Ame began to recite the story to me, perched upon the small wooden stool beside my bed. Her cute voice, occasionally faltering as she struggled to decipher the more complex words, was truly adorable. I lay there, trapped in my silent body, and kept hearing her recitation. At a certain point, a single name reached my ears that jolted my very soul: Eris.
According to the text, Eris was the paragon of this dwell. She had appeared to the ancestors of these people, teaching them how to farm, how to raise crops, and the secrets of the land. But as Ame read on, I found a glaring flaw—what Eris had taught was a beautiful, dangerous lie.
"She raised her hand and showed it to the plant; the mystic aura appeared around the plant, and immediately the plant grew," Ame read, her eyes wide with wonder. "Everyone around her was astonished. Eris, the paragon, the goddess, the saviour... we triumphed for 7 days and 7 nights, for her in this dwelling, and helped the lands…"
I realized then that Eris was clearly one of my kind—a possessor of power. She had used magic to force the earth to yield, but she had fundamentally deceived the people about the nature of growth. This was the root of my current struggle: two-thirds of the village still clung to the memory of Eris's "miracles," making them scoff at the slow, natural process of crop rotation.
At the end of the book, Ame tried to sing and recite the final verse. For some reason, her melody was a haunting mirror of the woman in the woods. There was a secret buried in those notes. I tried to focus with every ounce of my will as Ame sang the verses, searching for the key, but even as the final note faded, the true meaning remained just out of reach.
Night bled into morning. Aalis and Ame set about the grim task of my daily care. While I lay paralysed, they washed my body with warm cloths, lifting me with practiced care to reach my back before changing me into fresh clothes. When they had finished, a sharp knocking echoed through the room. Aalis opened the door to reveal Louis.
He stepped inside and stood before me, his expression grave. He informed me that the others were continuing with my orders, but then he shared a piece of news that filled me with dread: Aldea had vanished. She had gone out of the village alone, determined to find Geri.
I felt a surge of worry, but Louis held up a hand. "You don't need to worry, your highness. She is a capable person. There is no way she could die in a day. And about Zoe, we still don't receive any rumour or information anymore.."
He detailed their plans for the day before excusing himself. Ame followed him out, returning a few moments later with a tray of food. The feeding was a clumsy, humiliating affair; Ame had to manually open my mouth while Aalis carefully spooned the broth inside. I could still swallow, but I struggled to move my jaw to chew, so Ame had to gently move my mouth for me to help me digest.
For the days that followed, I was a captive audience to the girls. I heard Ame and Aalis reading through stacks of storybooks—Aalis reciting them to Ame like a kindergarten teacher telling a story to a child. I listened to their tales, some of which were quite amusing, but the reports from Cail and Louis remained stagnant. Aldea and Zoe had not returned.
However, during the long hours of my forced sleep, I began to dream. I saw a woman who looked exactly like the spirit in the woods. In the dream, she was an alchemist and a herbalist. I watched her in her small cottage deep within the forest, surrounded by dried herbs and ancient scrolls, seeking every scrap of knowledge about agriculture. She had helped the villagers, offering advice on how to let the soil recover. Her wisdom worked—for a time. But as the soil's natural fertility waned, the villagers grew impatient and demanded answers she didn't have. She could only tell them to let the land rest.
Season after season, the harvests dwindled. One day, the woman emerged from the woods to find the village transformed. Lands that should have lain fallow were bursting with potato plants. She rushed to the farmers, demanding to know why they had ignored her warnings.
The villagers simply shrugged, their faces full of newfound zeal. They told her a "Saviour" had come and healed the soil instantly. The Saviour had told them the land was recovered and ready to serve.
The woman pleaded with them, telling them it was nonsense—that magic could not replace the slow healing of the earth. She warned them that if they kept forcing the soil without rest, a disaster would follow that no magic could fix. But the villagers had turned their backs on her. They told her she had done nothing for them and ordered her back to her woods.
Heartbroken and forgotten, she retreated to her forest home. She spent years scouring every book and scroll for a solution. Finally, she discovered a theory: if creatures could be moved by music, perhaps plants—as living things—could be encouraged by the resonance of a verse. She began to compose, reciting every verse she found, weaving melody into the air.
I woke from the dream in the middle of the night, gasping as the realization hit me. I knew what she had been singing for all these years. It had been seven days since the paralysis took hold, and slowly, I felt the tingling of life returning to my fingers. Within minutes, I regained full control.
I moved silently, sneaking out of the inn through the back door. To my shock, Geri was already there, waiting in the shadows.
"Haha, You really keep your word.." I whispered.
"Of course I am… I still have honour and pride," Geri replied, her tail giving a single, sharp wag. "Now, you want to go there again?"
"Yes… You will accompany me, right?"
"I will; this time surely I will protect you….. Hop into my back." She lowered her body to the cobblestones.
I climbed on, gripping her fur. "This time will be different, Geri… I can feel it…"
"If you can feel it, probably it's true."
She dashed off, a silver streak in the moonlight. We reached the lakeside in record time. This time, Geri did not need to howl; the Spirit was already watching us as we emerged from the trees. I slid down from Geri's back, my boots hitting the ground firmly. The Spirit made her move immediately, parting the lake as she had before, the water bowing to her command.
Step by step, she approached until she stood directly in front of me. Geri moved to shield me, her teeth bared.
"So, it took 7 days for you to free yourself from all the roots.." the Spirit mused.
I placed a hand on Geri's shoulder, gently pushing her aside. "Stay aside, Geri. It's alright.." Geri complied, though she remained tense.
"What have you found?" the Spirit asked, her golden eyes narrowed.
"I found you wrong," I said firmly.
"Hohoho, what do you mean about me being wrong? Tell me where is the wrong?"
"There is no such thing as your singing helping the soil; singing couldn't help the soil. The vibrations of the sound might slightly encourage the plants to grow, but for the soil itself, it does nothing. You cannot sing life back into dead earth." I paused, watching her expression falter. "Even so, there is something that I don't understand.."
"What is that?"
"I feel your guilt and fear in your singing… I sensed your guilt toward the people you tried to help, but I also sensed a fear. What do you fear? I didn't see that in my dream…"
Geri looked at me, confused. "What do you see?"
"I saw a woman who tried so hard to help the people," I told Geri, then looked back at the Spirit. "First she succeeded and they loved her, but then everything turned upside down and they cast her out. I understand your guilt for not being able to save them from their own greed... but I don't understand your fear. What are you afraid of?"
The Spirit's regal posture crumbled. Her voice became a hollow whisper. "I was afraid… no, I am still afraid of her…"
"Her?"
"After a year, I was trying to study the soil," the Spirit confessed, her eyes darting to the dark trees. "I found something about the singing—what you said was right. I tried to go back to the village to tell them... but the village was already gone. There wasn't a single living soul left. Yet, at the center of the ruins, I met a woman... or perhaps a girl. The pressure of her presence was suffocating. When our eyes met, she just said... 'You are too late, long ears'."