In the Kingdom of Eldria, where the mountains rose like giants of old and the plains stretched to eternity, there was one wood which all people feared. By its name alone, the Forest of Whispers had it that this was a place where secrets breathed.
The leaves whistled back to the wind, ancient voices—some say, carrying words older than the stars—and Eira, a 17-year-old apprentice alchemist, all her life had listened from beside this forest, out her cottage window.
Some woods do appear dark indeed to the townspeople, mumbling tales of dark creatures and accursed beings. But these woods called to Eira for reasons she herself could not tell. Sometimes she stood amongst the treetops and listened to the wind; the notion that the forest spoke to her was a very common feeling of hers. Resistance proved too hard. She had packed her bag with perfected alchemical tools, a small knife, and a journal for jotted notes.
She stepped out the front door, turned for a final glance at the little cottage. She walked into the setting sun, it's shadows laid a cast across the stretches of the land, and In a distance, trees of the Whispering Forest wove their usual gentle dance, not far from the lane, as though they were beckoning her. The moment she stepped into the forest, the air seemed to change. The air grew heavier, tinged with something unknown. The trees seemed to lean forward, not just stand there, and listen.
Leaves whispered in deliberate pattern, as if trying to speak. Eira's heart raced, but curiosity got the better of her. And so she walked hour after hour. Louder and louder, the whispers grew, until it seemed as if the forest was leading deeper into its heart. The walks were round and round, while the trees above the path were silent sentinels. Again, a glade opened to view. Right in the center of it stood a tree as old as time, its bark gray as silver; its roots heaved up and twisted on the ground as if below they had burst their bonds. From the hollow cave at its feet, a faint light, blue as the sky, appeared, and a steady, soft radiance cast that part of the wood in an unearthly gleam.
Then, as if the voice had been waiting there all the time behind the silence, a deep, rumbling voice suddenly boomed out, "Who disrupts the middle of the Whispering Woods?"
Eira froze. Instinctively, she reached for the knife on her belt. A figure emerged from the trees, a weird fusion of human and plant, with eyes that shone like silver moons, his skin made from bark with leaves of glowing runes inscribed within.
"I am not here to harm," Eira faltered. "I was only trying to understand. The whisper led me here."
And in his gaze, there was something there, some centuries-older quality that made her feel so infinitely small and an insignificant speck, yet curiously welcomed.
"The forest does not call to people lightly," he said.
"If you would like to know its secrets, first you have to prove yourself. Woe polluted our waters and distorted our roots. Cure this land, and the answer shall be yours."
Eira nodded, her stomach churning with nervousness. The weight of such a task lay heavy, like a cloak cast upon her shoulder.
"I will," she said, attempting to sound steady.
Days passed, with Eira frequenting the woods, taking samples of poisoned water and dead plants in turn. Whispers guided her as, through sleepless nights, the piecemeal pieces formed. Further and further in, it linked an ancient plague originating from relics beneath the surface. Eira knew enough of alchemy to neutralize the poison, so she was able to counter the elixir mixture. She tilted a glowing concoction upon a shard of obsidian, and it engaged in a bubbling, furious reaction that liquefied it to dust with ease.
For one instant, the forest seemed to sigh, and then the air began to lighten, its staleness lessened. The guardian showed once more, this time a vague hint of softening in his gaze.
"Very good," he said. "This wood thanks you. Now, you may ask what questions you will."
She took a deep breath. This was what she had been waiting for.
"How can I perfect the art of alchemy?"
The guardian stepped forward and reached into the hollow of an old tree. He pulled out a seed that glowed with a soft inner light.
"Plant these in your garden. Nurture it with patience and wisdom, and in time, it shall grow into a tree of infinite knowledge. But alchemy is not something that can be learned in a rush—it takes time, effort, and the ability to repeatedly try and rise after falling."
Eira stood still for a moment, foreseeing a certain weight in her hands—something great yet delicate.
"I will," she whispered. "I will."
Years wore on, and the name of Eira was whispered across Eldria as one of the greatest alchemists of all time. Yet again, the relation between her and the whispering forest remained the same, and that seed grew into a magnanimous tree whose roots dug deeper than earth-soil into her heart.
And it is often in this laboratory that, amongst flasks of essences, strange mixers, and various tools, her mind bounces back to that moment when the guardian uttered, "It shall grow into a tree of infinite knowledge."
The woods were silent to other folks.
But she still heard it as clear as ever— the whispers of the forest.
