By Ginevra Marchesini • 18 June 2026
Lanie walked through the meadow.
The wind, a gentle morning breeze, carried the chill lingering from the previous night’s storm. Everything held the aftermath of the heavy rains; plants, grass, and petals all coated in small droplets of water. The path before her all muddy and soft, puddles scattered throughout. The birds that usually sung loud and flew freely were now hiding within the thick branches of the forest, resting after what must have been a taxing night for them.
Clicking the garden gate closed, Lanie stepped out into the prairie carrying her empty basket. There, on her way to the Mountain, she’d pick flowers and petals, leaves and branches, to create her gift for the Goddess. The walk to the Mountain was a long one but Lanie did not mind it. If anything, she longed for it. Walking cleared her mind, it let her stay with her thoughts, of ill nature or not, long enough that when she eventually reached her destination they did not bother her anymore. Her weekly walk to the Mountain gave her just enough time for her mind to settle.
But this time she felt different.
Something had bothered her in her sleep, perhaps it was caused by the previous night’s storm. The sound of the soft rain had lulled her to sleep at first, but as the night went on the rain got heavier and it drummed on the roof of her home. The loud pitter-patter had interrupted her dreams so many times during the night that she barely remembered what world she was brought to in her slumber. The only thing remnant was a sweet melody, distant words that were so far they could not be caught.
Lanie held her hand out and gently brushed her fingers through the blades of grass, tickling her palm ever so slightly. She enjoyed that feeling, the soft caress of nature on her calloused hands. The small droplets of water that coated the grass soaked the ends of her sleeves so she rolled them up.
The sun was still low in the sky, the first whispers of light coming through the low hanging clouds. Despite the lack of direct sunlight, the morning was bright enough for Lanie to look ahead of her and see where she stepped. Her gardens, and the forest beyond them, were coated in a thick haze, hiding the view ahead. Behind her, the cloudy mist was so thick and heavy that the horizon of the ocean blended into the sky, one could not tell where one began or the other ended, creating an infinite sky.
And yet, the Mountains were still clearly visible.
No matter how thick the mist or how dark the night, the Mountains were always in view. When she set her head out the window at night, the Mountains shone against the starry night. If the day was claimed by a heavy thunderstorm and thick clouds coated the sky, the Mountains stood out, untouched by the foul weather. It was almost like they were a place of their own, emanating their own light and working within the rules of their own universe.
Now, as she walked through the tall grass, she could see them in the distance. And whenever she looked at them for too long, she felt drawn into them. Something pulled her to them, pulling her forward, guiding her feet. And it was a feeling she could not resist.
Far ahead of her, she could hear the soft songs of morning birds, a soft humming that seemed familiar to Lanie. She thought she had heard it somewhere before but wasn’t sure where. Joining the morning birds, Lanie softly hummed along, trying to place in her memories where the song had come from.
At the edge of her gardens was a spot where she picked the petals for her gifts.
She did not like to pluck wildflowers an plants directly from the ground, it felt like killing them to her. Instead, she resorted to picking the petals that had fallen from the flowers. The petals had fallen on their own command, ready to be absorbed into the earth and be given a new life. And that is what Lanie hoped to do by picking them for her gifts. Thanks to the high winds form the previous night’s storms all kinds of broken wildflowers and fallen petals coated the ground.
It saddened her to see the devastation that the storm caused but rejoiced knowing that after heavy rains brought prosperity to the gardens and forest.
She picked up the bulb of a wild rose that, despite being broken from its stem, remained intact and untouched. With the utmost delicacy, she placed it in a corner of her basket, away from the other items she picked up, safely tucked away.
As she reached the edges of the gardens she neared the Forest that grew from the Mountains and spilled into the Valley.
It was an ancient Forest, the trees had been there long before anyone inhabited these lands and they would remain long after everyone was gone.
As she stepped into the forest, the air shifted. When in the gardens the thin air was chilled by a soft breeze, in the Forest it hung thick and heavy. The mist intensified ahead, covering the ground. The closely-growing trees thickened the atmosphere, closing in, making Lanie feel trapped.
Above, the sky vanished, covered by the closely-growing trees. Only fragments remained, scattered above like the pieces of a broken bottle. The thick foliage created a canopy so thick that it almost looked like there was an actual roof. Lanie’s instincts guided her through fallen branches and overturned rocks, she knew where to place her feet so that she did not sink into pools of mud. The air was damp in the Forest, the fallen leaves had absorbed all the moisture and were now a soft blanket to walk on. Above her head hung branches, clothed in thick moss, a vibrant green contrasting the dark wet wood of the tree. The branches reached out, grasping at the empty air, twisting around each other in intricate patterns. Vines grew along the branches, twisting and turning, decorating the trees like a sculptor decorating the edges of his statues. Some were so long they grew beyond the limits of the branches, cascading down to the ground and curtaining the path ahead of her.
Though the Forest lacked the colours of the wildflowers from the gardens, she had plenty of offerings to choose from. From the ground, she picked up a few leaves that were fully green anymore but had not lost their bright colour just yet. Taking a few steps forward she ventured deeper into the Forest, searching for a particular tree that she had always favoured.
When she reached it, she marvelled at it as if it was the first time she had seen it. It was right in the heart of the Forest and stood taller than any other tree there – or any tree that Lanie had ever seen. It had massive leaves, some almost bigger than her torso. Though intimidating at first, she had found that this tree was particularly generous in its gifts. No matter how hot or cold the air, how dry or wet the weather, how late or soon in the season it was, the tree always had something to offer her. Lanie always found fallen leaves at its base and in the years she had grown to preferring this tree above all others.
She looked around her and saw that there were so many leaves to choose from this time, more than usual. Unsure what to pick, she chose the first leaf that she had noticed. It had not fully turned yellow but had not lost all of its bright green just yet. A perfect base for the gift to the Goddess.
After placing the leaf in the basket with the other items, Lanie stepped closer to the tree and placed a hand on it. She ran her fingers along the veins of the truck, gently tracing the lines of the bark. Though not as soft as the wildflowers or the grass, she found it just as comforting.
The years had been harsh on the Forest, stripping away layers of bark, replaced by weeds snaking and twisting their way to the top. And yet, the forest had never been more beautiful. From the rich brown of the wood, to the vibrant green of the moss, to the orange hues of fallen leaves; the Forest was a magical place, so much so that Lanie could feel its life on the tips of her fingers. Almost like it was speaking to her, whispering something directly into her mind. She closed her eyes and focused.
And that is when she heard it. Or at least she thought she did.
The melody from her dreams.
She heard it faintly in the distance, as if a gust of wind blew past her carrying the melody. And as fast as the wind had passed, so did the melody. So quickly and softly that Lanie thought she had imagined it.
It was the same tune that the birds had been singing in the gardens earlier. The same melody that she tried so hard to remember but could not place.
The song was like a memory to her, buried deep in her mind, too far for her to reach it and grasp it. It was like the melody was teasing her, showing that no matter how hard she wanted to know it, how badly she needed to find it, she never would. It was haunting her.
She knew she had heard it somewhere before.
And then, again, she found herself humming along. It almost felt like something had taken over her, forcing her to join the wind and the trees. It felt so natural and normal, like breathing or blinking. Like a habit she had had her whole life.
Then, the wind came again and carried the melody. And just like the first time, it passed quicker than Lanie could realise. With her hand still on the tree’s body, she hummed along, this time remembering more notes than before. The morning birds, still hidden within the dense trees joined her with a soft chirp. She sung with the wind and the birds, Lanie felt at peace. Her mind was emptied of all thoughts, her heart was stilled by the sweet melody, her soul lifted by the chill carried by the wind. And in that moment, as she sung with the wind and the birds, her memories sparked and Lanie started muttering a few words.
…the wind bites…
…warm and cold…
The melody that she so longed to remember came alive with those words. They came out of her mouth without a second thought, like they just wanted to escape from her mind and be carried away by the wind.
And with it, the forest seemed to shift. Perhaps it was the wind that was so strong it moved the thick branches of the ancient trees, or maybe just a figment of her imagination. But something in the Forest moved, the air shifted again. It felt more alive, like it was pulsating with energy. Like it had been unlocked.
But as quickly as the memory of the words came, so did the life in the Forest.
Lanie removed her hand from the tree and opened her eyes.
She looked around her, the birds now silent and the wind unmoving, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Forest being alive. A branch bent differently, leaves dancing on the ground. Yet she saw nothing and was beginning to think she imagined it all.
She backed away from the tree and picked up a few more leaves and small branches. Hooked on her left arm, the basket was now full and she could make her way to her final destination.
The Mountain was a looming presence above her.
Though she had climbed a few meters already, it stretched far beyond where the eye could see. Her destination was a few meters ahead of her, hidden behind a wall of thick foliage. She brushed it aside and stepped inside the tunnel that led to the cave.
Lanie tightened the blanket around her shoulders.
It had been cold that morning, the sun still hidden behind the thick clouds and the imposing mist thick on the ground, but it could not compare to the chill that haunted the Mountain. The temperature dropped exponentially at soon as she stepped into the tunnel. It clung to her skin, slithering into her bones, chilling her from the inside. And not matter how many blankets and sweaters she wore, or how tightly she wrapped herself, it was unbeatable.
But she had gotten used to it. She knew it was only a temporary feeling and she rejoiced in knowing that soon it would be over.
Lanie moved the basket from her right arm to the left and put the free hand on the wall. It was so dark in the cave, all light had been stolen away. She could barely see past her nose. Much like the absence of warmth, the cave drowned all light like the ocean swallowed sunken ships. The walls of the cave were rough and sharp, rocks jutted out of the wall with pointed edges, easily slicing through the toughest leather. Normally, it would deter anyone from setting foot inside but Lanie knew this place like the back of her hand. She wasn’t frightened. It was through years and years of attempts, leading to countless cuts and bruises, that Lanie learnt how to navigate the dark cave. She knew where to step to avoid sharp rocks, a slight turn of the foot here and a tip toe there and Lanie’s skin would be unscathed. And as always the cave guided her.
The cave had long been considered an ill omen, a cursed place. People had been staying far away from it for centuries, going so far as taking hour-long detours to completely avoid passing in front of the mountain. She had heard stories of horses losing their minds over the sight of the entrance to the cave, soldiers turning their own swords against themselves as they stepped inside, birds that stopped flying and plummeted to the ground as they neared the mountain.
As she ventured deeper into the tunnel, getting closer to her destination, the walls began to smooth over. Where sharp and pointy rocks slightly scratched her hands before, now caressed her palms. Sharp corners were now soft curves.
Then, she she felt the wind brush her skin once again, as softly as the brush of a feather.
And she began singing again. This time the words came more naturally, the song flowing through her like a young river.
…the wind bites…
…warm and cold…
…the sky splits…
…true and real…
The wind brushed against her skin again, warm and strange. This time around the wind was warmer and more welcoming. It lingered in her hair and against her clothes. It wrapped itself around her arms for the briefest second, only to flow into the walls of the tunnel.
Lanie could see little specks of light reflected on the walls like the fallen leaves scattered around the base of her favourite tree. Within the pure darkness of the cave, even the slightest speck of light made the biggest difference. She was getting closer to her destination.
In the distance, she could hear the soft sound of running water. She was nearing the cave and her heart began to pick up. It started beating faster and faster.
Then, that strange gust of wind came again.
It wrapped around her shoulders and back like a warm embrace, slithering down to her legs and propelling her forward, urging her to walk faster.
The walls of the tunnel had started to drift apart, the entrance to the cave be coming wider and wider until it reached a point where Lanie could not longer reach across with her hands to guide her. Not that she needed it by then. The wind was calling her, it pulled her forward. She raised her head high and stared right ahead, trying to shake it off.
In all the years of her coming to the cave to present her gifts to the Goddess, she had never experienced such magnetism. This time around she had no control over her body or her mind. With every gust of wind she gave in to her instincts. The wind told her to sing and she sung. The wind told her to quicken her pace and she walked faster.
Before she realised, she had finally reached her destination.
The beauty of the cave always struck her as if it was the first time she saw it. Hidden within a cursed mountain covered in dead trees and plants, the cave felt alive more than anything. Located right in the middle of the mountain where all sources of warmth and light were eradicated by the darkness. And yet, it felt warm. There was life pulsing through its walls and sparkling in the air.
The ceiling was open and a long and narrow tunnel shot up to the very top of the mountain, opening up to the outside elements. Lanie looked up and saw the blue sky, shining bright and clean, not a cloud in sight. The chute let through a bit of light, just enough for Lanie to see where she was stepping. As she entered the cave, she felt it again, that energy that propelled her up. It was like a magnet she could not escape from, drawing her forward.
In the far corner of the cave stood the statue of a Goddess. Lanie did not know who she was or what she represented. The first time she came to the cave, a curious little girl with flowers braided in her hair, she had seen the towering statue and had been immediately taken aback. The way the light dispersed in the cave, the thick moss that blanketed nearly every surface, the snaking vines wrapped around the statue. The mystery with which the water moved and created spirals in the pool. She had felt how the air changed and shifted as she stepped in, the wind carrying a soft breeze dragging her forward.
She had realised in that moment that the statue could represent nothing but a Goddess and the cave could be nothing other than a temple.
It was then that she had given her first gift, a small daisy plucked out of her braid and let loose not he water, gently carried away into the darkness of the Mountain.
Sometimes she wondered if there were other places of worship like hers scattered around the continent or if the new Emperor had eradicated them entirely. She imagined large temples with multiple statues, their hands held high to the sky or low and connected to the earth. Priests and devotees like her would take care of the statues, cleaning them, polishing them, making sure they were the perfect embodiment of the Old Gods. Not like the cave Lanie visited, lost and forgotten through the years, covered in thick moss and its walls caving in.
The Goddess held out her arms, on top of which sat a large bowl split in half. Water trickled down below, filling the floor of the cave. The ground was slightly higher where Lanie stood and sunk deeper near the Goddess until nearly half the statue was submerged. The water seemed to have a life of its own, unknown currents swirled it around and created ripples in the water. Behind the statue of the Goddess, all along their smooth surface, the walls were decorated with cracks that branched out in many directions. Some were thicker than others and let the water flow through, transporting it around the rocky peak until it eventually escaped the mountain and cascaded into the outside world.
Intertwined vines sprouting from between the heavy walls of the cave coiled around the Goddess’ neck and branched out over her cheeks, masking her face. Her eyes were closed but untouched, completely amiss of any plant or moss. A dense blanket of green covered her body all the way to her chest, acting as a second layer of clothing.
Lanie took the basket that was still hooked to her arm and laid it gently to the ground. As she began to take the petals and flowers out of the basket, putting together a gift for the Goddess, Lanie found herself humming the song again. The words that came out other mouth were more clear to her now.
…fall into the water, let it claim you…
…fate carried through, watch the sky…
The gifts Lanie made for the Goddess were all handmade and different from each other. Little crates that floated above the water and carried the products of nature. Filled with petals, flowers, and leaves, these gifts were a part of her very being. She couldn’t remember a time in her life where she did not offer something to the Goddess.
Thought they may seem futile and insignificant, Lanie found that even the smallest offering, the tiniest leaf, the thinnest petal, the most dried up flower, made a difference. She noticed the wind blew warmer after the Goddess took her gift. The birds sang louder and more joyful, the wild mice were not as afraid to come out. And most important, the river flowed clearer and stronger. The river passed just outside the gardens encircling her lands, and its waters were now tainted with mud and debris brought in by the previous night’s storm. Lanie wished for it to regain its natural clarity. Perhaps the gift she prepared today, bigger than any she had ever made, would satisfy the Goddess enough to restore some balance.
She took out the bulb of the wild rose that she had carefully placed in the corner of the basket. With delicate hands, Lanie placed it on top of the gift and laid it gently on the edge of the water. The currents carried the gift into the mountain.
The melody that had been haunting her all day lingered in her mind.
She found her gaze pulled to the statue of the Goddess. She could not take her eyes away from it. That warm breeze shifted the air once more, pulling her gaze higher and higher. She felt a force tugging in her mind, compelling her to sing, to move, to look at the Goddess.
Words stated spilling out of her again, this time convincing and true.
…light dies and blows in the wind…
…the life is gone but found within…
…never remembered but always forgotten…
…swim away while the world stays rotten…
No one could hear her in her anyways so she did not mind if the words were muffled or confusing, they were meant for her ears and her ears only.
Lanie’s eyes drifted to the statue of the Goddess once more. She squinted her eyes as she continued singing, as if the sight of the statue became too much for her eyes to bare. Almost imperceptible, small droplets flowed out of the Goddess’ eyes, like tears.
With no control of her actions or her movements, Lanie’s arms shot forward, palms raised to the sky. As the tears fell into the water below, she found herself trying to catch them. Her arms moved by themselves and her legs carried her forward on their own accord. She stepped into the cool water, her legs fighting against the currents, never taking her eyes off the Goddess.
Her melody echoed in the cave.
Lanie immersed herself in the water until it reached her shoulders and then kicked her feet up, no longer touching the soft floor of the cave. The force that compelled her to not advert her eyes from the Goddess brought her forward, forced her to swim to the spot where the water cascaded from the bowl. Though it was a thin stream, the water poured below with force. Lanie swam towards it.
When she reached it, she submerged herself and stayed underwater for a few seconds. In her head she was still humming the song, the words floating around like a leaf caught in the wind.
She closed her eyes.
Her melody echoed in the cave.
Lanie felt the warm breeze on her face and welcomed it like a familiar friend. It was no longer an occasional gust but an ever present company, soothing her nerves and mind. From the water, the melody she was singing in her mind seemed so much louder, so much more alive. It vibrated through the currents in the pool and tickled her skin. She opened her eyes and placed her feet on the bottom of the pool again. The melody got louder and louder, the air in the cave thick with it.
Then she looked up towards the face of the statue.
The eyes of the statue were bright as the rays of the sun. And they were staring right at her.
Ginevra Marchesini 