For all of her talk of getting strangled by an errant vine…

  Shiver hadn’t anticipated that it would actually happen.

  Which was why she had barely been able to ready her Phobia as vines shot out from beneath the undergrowth, wrapping around her neck and drawing her into the void before she could make a sound.

  For a moment, Shiver had been surrounded by innumerable stars, as if floating in the deepest reaches of the night sky. She felt it swallowing her whole, consuming her. The threat of losing herself to the vast reaches of darkness, and the terrors that lay beyond began to beckon.

  So that’s what it’s like to Fear the stars…

  Then, the brief moment came to a halt. She collapsed onto dirt, hurrying to right herself.

  Her vision, still lingering on the ground at her feet, fixated on a strange pattern of light and shadow imposed on the ground shifting before her.

  She looked up.

  The Dawntree’s canopy of a million leaves danced in the wind, high above her.

  Usurping the place of the stars above.

  Shiver felt her heart begin to race, as she realised where she had been transported.

  How many elves had the ambition to create monstrosities like the Dawntree. She saw the intent of its creator, a canopy which held the stolen light of the sunset, to replace the night sky.

  The sheer, and casual arrogance of it all had to be admired.

  “Welcome, to the Dreadwood. Shiver, is it?”

  Shiver raised her head in the direction of the voice. The Dawntree’s trunk was so vast that it blotted out everything in view in the distance beyond.

  She realised, that she was standing in a court, at the very heart of the Dreadwood, in the city of Viridian.

  The Kindly Gardener – Highlady Solastra Flora’s abode.

  Highlady Solastra Flora sat on her throne.

  Two Knights of the Dreadwood attended her, flanking her on either side. The sight of their armour brought her mind back to the writhing vine and root that had encased Semille and his attendants.

  Only… the armour these knights bore was different.

  There was something superior about them.

  Shiver’s eyes traced over a greatsword wrought from black wood. It blended seamlessly into the shadow around her, appearing to draw in the light around it.

  Unlike the armour that Semille had borrowed from his attendant, this knight’s armour was less an unseemly mess of vines, and one that mirrored plate armour. Then, her eyes widened as she glimpsed the miniscule fibres of woot and rood which comprised it.

  It was a show of control, one that Semille and his lackeys could barely comprehend. The wild vines and root that encircled them may have been intimidating to the untrained eye, but it was a symptom of their inadequacy.

  Something that neither of these knights displayed.

  Her eyes turned to other knight who donned the Dreadwood armour. This one, a woman in form-fitting armour, a long whip at her side. Black thorns accompanied by blood-red roses that sprouted along her Phobia’s entire length. Shiver glimpsed eyes of dark red that peered at her from behind her sleek visor.

  Oh… that’s right. I forgot all about Semille. Uh oh.

  “Ahem. Ahh! Was that a spider? No don’t let it get close to me. Oh me? My name is Vale Revenant.”

  Shiver lowered her voice in a hushed tone, speeding through her sentence.

  “No relation to the crazy orphan that stabbed your son.”

  Then… her eyes widened as she recognised the Highlady.

  “Wait… you’re that old lady. At the flower shop. Urgh, of course you are. That’s what I’d do.”

  Highlady Solastra smiled, letting out a small laugh.

  Where Highlord Berevan Brimstone was the image of a Fearshaper of flame, bond to the eternal phoenix. Highlady Solastra was…

  Diminutive. She looked to exceed Berevan’s age by-

  Shiver’s gaped as she saw the Highlady’s hair grow outwards, turning from the shade of silver she had glimpsed in the Town of Eleric to an earthy brown. In a moment, her appearance had transformed, and she looked decades younger.

  Piercing yellow irises glowed in the dark, drilling into her.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Making her feel small.

  “There. A more honest depiction. You’ll have to forgive a... middle-aged lady her meagre entertainment. I was just too eager to meet you. Your reputation precedes you, Shiver.”

  Shiver drew her Phobia into reality, and her eyes were calm.

  For what she had witnessed, was not something an ordinary elf, or even Fearshaper could have achieved. She changed the composition of her body, regrowing her hair, erasing the age lines on her skin.

  Markers of mortality, gone.

  It was as if… she had become one with her Fear.

  She’s reached Serenity.

  She must have.

  She heard a laugh like a tinkling bell, coming from the knight with the thorn whip.

  “Highlady, I like this one.”

  The Highlady smiled.

  “If you’re worried about my son, don’t be. I heard everything from Brimstone’s butler. How he hounded you for a slight to his ego. I believe he got what he deserved. Not to worry… my idiot son is still alive.”

  The Highlady let out a long sigh, as if burdened by the fact.

  How strange it felt to pity a Highlady that strode in Serenity.

  Even as Shiver gave her a commiserating nod, she kept her Phobia drawn before her. She knew that she would be slaughtered in a fight in an instant. From encountering the Terrors in Anhedonia to even their brief brush with the undead Highlord, she was getting really tired of being caught between monsters, far beyond her.

  Could it really be called a loss when she barely even participated?

  “Where are Vale and Caledon? Why didn’t you bring them here with me?”

  The Highlady shifted in her seat.

  The sky shifted with her.

  Shiver’s gaze was wrought to the leaves of the Dawntree which shifted in unison with the Highlady.

  Shiver cocked an eyebrow at her. The woman gave her a self-satisfied grin.

  Show-off.

  “Unlike your companions, you are the only one… undecided about your descent, are you not?”

  Shiver frowned.

  “Let them enjoy the fruits of my garden. You, on the other hand, will need to decide if you wish to partake at all. I wish to expedite the process.”

  Shiver’s expression wavered for a half-second.

  How did she know?

  “After such a long journey, I would not deny you your rest. Please.”

  She gestured behind Shiver. The girl turned warily in the direction of her gesture and froze.

  They should have been ghosts.

  Yet, there they stood, with tears brimming in their eyes.

  Fighting to keep themselves from breaking into a run to greet her.

  Her family.

  ---

  The Knights of the Dreadwood watched in unison as Shiver reunited with her family. Their guests from Brimstone.

  Pov, Marta and Blaze raced forwards to greet her, with cries and laughter, as the Highlady gestured to them to enter her court.

  Clona inclined her head towards her Highlady.

  “I like her… but I don’t see what you do, Highlady. Why you speak so highly of her. She has a simple, mundane, Fear.”

  “Oh Clona… So swayed by the outward appearance of others. How often must I remind you, not to judge others by the object of their Fears. Look.”

  The Knights of the Dreadwood, did as their Highlady commanded. Unlike their other, lesser, peers among whom Semille Flora numbered, the two that joined her beside her throne deserved their title.

  For among their number, they were among the few that walked in their Dread.

  The Dreadwalkers extended their auras of Fear outwards, as gently as they could manage. Each an encapsulation of their Fear, in different form and shape.

  No two Fears, even when they held the same object, were identical, as easy as it was to assume. The differences just began to show a the further into your Fear you delved.

  The Fearshapers of roses and the twilight woods greeted the girl who languished in her mundane, simplistic Fear of ice.

  Then, they understood.

  For she was a girl in Trepidation, so recently descended from Anhedonia.

  A child, who desperately crawled at the very beginning of her descent, learning to walk.

  Yet, the depths of her Fear were like a vast frozen world that bore the arrogance to usurp the warmth of the sun, impervious to the rays that shone down upon it.

  Clona let out a shuddering breath, which turned seamlessly into soft peals of laughter. She saluted the girl with her Phobia of thorns, as the blood of her enemies dripped from its thorns and roses, onto the court floor.

  Her Highlady met their gaze, and they were humbled by a Fearshaper in Trepidation.

  “The waning days of Elucidor draw to a close.”

  ---

  “Shiver, you big idiot, COME HERE!”

  There was no escaping Marta’s embrace. No matter how nimble or agile, the woman always got her way.

  Marta was crying.

  Shiver had always found it strange. The gargantuan woman with a heart bigger than her frame. She gave her love away, so generously. During her journey, there had been a single ray of hope that overshadowed her doubts and Fears.

  Reuniting with her family.

  Shiver had thought them dead. She had grieved them, mourned the hole that would remain, so big it had been destined to consume her.

  It had succeeded.

  “Look at me, Shiv.”

  Marta gently cradled her face gently in her hands. Shiver stared into Marta’s as she trembled, as if trying to carve every line and feature into her memory. This was no shade of hers. Shiver shook as she wept, and shot forwards into Marta’s shoulder, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her tunic.

  Shiver clutched at the vain dream that had come true for her, holding onto it, as if afraid that it would escape her grip.

  She hiccupped, her sobs wracking the air around them.

  Then she wiped the snot trailing from her nose on Marta’s shirt, and the woman let out a booming laugh, with tears in her own eyes.

  “That’s my girl. You’re ok, eh? You’re home.”

  Still, she clung to her in silence, afraid to let go.

  “Hey, my turn!”

  Shiver felt a second figure barrel into her.

  She felt Blaze’s arms curl around her tightly. She laughed, and she nodded to Pov, who stood beside her with a wide grin. She drew him into the hug as well.

  Then she wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t go around tarnishing her image, now could she? Especially in the eyes of her protégé.

  “Little firefly. Tell me-“

  What would her first words of reunion be? The little orphan’s eyes widened in anticipation.

  “Want some feedback-“

  “NO FEEDBACK! I’m done with stealing! I’d rather work in the archaeologist’s guild for the rest of my life than do that again! Or at Valmira’s pleasure house!”

  Shiver grinned, thinking of a stout archaeologist whose coiffed moustache would dance in astonishment at the little firefly’s words. A mortified Marta rushed to pick the girl by the scruff of her shirt, gently chiding her, but Blaze clung on, refusing to let go.

  “See what you’ve turned her into, Shiver? What did I ever do wrong, eh Pov? Any way we could have shown this little demon child the right path?”

  “You’re talking about Blaze… right?”

  “Slim chance, my love.”

  She felt Blaze hiccup in her embrace. The girl was shaking, clinging to her as if afraid that she would take off, and leave them again.

  Shiver smiled, as she settled in with her family once more. She gazed above them, at glowing flowers that bloomed across vines that ran up the walls and over a roof spanning high above them.

  With a deep breath, Shiver felt as if she was striding through a spring that she never thought she would experience again.

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