The Whimsywood Chronicles – Chapter 7
Interlude: A Page Beneath the Water
The Librarian traced a fingertip over a blue-silver ribbon pressed between the next pages, its surface cool as morning dew. “Ah… the River,” they murmured, their voice laced with awe. “Few reach it. Fewer return the same.”
Books fell silent. Even the candles flickered low, their flames shrinking in quiet reverence.
“The River of Echoes holds all that was, and all that could have been. It listens… and it remembers.”
The Librarian opened the book once more, and the air turned still, heavy with the scent of starlight and secrets long submerged.
Chapter 7: The River of Echoes
Beyond the glade, the newly revealed path wound through towering ferns and arching branches woven into tunnels of light. Lumeris followed it, the Moondrop Fern’s glow pulsing softly in its grasp. Soon, the whispering trees gave way to a vast, flowing river – the River of Echoes.
The river shimmered, not with water, but with liquid starlight. Its surface rippled with images of the past, reflections of moments that had long faded from memory. As Lumeris stepped closer, it saw visions of Whimsywood as it had once been – flourishing, untouched by shadow. But then came flashes of change: trees wilting, the glow of fireflies dimming, and a darkness creeping along the edges of the forest.
A sudden splash disturbed the visions. From beneath the shimmering surface, a creature emerged – Mirrowen, the Riverkeeper. Its long, flowing form was translucent, shifting between water and mist, its many eyes glimmering like captured stars.
“Who dares step upon the banks of time?” Mirrowen’s voice rippled, as though echoing across centuries.
Lumeris stood tall. “I am Lumeris, called back by the forest. I seek the lost wisdom of Whimsywood to restore its light.”
Mirrowen studied Lumeris, its flowing form circling the lumiblink like the river’s current. “The past is a fragile thing. To look upon it is to risk being lost within it. Do you have the strength to face the truth?”
Lumeris took a deep breath, feeling the glow of the Moondrop Fern steady its resolve. “I am ready.”
The Riverkeeper nodded. “Then step forward and see what must be seen.”
As Lumeris touched the surface of the river, the echoes of time swirled around it, pulling it into a vision so powerful it felt as if the stars themselves had opened their eyes.
Beyond the glade, the newly revealed path wound through towering ferns and arching branches woven into tunnels of light. Lumeris followed it, the Moondrop Fern’s glow pulsing softly in its grasp. Soon, the whispering trees gave way to a vast, flowing river – the River of Echoes.
The river shimmered, not with water, but with liquid starlight. Its surface rippled with images of the past, reflections of moments that had long faded from memory. As Lumeris stepped closer, it saw visions of Whimsywood as it had once been – flourishing, untouched by shadow. But then came flashes of change: trees wilting, the glow of fireflies dimming, and a darkness creeping along the edges of the forest.
A sudden splash disturbed the visions. From beneath the shimmering surface, a creature emerged – Mirrowen, the Riverkeeper. Its long, flowing form was translucent, shifting between water and mist, its many eyes glimmering like captured stars.
“Who dares step upon the banks of time?” Mirrowen’s voice rippled, as though echoing across centuries.
Lumeris stood tall. “I am Lumeris, called back by the forest. I seek the lost wisdom of Whimsywood to restore its light.”
Mirrowen studied Lumeris, its flowing form circling the lumiblink like the river’s current. “The past is a fragile thing. To look upon it is to risk being lost within it. Do you have the strength to face the truth?”
Lumeris took a deep breath, feeling the glow of the Moondrop Fern steady its resolve. “I am ready.”
The Riverkeeper nodded. “Then step forward and see what must be seen.”
As Lumeris touched the surface of the river, the echoes of time swirled around it, pulling it into a vision so powerful it felt as if the stars themselves had opened their eyes.
Interlude: Not All Reflections Fade
The Librarian closed the tome slowly, the echo of flowing starlight still humming between the pages. Their gaze lingered on the closed book, as though trying to peer through the cover and into the river’s heart.
“A brave little light,” they whispered. “To face the truth when even the trees would turn away…”
They turned, drawing a new candle from beneath the desk – one flecked with fragments of shell and crystal, said to catch echoes in their wax.
“It’s not the seeing that changes us,” the Librarian added softly, lighting the wick. “It’s what we choose to carry back.”
And then, the next chapter waited in the hush beyond the flame.