If Faith were a book, than I lost it. But the Forest in the Well is kind for all its Cinders.

And so the cord was cut, pulled away as it had gone slack. The curve of the wall, floor, sealing of the labyrinthine forest gaping with her decision.

She could finally see clearly the forest blight of roots that had decided to bare itself to her as an enemy, but Alina knew as sure as her feet beneath her that it was sleeping. She’d felt it as soon as she did it, like that too short lifeline was the thing blinding her.

For a moment she concerns herself with Isabel’s certainty, her tragedy, her grief.

And the ferocity she felt against it, that untampered want for it all to be temporary was rekindled. She will not lose.

She waits careful and new, in the world beneath life and breathes.

She looks around, at the lightless place she was in, the viny bramble path sluggishly moving beneath and above. Alina remembers a story like this. In the heavy book in her bag.

“The forest twists for her, the inescapable heartless thing that saved her life. Oh what would be the hunter’s pride in taking, though this woman does lead her forth.” She remembers, how it sounded from her mother.

How lurid.

Despite the darkness it was so, she thought, as she walked further down her path.

She almost hopes that Claudia was young enough not to see it. To understand it. But she also knows how Aunt Gillian is when she reads to children. Neither Alex nor Claudia would’ve been, well the way they were if not for that.

She smiles a little at this, knowing, deciding in her bones that it would be so.

Alina keeps to her path careful and listening, waiting.

Something in her body, that thing that saw shapes in shadows far behind was whimpering.

She heard a rustling, a sharp crackle, the burning of foliage-

And a vine hauled her back – by her waist, a great heavy tug. That swept her off her feet, and out further back on her path.

She screams, but she smells the burning, and she doesn’t risk her all too mortal body trying to retch herself away, and toward it.

It holds against her, tensing on and around her body. Too close. She thinks, as it pulls her further back.

There is a kind moment, where she thinks it will loosen, that its constriction would evoke the corn snake, and not the common boa. But only once she’s too far back, and the smoke is made far from her, does it let her loose.

Slowly though, as she falls to the ground beneath her.

Its only then that she learns what had been lost.

The book.

Primed with knowledge that she only half remembered, and as heavy as a toddler, she could feel the loss of that weight on her back. Lighter than her own newly aware vision she was scared.

It was a most foolish thing she thinks, what had stolen her grimoire?

She stops worried then, the world of the forest still much too dark.

‘What indeed.” She hears the forest at once. And it snaps quiet in her head upon feeling her attention.

“Where’s my book?” Alina demands, angry at the tone draped across her mind. Swearing again, that if this nonsense place had done anything more to injure her she would in fact leave it in ruins and bare the Well’s opening to hell without these predatory vine-guards.

‘Such anger.’ It states, a voice without movement, ‘I mean nothing in the way of harm. Honest to the dirt.’

“Don’t be so certain. I know your Root’s claw, my sister does also.”

‘Well you are also in that line, little dancer,’ it says, much too aware, speaking above her, ‘common blood with the ink, isn’t it dear?’

Alina responds, “I wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t care really, but worthless things are rarely stolen.” Thief she thinks, as she continues, “what matters more is my sister, I must get her back or else.”

“You know this.” She finishes, looking around at the darkness pockmarked by floating lights.

‘Well now, there’s little I can do for that.’

“Whatever do you mean? I’ve got plenty I’d dread losing.” She declared, in careful language. Taking some comfort in the little things she still carried.

It was an amazing thing how dear any bobble-object became once it was out to market.

‘And what rank do you believe I am, that dread would bare a golden standard?’

“The rank that pulls souls and bodies straight from the earth, I’m certain that’s quite a power.”

‘It is, but I’ve nothing you’d wish for. And more still, you’ve nothing I’d need.’ it chastises her.

“I suppose you won’t need a wig, will you?”

‘no’

“Well, I suppose I can just burn you down.” She tossed up her hands, “That is if whoever else doesn’t finish you first.” she says thinking of the smoke she’d been pulled from, whatever else was out there might have good reason also.

‘Little girls shouldn’t say such things in jest.’

“Forests shouldn’t steal little girls and then be cowardly in the face of a little arson,” Alina states, quite literally uninterested in the forest’s anxiety, “Where is she- my sister if she’s not here on offer?”

Are you incompetent? She thinks, knowing that it was aware of such things.

‘What an accusation.’ It responds to her thought more than anything, ‘I can not tell you this. My trees are honest, but anything can lie if frightened.’

“Well than, answer me. If you’re so Honest. Who stole my book?”

‘The Grimoire?’

“Yes that.”

‘Well that I can answer, though there is quite a tale I may need to tell.’ The forest says, it starts, ‘You see, you were not alone on your path. I’ve been compromised I could not impose beyond this even if I wanted to. And while walking through me, there was one who knew the power you carried with you.’

‘She is a witch, and a crone. And she is the enemy of the Wanton King. Though not so much that she would have him deposed,’ the forest explains, clearly perturbed by that fact, ‘She’d been following after you this entire time, as you were blind to her, and untouchable.’

“I wonder why was I either?” Alina thought aloud, it wasn’t strange to her that she was blind, but it was disturbing to think that she was protected in this place.

‘You should not interrupt. You will need to know this if you are to find your sister or the tome that will lead you to her.’ It said scolding.

“I only asked, as it seems a strange logic now that I’m here.”

‘Don’t you know?’

“I do, but not why?”

‘Humans, always asking such things. Why?’ it dismisses, only for Alina to pull out her matchbook, ‘I see, I see. Don’t light that. It’s as simple as you know, you were still bound to the earth, and because of how you are it meant you couldn’t see anything until you weren’t anymore.’

“Oh.” She says, putting her matchbook away, “That makes sense. She saw an opening once I cut it.”

‘That’s right. It left you vulnerable to both things, to knowledge, and to strife.’ The forest states clearly.

“That’s. That’s to be expected.” Alina says, half sick with her own foolishness, “Who am I to think this would be at all easy?”

Was she right to cut that line? Does it matter? She thinks, “where’s the witch?” she finally says, maybe she should kill the crone and see what she’ll get for that?

‘Your joking? Surely you jest!’ The forest leads her, a bit too eager. The willow wisps already showing her a path.

Surely she thinks, it means for it to be a path out.

And so she follows, hoping she can pay whatever toll is expected of her.