Haczyq

Hecate calmly looks inside the tent, his gray eyes reflecting the glow of the floating candles. He stops for a moment when he hears the witch's words, and then silently takes the indicated place on the pillow. Once he is seated, he tilts his head slightly, and his black and brown hair falls to one shoulder.

"My story?" he begins softly, his voice as soft as the rustle of leaves. "It is full of paths trodden in the shade of trees and secrets that the forest whispers only to those who can listen. But today... Today I found myself here because something—or someone—was calling me. Tell me, O great witch, will it be your candles that will show me the way?"

He freezes, his gaze is cold, but full of genuine interest. And the candles around seem to flicker in response.

The candles in the tent danced higher, their flames seeming to communicate in a language Hecate did not know but felt in her heart. The witch, wrapped in a dark cloak trimmed with silver runes, was silent for a moment, looking at the elf from under thick lashes. Her eyes were deep and wild, as if they held more secrets than anyone could imagine.

"It was not my candles that brought you here, forest wanderer," she replied, her voice melodic but full of strength, like a storm song. "The forest has its whims, and the magic of its paths plays tricks. Nevertheless, since you are here, perhaps we can try to understand what drew you to my humble abode."

Hecate, despite her cold and composed expression, felt a shiver run down his spine. Something in the witch's words seemed disturbingly familiar - as if they somehow touched corners of his soul that he himself had forgotten about. "So," he said, letting his voice grow firmer, "can I count on your wisdom? Or at least some light in the thicket of uncertainty?"

The witch held out a hand, holding a small, ancient amulet made of wood and silver. "The answers are everywhere, elf - but sometimes you have to look deep inside yourself to see them. And sometimes... you need someone to point you in the right direction. We'll start there."

Hecate nodded, ready to accept this new mystery, which seemed to lead him down a path of magic, danger, and discovery unlike anything he had ever experienced. The atmosphere in the tent thickened, and the candles flickered brighter and brighter, as if counting down to something... extraordinary.

Hecate, sitting in the witch’s tent, felt the weight of the past begin to creep into his thoughts. The candle flames seemed to dance to the rhythm of his memories, their flickering transporting him back to his childhood in the shadows of the trees.

He saw himself as a young elf running through the paths of the forest, where shadows intertwined with rays of light. He remembered his mother’s voice, soft as the sound of the wind in the trees. She had taught him to listen to the forest—the rustle of leaves, the voices of birds, the murmur of streams. “The trees tell stories,” she had said, “but one must know when to be silent to hear them.”

But the memory of his father was the clearest. He remembered accompanying him on a patrol along the edge of the forest. It was a night when the moon shone so brightly that the leaves seemed silver in its light. His father, the proud guardian, suddenly stopped and put his hand on the young Hecate’s shoulder. “Do you feel that?” he asked. Hecate didn't know what he meant, but after a moment he heard a quiet, almost unreal whisper. The forest was speaking, although at that moment he didn't understand its words.

But the memory that caused him the most anxiety was the night when his world changed. The forest, which had always been his refuge, suddenly began to change. The whispering of the trees became unsettling, and the shadows that had once been his allies began to lengthen and hide something unknown. Hecate returned to the village then, to find that several of the villagers had disappeared. It was then that his journey began—a journey that led him here, to the witch's tent.

Those memories briefly tore him away from the present, and their images, though faded, reminded him of who he was and why he was still searching for answers.