Whispers of the Ancient Tree

The Silver Trail

A thin silver trail. Glowing, like that fog in the dream.

"I guess I'm not fully awake yet," I whispered, frowning in displeasure. What the hell is happening to me?

And while I was thinking about what happened in the morning, during the day, and then when I came home and fell asleep... now something else is strange... The sconce above the bed turned on and tried to turn off, but left a little light. Now that's completely crazy! I know for sure that it's just a regular light bulb, and it only has two light modes: "on" and "off"! I was seriously scared and jumped out of bed. Meanwhile, a whitish mist began to creep out of the cut on my finger.

I screamed hysterically. Even crickets would have envied me, I screamed so loudly. The light flickered, as if the room were hovering on the border between my sleep and reality. And the fog wasted no time; apparently, they had a special arrangement with the lamp: one distracts, the other takes effect. The fog swaddled me and pushed me back onto the bed. What's happening!? Is this death? Have the devils come for me? But I haven't done anything bad to anyone, I haven't quit my job yet, so in the event of my sudden death there's no one to replace me... And my sister will be upset to see a corpse in her apartment.

But no, the humorous thoughts before death faded into the background, because suddenly I was pierced by hellish pain. Sharp, like a flash. I arched my back and opened my eyes wide, unable to think or scream. I think I even stopped breathing for a few seconds in horror, listening to the pain... the fading pain.

But it didn't stop there. Symbols were appearing on my arm, my entire arm, from wrist to elbow! Silver, glowing, dancing like reflections of water on the ceiling. Or maybe it was all distorted by the tears in my eyes. I knew one thing for sure: the letters weren't letters. It was... something ancient. I knew that for sure. It made me frown, think, and finally distract myself from the madness that was unfolding. How could I know this language? What is it? And what's the point of understanding what I know if I still can't decipher the inscription? Nonsense.

Suddenly the letters flashed brightly—and disappeared. And then I saw it... The mirror shard! It was lying on the nightstand next to me. But I didn't put it there! After all, it was still in my jeans pocket when I undressed and went to bed! But that was the last thought I had before I fell into darkness, losing consciousness. I must be really overtired after all; I really need a vacation.

☆─── ✦ ───☆

The first thing I felt when I woke up was the cold. It clung to my body with its icy tentacles. It crept beneath the thin fabric of the sleeves of my white pyjamas, ran down my spine and seemed to lick the skin beneath my knees.

I groaned softly, keeping my eyes closed. The back of my head ached, as if someone had hit me hard with a blow. Smells. They were everywhere. Sharp, thick, strange, unlike anything I'd smelled at home or outside. They were rather unpleasant smells. Pepper, vinegar, the smell of salted fish, the unpleasant odor of some animal, dust, and something else. I even caught a whiff of horse manure, long forgotten since childhood. Ugh, how disgusting! Where am I that it stinks so much?

Somewhere nearby, I could hear the hum of voices. Men's, women's, children's. Laughter, shouts, arguments. If I were prone to regular binges, I might have assumed I'd fallen asleep in a drunken stupor and woken up at a market or fair, near the part where people drink, fight and act like fools. But I don't drink, and I've only ever been to events like that twice – at New Year's celebrations.

I finally propped myself up on my elbows and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a cobblestone. The stone beneath me was uneven, damp, darkened by the rain, with thin strands of moss in the cracks. I was lying right in the middle of the pavement. On either side of me were tall railings.

"What on earth..." I muttered under my breath. And I froze.

The stream of people walked round me as if I were a homeless person begging for alms in the middle of the road, rather than in the designated spot. Some shot me disapproving glances, someone snorted, and one woman even kicked the arm I was leaning on and muttered something under her breath. I couldn't make out the words, but... suddenly I understood the meaning. It was as if the language wasn't foreign at all, just as if it had a strange accent.

That brought me back to my senses, and I remembered the symbols on my arm, and then everything that had happened the day before. Where am I? Have I died and am I now in hell, in purgatory, or in some unknown world about which people haven't yet had time to invent stories? I gave an ironic chuckle. Right, there's no point in making things up, because real life is in full swing all around me. I don't know where I am or what to do, but sitting on the bridge is definitely not the answer. So I quickly got to my feet, walked to the end of the bridge and stepped out onto the bustling market. I looked around again, this time more carefully.

Stalls and market tents lined the street, which was paved with large stones. Bright fabrics fluttered in the wind, bunches of herbs hung above people's heads, and piles of vegetables, salted fish and dried meat lay on the stalls. There was a bustle everywhere – traders were calling out, passers-by were hurrying along, and someone's hooves were clattering on the stones. Yes, horses. Real, live ones! Carriages, carts, manure and grooms in high boots. I didn't see a single car. No sound of engines, no metallic sheen of modernity. Except perhaps for the metal gleaming in the wheels of the carriages and the carts, some newer than others. Otherwise... all around me was just wood, leather and fabric. Wild, unfamiliar and... frightening.