Mejink's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Mejink counted three villages between the hunter and her front door. She stood in her forest hut, staff in hand, and knew that number was shrinking. A trapper had warned her at market. A stranger in gray was asking about an elf woman who spoke to spirits. She had spent a year searching the deep wilds for a place to build a sanctuary, somewhere spiritualists could use their gifts without fear. If the hunter caught her first, that dream ended in a cage. She pressed her palm to her white wood staff. Faint lights stirred inside it, the spirits she had gathered over months. She could not fight a trained hunter. She could only vanish. Mejink packed food, a blanket, and a bundle of glowing flowers she used for medicine. The blooms shed turquoise and purple light across the table. She wrapped them tight so they would not give her away in the dark. Then she stepped outside and did not look back at the moss-covered roof she had loved. She walked until the trees pressed close and the ground turned to bare stone. Behind her, far off, a dog barked twice. The hunter used hounds. Her scent would lead them straight to her. Mejink needed to break her trail. She found a stream and waded upstream, cold water soaking her dress. The barking faded, then sharpened again. The hounds had found the bank. She had bought minutes, not escape. Ahead, a dark crack split the rock face. She ducked inside and the world changed. Blue crystals lined the walls, throwing cool light down a long passage. The air felt still and old. She hurried forward, staff tapping stone, her breath loud in the narrow space. The hounds reached the entrance. She heard their claws scrape, then heard them whine. They would not follow her in. Something in the crystal light turned them back. But the hunter's boots came steady behind the whining. Mejink pressed her staff to the nearest crystal cluster. The spirits inside her staff answered the crystals, and both flared bright. Light filled the passage like a flood. She spoke the words her mother had taught her in secret. The crystals rang, high and clear, and loose stone cracked above the entrance. Rock fell. A slab dropped across the crack, sealing the mouth of the cave. Dust rolled over her. The hunter's shout came muffled through stone, then nothing. She had cut herself off from the trail, the hounds, and the man. Mejink leaned against the wall and breathed. She was safe. She was also trapped. The only way out lay deeper, down the glowing passage into ground no village map had ever named. She lifted her staff. The spirits pulled gently forward, toward the dark. Mejink followed the light. If a hidden sanctuary existed anywhere in these wilds, it waited somewhere past this cold blue tunnel.