaimed with a triumphant smile. “So you have thought about it!”
“I suppose, sir,” Eloita admitted. “But I never speak of it.”
“Tell me, guard,” he asked. “Do you believe in the magic tree of legend? That is said to grow in the center of the forest?”
“I... would rather not say,” Eloita replied hesitantly.
“I promise not to tell,” he said. “And I’m your prince, so you can trust me.”
She didn’t know if she could trust him, but if he commanded her to, she’d have to tell him anyway.
“I suppose then, yes, I believe in the tree,” she replied.
“Why?” he pressed, guiding his horse closer to hers, eyes fixed on her face. “Most people don’t. Most people say it is naught but a fairy tale.”
“I...” She glanced at the woods, suddenly concerned that they might be listening, and that if they were, she wasn’t sure she wanted them to hear. “Would you mind if we talked about this somewhere else?”
“Why... are you afraid the forest might—?” but he broke off as if he suddenly thought her request might be reasonable after all. “Let’s go back to the house,” he suggested instead.
“No!” she exclaimed. Not the house. The forest could hear them there, too. “Perhaps... would you like to meet my grandmother?”
He looked at her for just a moment, and then, with no more questions, simply said, “Lead the way.”
The prince and his guard rode into town. Eloita knocked on her grandmother’s door and led the prince inside. The prince filled her grandmother’s small cottage in a way few people in Eloita’s life had. It wasn’t just that he was tall, but it was like no matter where in the house she stood, she could see and feel exactly where he was. Her grandmother welcomed them kindly, bustling about and making tea for the prince, ever so tickled to be hosting royalty in her humble cottage.
“Will you answer my question now?” the prince asked once Eloita’s grandmother had him settled.
“I’ve seen things,” Eloita replied. “Flickering lights, faces in the mist, strange stones carved in unnatural shapes.”
“You’re interested in the forest, your highness?” her grandmother asked. “’tis a dangerous place.”
“Perhaps,” the prince replied. “You believe in the magic too?”
“I put milk out for the fairies, iron over the door, and protection cairns ‘round my garden, if that’s what you mean.”
“Why do you believe,” the prince asked, “and no one else does?”
“My grandfather was there the day the forest took the house,” Grandmother replied. “And no one’ll tell me it didn’t happen.”
“The house?” the prince asked. “The royal house?” He glanced at Eloita. “That’s why you didn’t want to speak there?”
“The house belongs to the Twilight Wood,” Eloita replied.
“Do you know what happened that day?” Prince Theo asked Grandmother.
“’twas a terrible tragedy,” Grandmother said. “A royal prince, such as yourself, wanted to harvest the power of the great tree. But his greed warped his soul and then consumed him. As far as we can tell, he created a spell to tap into the tree and draw that power into himself; in doing so, he invited the power of the forest into the house, and the house became one with the forest and consumed him. And then, it closed its borders and retracted all its power back into the forest, to prevent such evil from ever breaching its borders again.”
“And do you think it’s possible to fix it?” the prince asked.
Grandmother gave a small smile. “I suppose if someone were motivated enough.”
“And how would one go about doing that?” the prince pressed.
Grandmother said politely, “I suppose an apology might go a long way.”
“I see.” The prince didn’t look satisfied with the answer, but he thanked Eloita’s grandmother, and then took his leave, Eloita following only a short distance behind.
The next few days, the prince remained locked away in the study reading books, filling his mind with as much information about the Twilight Wood as possible, while the earl and the countess wondered about what the prince could possibly be doing in there. Then, on the fourth day, he emerged.
“Eloita,” he announced, “I would like you to take me to the room with the locked door.”
Eloita knew where it was located, but had made every effort to avoid it. “Are you certain you wish to go there, sir?” She had a bad feeling about it and preferred to not to go anywhere near it if at all possible.
“Yes,” he stated calmly, “I am certain.”
With trepidation, she guided him through the corridors of the mansion until they reached the basement of the east wing, where the door sat at the bottom of a set of stairs.
It wasn’t anything impressive to look at: an oaken door with metal hinges, not new but not old, with hardly any wear and tear. Even the efforts the servants had made to open the door hadn’t seemed to cause any damage to it, only the walls around it.
The prince pulled a single wooden key from his pocket.
“You mustn’t—” Eloita exclaimed, but it was too late. The door swung open.
Out poured mist, and in the mist, faces—weeping, scowling, screaming, howling—every face a different agony. The prince, overcome by emotion, reached out his hands and stepped forward, one foot after the other.
“No, my prince!” Eloita grabbed him by the arms, but he continued to pull against her with all his might—and he was quite strong.
With no thought for her own safety, Eloita pulled the rowan-and-silver bracelet from her wrist, and wrapped it around his. Almost at once, he halted, gasped, and stumbled back. But Eloita was now consumed by a deep, internal longing, a sorrow, a melancholic loneliness that vibrated within her. She could no more step away from the mist than she could stop breathing.
And she stepped through the door.
It slammed shut behind her.
The prince wailed and pounded against the door, but his key was gone, and so was his guard.
Returning to his study, the prince delved into the books he had collected and brought with him, as well as the ones he had found at the house. He examined the rowan bracelet Eloise had protected him with. And replayed her grandmother’s words over and over in his mind: “An apology would be a good place to start.”
But what kind of apology? What would he say? And to whom?
After three days, he ventured back into the basement, but Eloita had not returned, nor was there any sign of her. Getting down on one knee, he whispered: “Oh Eloita, I am so sorry for bringing you into this. Great door, I’m so sorry for not heeding the warnings in my books. Twilight Forest, please forgive me and my ancestors for our disrespect, greed, and hubris.”
But nothing happened.
So he went to the stable, got his horse, and rode to Eloita’s grandmother’s house.
“Dearest Grandmother,” he exclaimed, “I am so sorry for putting Eloita in harm’s way, and for all I and my ancestors did to harm the Twilight Forest. Please forgive us for our disrespect, greed, and hubris.”
“It is not me you must apologize to,” Grandmother scolded, tears forming in her eyes in concern for the fate of her granddaughter.
Then, Prince Theo rode to the edge of the forest, where he had first spoken with Eloita. He dismounted from his horse and kneeled at the edge of the Twilight Woods, reaching out to place one hand on a great oak that towered over him.
“Great Forest,” he exclaimed, “please forgive the disrespect, greed, and hubris of myself and my ancestors. I mourn Eloita, and if possible, I beg for her safe return. I would give anything to find her once more.”
To his surprise, a path opened up in the trees before him. The trees bent and swayed, as if they were moving to one side. With little thought for his horse, Prince Theo took a deep breath and strode into the trees.
In moments, he could no longer see even a glimpse of the meadow he’d left behind him. The sky overhead seemed to darken, and the shadows in the forest around him deepened. But he kept his eyes forward and thoughts fixed on Eloita. He couldn’t change what his ancestors had done, but perhaps he could still rescue the young woman who had so bravely stepped in harm’s way in order to protect him.
Once, his eyes flicked to the side, and he saw glittering lights of purple and blue, but he ignored them and forged ahead. Then he passed a great stone in the shape of an arch just off the path to his left, but remained focused on his task and passed on by. Then he saw mist begin to form, and though his stomach clenched at the thought of them sucking him in as they had done to Eloita, he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, forcing himself to remain intent on the task that lay before him.
Though he was the first royal person in the forest in generations and he knew there would be many things of interest within the trees, such as creepy crawlies, magical beings, and ghostly stags, he knew those were not his concern. He must save his guard, rescue her from the clutches of the Twilight Wood.
It seemed like his trek lasted an eternity, and when he finally slowed somewhat to catch his breath, he found he was sweating profusely and weary from hunger and thirst. But he didn’t stop until he stumbled out into a great clearing. Around him stretched a grassy meadow filled with all manner of colorful flowers. The sun shone overhead, though it had been dark and cloudy in the forest. In the center of the meadow rose a tree, which towered far higher than even those great oaks in the wood; its branches reached out in every direction, like a beautiful branched dome.
“Oh, great tree,” the prince whispered, stumbling forward. “What must I do to save my dear Eloita?”
As he neared the trunk of the tree that was nearly as wide around as Eloita’s grandmother’s cottage, he saw Eloita’s prone form lying within its dappled shade.
“Eloita,” he exclaimed, kneeling beside her. “I am so sorry for what I have done for you!” He wept, and then cried out to the tree, “What must I do to save her?”
But the tree gave no answer. Because trees do not talk.
He sat in the dappled shade of the tree, clasping her hand, and his eyes fell on the bracelet on his own wrist—the one she had placed there. Taking a deep breath, he pulled it off and slid it back on to hers, where it belonged. Then he waited anxiously, wondering if the faces in the mist would come for him, whisk him away to wherever they’d taken Eloita’s mind, and his ancestors’ too, most likely.
But the meadow remained peaceful, but for the chirping of birds and chattering of squirrels. And then a small voice whispered, “Prince Theo? Where am I?”
“Eloita!” he exclaimed with eyes wide. “You have awakened! We are in the Twilight Wood, sitting beneath the branches of the great tree.”
“Did you apologize?” she asked, sitting up slowly, the light gently caressing her soft features.
“I did,” he said, “and it opened up a path which led me to you. I fear, however, that I am not long for this world. I knew I must return the bracelet, for it is what you used to protect me from the faces in the mist.”
Eloita glanced down at her wrist. “Nothing will hurt us here,” she said, somehow perfectly assured this was the truth. “But you cannot return through the forest. Not unless...”
She looked up at the great tree.
“Might I have a bit of branch?” she asked quietly, and as if as magic—which it most definitely was—several small, lithe sprigs fell from above. She carefully stripped off the bark, and then searched the ground for the small, round nuts of the tree. She then braided the sprigs together around the nuts, created a beautiful, if rather lumpy, bracelet for the prince.
“This will protect you,” she explained, slipping it onto his arm.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he replied. “I put you in harm’s way; I would have deserved whatever fate befell me in the forest.”
“No one deserves that,” Eloita replied. “Besides, you came back for me. But now, there is one last thing you must do.” She led him around the far side of the tree to the edge of the Twilight Wood, and there, in the shadows, was a single face in the midst.
To Prince Theo’s surprise, it looked a bit like him.
“This is the lost soul of your ancestor,” she said. “You must condemn what he did and release his spirit from the wood.”
“Prince Balor,” the prince said, for he knew exactly which of his ancestors had angered the Twilight Wood. “I condemn your actions. The Twilight Wood is sacred, not to be harvested for profit, power, or personal gain. I reject the actions of my ancestors, and vow to do everything within my power to make amends for the damage he has caused, and lead our people and our kingdom into a better future.”
The face in the mist screamed soundlessly, and then vanished into the shadows, never to be seen again.
Then, the Twilight Wood opened up a new path for Prince Theo and Eloita to walk down, which released them from the wood right into Grandmother’s back yard. Eloita’s grandmother hugged them both and brought them in for a cup of tea.
They returned to the mansion later that afternoon to find the earl and the countess in a tizzy, wondering what had happened to the prince. His horse had returned to the stable without him. The prince reassured them that all was well, and then took Eloita down to the basement to the locked room.
This time the handle opened under his touch, and when they stepped in, they found nothing but a rather mundane workroom with a few chalk scratchings barely visible on the floor.
And though they did not yet know it, magic had already begun to slowly seep back into the world. The tree had forgiven them, at least for now.