Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Everyone is here, just as Blue promised, but dressed so dramatically I have to look twice to recognize faces. Dame Gothel has come as some kind of nature goddess, her hair woven with living vines and her dress formed of leaves that seem to grow and morph as she moves. Dr. Finch is a mad scientist, complete with goggles and a coat covered in mysterious stains. Duffy has dressed as a forest sprite, which suits her auburn hair and mischievous grin perfectly.
Musicians play from platforms built into the trees themselves, their instruments creating melodies that sound like wind through leaves and water over stones. The music has no clear rhythm, but somehow everyone knows how to move to it, swaying and spinning in patterns that seem to come naturally.
“This is incredible,” I whisper to Blue as we make our way deeper into the celebration.
“Wait until you see the heart of it.”
We follow a path marked by mushrooms that glow brighter than the others, their light shifting from blue to purple to silver as we pass. Other costumed figures drift around us—a woman dressed as a raven, a man who appears to be made of bark and moss, someone in flowing robes that shimmer like water in the mushroom light.
The path opens into a clearing where the real magic happens.
The trees here form a perfect circle, their branches intertwining overhead to create a natural cathedral. In the center, a ring of massive mushrooms pulses with light so bright it’s almost blinding. The glow changes color, casting everyone in the clearing in shades of blue, purple, and silver that make them look like beings from another world.
People dance within the mushroom circle, their movements hypnotic and strange. Some dance alone, lost in the music and the lights. Others move in pairs or groups, their costumes blending together until it’s impossible to tell where one person ends and another begins.
“The Dryad’s Dance,” Blue says. “This is where the barrier between worlds is thinnest.”
As if to prove his point, the lights from the mushrooms suddenly flare brighter, and for just a moment, I swear I can see figures moving between the trees that aren’t wearing costumes at all. Tall, graceful shapes that seem to be made of moonlight and shadow, watching the human celebration with knowing eyes.
I blink, and they’re gone.
A figure approaches us, and it takes me a moment to recognize Elliott beneath his butterfly costume. His wings are enormous, iridescent things that seem to catch every color of light and throw it back transformed. His face is painted with intricate patterns that make his green eyes look otherworldly.
“Saylor! You look absolutely divine, my dear.” His compliment has that dreamy quality it always carries, but tonight it seems more appropriate somehow. “And Blue, perfect costume for you.”
“Elliott,” Blue nods. “How’s the party treating you?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful. Simply wonderful. The lights are speaking tonight, did you know? They’re telling stories about the time before time, when the trees were young and the world was wild.” Elliott’s painted face breaks into a smile. “Would you like to dance, Saylor? The mushrooms are calling for new partners.”
I glance at Blue, who gives me an almost imperceptible nod.
“I’d love to.”
Elliott takes my hand and leads me toward the ring of glowing mushrooms. The moment I step inside the circle, the world changes.
The music becomes something I can feel in my bones, a rhythm that matches the pulsing of the lights and the beating of my heart. Elliott moves with surprising grace for someone his age, spinning me through patterns that seem to write themselves in the air. Other dancers swirl around us—the raven woman, the bark man, figures in costumes so detailed I can’t tell what they’re supposed to represent.
The lights grow brighter, the music more intense, and there’s something shifting in the air around us. The boundary between performance and reality begins to blur, and for a few moments, I almost believe we really are dancing with creatures from another world.
Then Elliott spins me one final time and releases my hand, bowing low as the music shifts to something softer.
“Thank you for the dance, dear one,” he says, his painted face glowing in the mushroom light. “The Witchwood approves of you.”
As I make my way back to Blue, weaving between dancers and glowing fungi, I catch sight of something that makes me stop cold.
Ash Cupp stands at the edge of the clearing, and he’s not in costume. He’s wearing his usual cream linen shirt and dark pants, completely out of place among the theatrical disguises surrounding him. But it’s the look on his face that worries me—tense, alert, scanning the crowd with the focus of someone expecting trouble.
When he spots me looking, he makes his way over, moving through the costumed dancers with ease.
“Saylor,” he says when he reaches me. “I need you to find Blue. Now.”