The bioluminescent path didn't lead her towards an exit,but deeper into the belly of the Elder Wood, where the trees grew so thick their roots resembled tangled limbs.The air here was different—sweet and cloying, like rotting fruite and ancient incense.
As she followed the glowing moss, she noticed the shadows weren't behaving. They didn't fall away from her bracelet's light: they stretched towards it, hungry and inquisitive.
"Stop," a voice commanded.
It wasn't the collective groan of the forest this time. It was a single, sharp sound, like the snap of a dry twight.
From behind the massive trunk of a weeping willow, a figure stepped into the lilac glow. It wasn't human, though it walked on two legs. It's skin was of color of wet slate, and it's eyes—large and milky—reflected the pulse of her bracelet. It wore a cloak woven from leaving shadows that seemed to ripple even though there was no wind.
"The pulse," the creature said, pointing a long, spindly finger her wrist."It has been silent for three turnings of the moon. Why does it wake forest you, little spark?"
She gripped the bracelet, the metal suddenly felling searingly hot against her skin."I didn't wake it. It found me at the altar." The creature tilted its head, a low clicking sound emanating from its throat."The altar does not give. It only trades. If you have the light, the Wood will demand your shadow in return."