Sanctuary

The village you grew up in was near an ancient forest, one so old and large it had become known as the Myth Forest, for it housed many a magical creature and forgotten ruin.

Usually, villages like yours didn’t survive long near such places. Neither the forest's guardians nor its residing creatures took kindly to humans, and sooner or later, the villages were either starved into abandonment or slaughtered out of existence.

Your home was one of the lucky few, for it had been built along the king’s road, and therefore mercenaries and monster slayers visited frequently. Those people were what kept your village alive by bringing coin and business. The fact that barely any of them ever came back didn’t seem to deter other adventurers or blades for hire from trying their luck.

You had always kept your distance from the forest, as did all the other villagers. The elders had long since stopped warning the outsiders passing through, for no one ever listened. Your home was the last on the road by the Myth Forest, and therefore the last pit stop of those who wanted to venture inside, to bring back spoils and slain beasts for mages and alchemists.

"We have more common sense than them," your mother answered when you asked her about why no one in the village ever walked past that untamed stretch of grassland separating the neat fields from the wild forest. Why no one ever went inside, not even when they had had a bad harvest.

"You don’t return alive," your father added. "The guardians make sure of that, and you’d be a right fool to cross the creatures a forest as old as this one listens to."

"Pay attention to the winds, child," your grandmother said, knitting socks at a steady, swift pace, "the next time one of those hunting groups goes into the forest."

It took less than a fortnight for another group of monster slayers to show up, and that day you kept the windows in your room wide open. You knew what your grandmother had talked about as soon as the sun set.

You had heard howling winds plenty of times, had once seen a storm so terrible it had uprooted trees, and you had heard sharp winter winds whistle through patchy walls.

This was different. This was fury made air, it was violence and ruthlessness, and the forest creaked and groaned like a thousand shrieking and moaning voices. Very faintly, you heard screams so terrified it made all the fine hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slammed the windows shut quickly, heart pounding, and you never again asked about the forest.

You were as determined to ignore the forest and the mythical creatures within as the rest of the village. There was no reason to get close, no reason to think or talk about it as long as your home remained safe and untouched.

Right up until you stumbled across an injured, child curled up near the fields. You had gone to pluck blueberries from the bushes at the edges of the village territory, and you gasped in alarm, hurrying over to the small shape. The little one looked to be a few years younger than you.

"What happened?" you asked, horrified when you noticed the blood and the broken arrow shaft sticking out from their side. You knew enough from the hunters in your village that that was bad. They never let any of you or the other older children play with a bow and arrow without them around.

You stilled when the child lifted their head, and you realized this was no human child. They had bright, spring green eyes and hair like spun copper, and they bared sharp teeth in warning. They tried to push themself up, only to collapse back with a weak cry of pain, shaking all over.

Then the child began to weep as they curled up tighter, trembling arms covering their head, muffling sobs that sounded too resigned for your comfort. As if the kid knew they would die. Your heart clenched as tightly as your fingers held onto your berry basket.

The monster child was going to die if it didn’t get help and there was no way the village would lift a finger to aid it. Everyone was too scared of inciting the wrath of the magical beings and their guardians to touch it.

You glanced over at the forest. It was too far for the child to make by itself, it couldn’t even sit up anymore.

Then you heard calls in the distance, men shouting and hounds barking, and the child flinched and whimpered. You made your decision then and there.

Your basket fell with a muffled thump and you took a deep, bracing breath. You crouched over the child, ignoring the desperately bared teeth. They didn’t even have enough strength left to try to bite or use the small claws you noticed up close.

Putting your hands under the child’s shoulders and knees, you hauled it up, glad to find the little one was rather light, and you hurried away from the hunting party and towards the forest. You were panting and sweating by the time the scent of the forest was strong in your nose and cool winds swept out from between the trees.

The child lifted its head now, eyes wide and staring at the forest, then staring at you, disbelief bright in those leaf-green eyes. You stopped right at the edge of the forest and hesitated. The child couldn’t walk.

"Hello?" you called out. "One of yours needs help! Can you come get them?"

For a long second there was silence, only broken by shouts of hounds drawing closer still and the child flinching in your arms at the noise. Then the wind turned so icy it felt like it cut across your skin, making you wince.

You had to close your eyes as leaves got blown past, and when you opened them, a tall monster maybe four or five years older than you was standing there. One of the guardians.

You didn’t know why you knew it with such clarity, but one look up at those pale-gold eyes and that long, white hair that shimmered faintly like silver in the light let you know exactly what he was. The guardian wore long, black clothes that stood in strong contrast to his pale skin and billowed in the blowing wind.

He was furious.

The child in your arms was quick to rasp out words in a language you didn’t know, and you noticed the way the air around you almost seemed to pause. Then the winds gentled, as did the ominous creaking of the trees.

The guardian locked eyes with you and held out his arms, eyes sharp and dangerous and challenging. Swallowing, your heart pounding and your own hands trembling a little now, you stepped forward until the guardian could take the child from your arms.

He did so with utmost gentleness and a soft, crooning murmur that made the child relax. It looked even smaller now in the arms of someone bigger.

You watched as the guardian shifted his grip to free one hand, and he eased the arrow out of the child’s side, somehow without causing pain. Faint golden light traveled through the pale skin of the guardian, and a moment later, you watched the wound close until not even a scar remained.

The child exhaled and sagged against the guardian’s shoulder, who briefly pressed his cheek against their temple. Then he glanced up ,and after a moment of appraising you, dipped his head the smallest bit. He turned around and left as silently as he had appeared.

A strong but no longer cutting wind pushed at you, a clear signal to return to your village. You did so, taking a longer way to avoid the hunters now searching through the fields. They sounded frustrated, growing anger lacing into their voices.

"What happened?" your mother’s horrified voice made you jump when you returned home, and as she rushed towards you, you realized you had gotten blood all over your clothes.

The story spilled past your lips before you could stop yourself. Your mother stared at you wide-eyed, and even your father and grandmother had gone quiet, both looking up from their tasks. The adults exchanged one long look, silently communicating, before your mother took a deep breath.

"It’s alright, sweetling," she said, gently smoothing her hands over your head in a reassuring manner as she hugged you close. "It’s alright. You probably did good, and that monster might be grateful." She pulled back, framing your face with her hands and her gaze softened, the worry getting smothered down to lurk quietly. "I’m so proud of how kind you are."

That made you smile at last, a great breath of relief sweeping through your chest.

"Still, stay away from the forest," your father cautioned. "Just because you helped one doesn’t mean they’ll like you. Monsters hate humans, never forget that."

You nodded seriously. You weren’t going to be foolish.

The next day, to your surprise, your berry basket was balanced precariously on your windowsill, filled to the brim with blueberries bigger and juicier than any you had plucked near the village.

"Thank you," you called out after hauling the basket inside, and for a moment, you felt foolish about talking to nothing, when a breeze rustled past the window, pushing you back inside.

You brought the basket to your parents and they hesitated, before taking it from your hands.

"We best make the best jam and cakes with these," your grandmother said. "Maybe leave a slice outside in thanks."

"A wild animal or our neighbor’s dog is just going to take it," your father sighed, but a look from his mother made him acquiesce silently.

You left a slice of blueberry cake the size of your palm outside that night and the next morning you woke to flowers on your windowsill. Someone must have handpicked them badly, for the stems all had different lengths.

Still, you put them in a vase, displaying the flowers on the kitchen table. They looked like forest flowers, small but pretty.

It grew quiet after that, no more gifts appearing out of nowhere or being left by you. You started to think less and less about that day until, in the middle of the night, a scratch at your window jolted you out of bed.

A dark shadow was leaned against the corner of your window, claws tapping weakly against the glass. You remembered a thousand different warnings, about monsters luring and mimicking and tricking and trapping. You remained frozen right up until the monster slumped out of view with a groan of pain you just barely heard through the window.

Biting your lip, you hesitantly eased out of bed and approached the window, peering outside. Something humanoid, slim and with long limbs, was crumpled into the kitchen herbs your grandmother had planted beneath your window last year. The way they were slumped made you think they were injured.

"Um, hello?" you whispered as you eased the window open a crack, ready to slam it shut and run yelling for your parents.

"Help," a raspy answer floated up, voice clumsy on the human word. "Help, please?"

You chewed on your lower lip for a moment, then took a deep breath and carefully climbed outside.

It was hard to see the monster’s face this late at night with the sky overcast, though a part of you was glad you couldn’t see what they looked like. They seemed kind of scary, even curled over a heavily wounded leg as they were.

Swallowing past your suddenly dry mouth, you took a deep breath and said, "I’ll help you to the forest."

You reached out, and the monster easily let you grab its arm. Hauling it up was a bit of work, but then it slumped against you, leaning heavily on your shoulders. It was quite a bit taller than you and you felt very unprepared and unfitting for this task. But when you offered to get your parents it hissed, and you quickly shut your mouth.

It was a long, arduous journey to the forest, the monster stumbling with every other step and limping heavily. In the end you were half dragging, half carrying, them and they were barely responsive anymore.

"Help!" you called out as soon as you smelled the forest, tripping over a hole in the ground and hissing as your ankle gave a sharp twinge of pain.

The same guardian as last time stood at the edge of the forest the moment you looked up, and he held out his hands, gesturing and murmuring in his language urgently. He seemed unable to get past the forest line.

You dragged the monster the rest of the way and the guardian swiftly, but surprisingly gently, pushed you aside to take over. You saw a faint glimmer of gold travel through his veins again, and the monster gasped in relief.

The guardian, though shorter, picked the lanky, tall monster up without any trouble and you could just barely make out his inclined head before he vanished into the darkness of the woods. A heavy but warm wind pushed you back towards the village.

Exhaling heavily and wiping sweat from your brow, your muscles burning with exertion, you returned home, glad to find the pain in your ankle fading slowly after a couple of steps.

The next day the herbs under your window had grown to twice their previous size and someone had left a strange, shiny stone on your windowsill. You put it on your shelf, beside the two books your parents had been able to afford.

It wasn’t a particularly pretty stone, but you had been raised better than to spurn a gift, especially if you didn’t even know what it was exactly. It didn’t look like any of the river stones you had found while splashing around.

Your parents were worried when you told them about what had happened, and your father told you quietly later that day, "Be careful, one day a monster is going to trick you. Promise me you’ll be careful."

You nodded and hoped that was the last time an injured creature knocked at your window.

It wasn’t. As the seasons passed in their steady cycles, you found a few more injured monsters, either in the fields, calling out to your from their hiding spots with their last strength, or slumped beneath your window. It didn’t happen often, though; monsters were careful, and few seemed to venture past the forest line in the first place.

The village did eventually find out what you were doing, and there was a lot of arguing and shouting about it, until they grudgingly accepted that what was done was done. Refusing a monster asking for aid now would only incur the wrath of the guardians.

You only ever saw one guardian, and you suspected that he was the one in charge of the part of the forest that faced your home. He always inclined his head in thanks, and you had noticed that the winds had grown gentle around you, that the trees whispered instead of snarled when you approached the forest with an injured monster.

You never went to the Myth Forest without a monster needing aid. You weren’t that foolish, and you still vividly remembered how the trees and winds had raged as they had torn mercenaries apart limb by limb.

You always got gifts for your aid, either by something lying on your windowsill or other boons. One year, your grandmother had fallen deathly ill, but she had woken perfectly healed after you had helped an imp home, your father hugging you and whispering a tearful thank you.

The village kept your dealings secret from the mercenaries as well, swiftly ushering their talkative drunks away and sending scathing glares to a mean boy you had accidentally insulted who tried to get back at you any way he could.

You grew older and stronger as your life passed in this manner, and by the time you reached adulthood, you could haul even fully grown monsters to the forest with little trouble, unless they were too big. There had been one time where a rock troll had lain bleeding out in front of your house, and there had been no way you could have helped him on your own.

The entire village had helped with that one, fetching draft horses and building a stretcher to drag him along, everyone lending a hand to haul him onto it. They had sent you to the forest alone however, the horses laboring, and the villagers had watched pensively until you had returned safe and sound.

The guardian had grown into adulthood as well, and he stood strong and tall like the mightiest warriors you had seen passing through your village. Strangely enough, he seemed as cautious about you as you felt about him. Aside from taking monsters from you, he never stepped close enough to touch, though you had noticed him lingering recently.

You were busy plucking weeds from your family’s vegetable garden when a commotion at the village entrance drew your attention. A group of monster slayers strutted down the road, yelling to make the tavern ready, and your breath caught in your lungs when you saw what they had in tow.

They dragged a dryad behind them, a heavy iron collar locked shut around her throat and she was bleeding and swaying, barely conscious.

The elders were furious, and the tavern refused them entry.

"We will not be part of this," you heard Ava, the tavern owner, protest sharply as the leader of the group tried to first cajole then intimidate her. "Move on, now, or uncollar that dryad."

You watched nervously from the sidelines as it nearly came to blows. The entire village banding together was what ultimately made the mercenaries back down. They staked the dryad to the ground outside the village and returned, angry, and demanding to at least be fed and served beer the entire night for their trouble.

As soon as they went into the tavern, Ava sent you a wide-eyed look, gaze briefly flicking to where they had tied the dryad down. The second the door was closed behind her and the mercenaries, you were on the move.

The dryad was in a bad state when you reached her, a new cut on her shoulder that was bleeding sluggishly. She didn’t react when you untied her, though you couldn’t remove the locked collar without help.

Hoisting her over your shoulders the way the hunters carried entire bucks back to the village, you made for the forest.

Halfway there you heard a shout, and turning around to glance back, your eyes widened when you saw a mercenary standing outside, dick in hand where he had peed against the side of the tavern, his face turned towards you. Inanely, you couldn’t help but think how angry it made Ava to have people piss on her tavern.

Your heart leapt into your throat, and then you were running as fast as you could, nearly tripping as the man hollered for his friends, tucking himself away and sprinting after you.

It was a minor miracle that you made it to the shadow of the forest before he caught up to you, tackling you to the ground. The impact was painful, leaving bleeding scrapes across your face and arms as you ended up with a mouthful of dirt and dry twigs.

The dryad went tumbling off your shoulders and landed so close to the forest. As a hand grabbed the back of your head to yank it up, you saw the guardian pacing at the forest line, snarling and rumbling, a menacing chill spreading through the air.

Something dark began to cover the ground, and all the roots started to shift and twist, churning the earth, while the branches began to creak and groan, snapping against each other in a growing cacophony of noise.

The mercenary, half kneeling over you, had stilled in fright, his grip on your hair loosening enough for you to jolt forward, stretching your hand out and unseating the burly man in the process. You managed to give the dryad the last shove she needed to roll over and her arm was flung out, her hand right within the forest’s territory.

The guardian pulled her into his arms within a second and the mercenary snarled as he scrambled for you, a fist hitting the back of your head as you tried to get up, hard enough to briefly make you black out.

"You dare," he snarled as he flipped you onto your back, hands closing around your throat. His eyes were wide, and you were half aware of the forest growing ever more violent, the guardian snapping out in a snarling voice.

Even with all those years of lugging injured monsters around, the mercenary knew fighting and killing far better than you ever would, and your strength couldn’t stand up to his skills.

Fingers scrabbling uselessly at his arms and wrist, your hands slipped as you tried to breathe, panic and pain making it hard to think. Right up until your hand hit against the hilt of the dagger at his side. You weren’t even thinking when you pulled it free and stabbed blindly. It was nothing but pure luck that the blade sank solidly into soft flesh instead of missing completely or just causing a shallow cut.

The man roared, letting go to flinch away from the blade sunk into his side. You sucked in a breath of air while he wheezed in pain, fingertips brushing the hilt of the dagger. You had managed to shove the entire thing into his flank.

You scrabbled backwards, trying to get your legs out from beneath him, and he lunged for you a second too late. Strong, warm hands grabbed your arms, and you were pulled back against a firm chest covered in black cloth, roots reaching out to tuck your legs beyond the forest line.

The mercenary stopped, not daring to follow any further. He snarled in anger and staggered to his feet, clutching at his bleeding side without removing the dagger. Behind him, at the end of the village, you saw his friends running to catch up, some still buckling weapon belts around their hips.

The guardian rumbled something into your ear, pulling you a little further away. It felt as though he was half sheltering you with his body, and you were too dizzy and aching, still gasping for air, to do much more than let him hold you, your legs shaking.

The dryad was healed and the collar lay broken, cracked open, but she was still weak, and you saw roots curling around her, gently and steadily pulling her beneath the earth. A relieved exhale escaped her just as she vanished, a smattering of small pink flowers blooming in her stead.

The guardian adjusted his grip, lifting you up against his chest, his arms under your shoulders and knees. He stepped back further as the rest of the mercenaries rushed to join their wounded friend. He walked a few steps and gently set you down against a tree.

Calloused fingertips tipped your head up, and you saw him frown as he examined your neck and scratched up face. A moment later, gold glowed along his skin, and it felt like being bathed in sunlight. Like getting the best, most comforting hug when you felt lonely, like a warm blanket after a long, cold day, with something delicious cooking in the kitchen.

You felt boneless when the guardian pulled back, all your pains and aches and dizziness gone. He turned around, pale-golden eyes fixed on the mercenaries right at the border of his home.

A root gently tugged at your wrist, and you staggered to your feet, letting the trees guide you away. You had no desire to see the following carnage, and you quickly clapped your hands over your ears when you heard a warning, deep growl from the guardian.

You couldn’t drown out the raging trees and howling winds, which somehow didn’t touch you, but you did drown out the screams. Or maybe you couldn’t hear them over the forest’s rage.

You sat behind a tree wider than the largest man and waited, eyes squeezed shut and hands clasped tightly over your ears. A touch at the tip of your boot made you open your eyes and lower your hands.

The guardian was crouched in front of you without making you feel crowded, and he reached out just far enough to tap your toes with his fingertips. There was a cut in his clothes along his chest and a bit of smeared blood, but whatever injury he might have sustained had likely healed immediately.

There were, however, some dark stains on his clothes that you weren’t going to examine any further. If he had gotten blood on his hands, he must’ve cleaned them before coming to you, for they looked perfectly clean.

He pulled back and spoke softly, and it was only then that you noticed the tears on your face and the tremble in your limbs. Your heart was pounding, and you slowly focused on your surroundings, finding the forest quiet and gentle once more.

The guardian still spoke softly, a steady cadence that had a soothing quality to it. When your breathing slowed, he offered a tentative, hesitant smile.

You had no idea why, but that made you break down crying, the realization of just how narrowly you had escaped death slamming into you with full force. The guardian looked alarmed, leaning back and splaying his hands out to his side to show he was unarmed and meant no harm.

You forced yourself to calm back down, taking shuddering breaths that gradually deepened. You had scrunched up into a small ball, and you were still shaking. You just wanted to go back home, but a part of you was irrationally scared to find the mercenaries waiting for you.

Wiping your tears, you sniffled and glanced at the guardian. "Can you bring me to the edge of the forest?"

When he tipped his head, a look of chagrinned, regretful confusion on his face, you pointed at yourself, then waved questioningly behind him. His expression cleared, and he got to his feet, holding out his hand. You took it after a moment of staring at it in surprise.

He pulled you upright and let go, stepping away and glancing back to make sure you’d follow. It didn’t take long before the forest lightened, and you saw your village beyond the trees and fields. The only trace left of the battle with the mercenaries was churned up dirt and dark, damp stains.

You wondered if the roots had dragged the bodies into the earth as surely as the dryad had gotten pulled beneath for safety. You wondered if that was what made the forest so dangerous and near sentient. If it had been fed with enough blood to make sap run red.

You stepped past the edge of the forest, the trees still whispering gently and the breeze at your back was warm and near supportive. You heard people calling your name from the village, the frantic voices of your parents and some louder shouts, trying to locate you.

You briefly glanced back and to your surprise, the guardian was still there, watching you leave. He offered another small smile, this one apologetic and grateful in equal measure. Then he bowed. It wasn’t his usual inclined head, but a full-on bow.

The breeze tugged you onward before you knew how to respond, and you walked away, steps turning faster and faster until you were running home, right into the waiting arms of your parents.

They fretted over you, brushing dirt and leftover blood away, to find undamaged and unmarked skin beneath. After you got cleaned up and ushered into the tavern, and a hot drink was pressed into your hands, you managed to tell the village what had happened. Everyone looked angry and worried.

"It’s time those mercenaries don’t come here anymore," Ava hissed. "The next time, they might actually kill you."

"We can’t stop them," one of the elders sighed. "We’re not trained fighting folk. A large enough group of warriors could just...wipe us out."

Tense, unhappy silence spread and you just closed your eyes, wanting the day to be over. Your parents ushered you home, where your grandmother waited with a calming tea and lavender oil to rub onto your temples, and they all stayed awake until you managed to fall asleep.

The next morning nothing was on your windowsill and seemingly nothing had changed, but the moment you stepped outside, ready to work, a breeze tugged at your sleeves. It tugged you towards the forest.

You hesitated and turned to exchange a look with your grandmother, who had left the house with you. She too had felt the wind brush past her. She looked towards the forest, frowning, then hummed.

"Might as well," she said, and you followed the wind. It guided you gently and without hurry until you saw the guardian waiting between the trees, at which point the breeze dissipated. The trees were whispering in a sort of light melody that sounded welcoming.

The guardian spoke softly, then halted and looked frustrated before he held his hands out. A delicate necklace was draped across his fingers. It looked like it had been woven out of moonlight shimmer on dark water, a single small gem dangling from it. The gem was the same pale-gold color as his eyes.

You hesitantly stepped close enough to hold out your hands, and he deposited the necklace on your palm, the brush of his fingertips warm. He smiled encouragingly and pointed at his throat, then nodded at the necklace.

You had heard plenty of stories about enchanted items, how evil wizards charmed hapless princesses into loving them, how rouge mages cursed selfish kings and playful fairies tricked naive travelers.

But you trusted that the guardian meant you no harm, not after all that had happened and that you had done for the beings within the forest. You carefully put on the necklace, and he waited until it settled around your throat, your hands falling away, before he opened his mouth.

"Can you understand me now?" he asked, and you inhaled sharply, eyes growing wide. An excited grin broke out across his face, revealing fangs and a dark blue tongue. "You can! I can finally thank you properly for all your help."

You needed a moment to properly process everything. "But you already thanked me, I got a lot of gifts."

He tipped his head to the side, his long, white hair falling over his shoulder in a shiny wave that looked nearly silvery. "Those were gifts from the monsters you aided. I cannot leave, so I haven’t been able to thank you."

He reached up, wrapping a strand of white hair around his fingers and looked a little apologetic. "I didn’t trust you for the longest time either," he said softly. "Humans have done nothing but hunt and hurt those under my protection. I wondered if you were going to pretend to be our friend, to earn our trust and then betray it."

He offered a small smile. "But I learned that you are...good."

You were still marveling at the fact that you could properly speak with the guardian and you offered a small shrug as you admitted, "I didn’t trust you either."

"But now, you do?" the guardian asked, a hopeful shine to his eyes, and when you offered a nod, he smiled sweetly. "I am glad."

He then dug into the pockets of his long clothes, emerging with a wrapped bundle. "I have years of gratitude to catch up on," he answered, and when you protested, he held the bundle out and spoke, softly, "Please, I insist. It is only right."

You took it, finding the bundle was rather heavy, and unwrapped it under his watchful, hopeful gaze. Inside laid a bowl carved out of some black, shining stone. Obsidian, you realized with startled surprise.

"I made it," the guardian offered. "I got a fairy you once helped to enchant it for me. Whatever you put inside will stay fresh for as long as it rests within."

Oh, that was a massively useful and very thoughtful gift. "Thank you."

He sent you an odd look. "No, I am thanking you. I hope you like it."

"It’s very pretty," you said, turning the bowl over in your hands. It was perfectly polished and the edges were decorated with a fascinating pattern. It was rather heavy, though. "And useful. Tha-, um, I like it. A lot."

He smiled again at that, and you marveled at how nice he looked when he wasn’t serious. In all fairness, you usually met him when you brought injured monsters to him, so there hadn’t been much occasion for joy. Especially with the language barrier.

"Why the necklace?" you asked as you rewrapped the bowl, carefully keeping it in the cradle of one arm.

"I cannot learn your language, nor can you learn mine without an invitation," he said. "It’s an oath we guardians take when we decide to protect our forests. We cannot leave and we need to extend an invitation to be understood by those who aren’t fellow mysticals."

Huh, that was pretty curious.

"Would you like to meet them?" the guardian asked. "The mysticals you saved? Many have wished to speak with you, but I felt it unwise to venture close to your dwelling while you and other humans were awake."

"The villagers are pretty nice," you answered. "They’ve been protecting and helping me."

The guardian looked thoughtful, then extended a hand in silent invitation. You took it and his fingers closed warm and gentle around yours, before he lead you into the woods.

Some kind of magic must be involved, for you traveled too far in too short a time, arriving at a dwelling within a handful of moments.

You just knew you had set foot deep into the forest, the trees around you unfathomably old. The monsters were excited to see you, chattering and asking questions and thanking you.

Despite trying to refuse, you ended up leaving with your arms laden with gifts, the guardian bringing you back to the edge of the forest just in time for dinner.

"Come visit us again," he said and shook his head when you offered to give back the necklace. "It is yours. You are now as welcome in these woods as all other mysticals are."

He bowed, smiling, his hair spilling over his shoulders. It made you itch to tuck it behind his ears, to see if they might be round like yours or pointed like those of fairies.

"Safe travels," he wished you and when you left, he watched you until you reached the village safely. When you glanced back, you could just barely make out his wave, then he was gone, a playful little breeze ruffling through your hair a moment later.

The villagers were baffled but thoughtful when you told them what had happened. Over the next days, as you worked and sometimes visited the guardian, who was always waiting at the forest line by the time you arrived, a few other people dared to venture towards the forest.

They never stepped inside, but they said hello and after a while, a few monsters were coaxed out. The guardian watched over it all and you saw a few other mysticals drifting along the forest edge, only staying calm because your guardian was so unconcerned.

Before you knew it, monsters visited regularly, bringing things for trade and learning the human language and chatting with the townsfolk.

Slowly, the clientele of mercenaries started to vanish in response, strangely enough. Now, scholars and professors traveled to visit, to speak with monsters and fill books and scrolls with all the new things they learned.

Some time later, you heard how people fought in the capital to have monsters recognized as sentient and have them put under some kind of protection.

You spent half your time in the forest now, learning how to swim in lakes so deep and large something massive lived at the bottom, never coming close to the surface during the day. Kelpies let you ride on their backs, fairies helped you fly, and trolls showed you their impressively carved caves.

You learned how to weave the most beautiful baskets from dryads, and you always left with flowers woven into your hair.

And all the while, the guardian was there if you asked him to accompany you. He seemed to enjoy spending time with you, filled with endless questions about the world outside his forest.

Slowly, a stray touch here and there became two, and his fingertips coasted along yours, questioningly, until you touched him back. He smiled and let you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. They were pointed like a fairy’s, after all.

"What if we made your territory bigger?" you asked one day as you laid in a meadow, your head pillowed on his thigh as he wove some of his magic into your hair, leaving shimmering traces behind in the air.

He paused, his head tipping to the side, and now you knew that it was his way of expressing curious confusion.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"You can’t leave what is yours," you said. "That is the whole deal about being a guardian right, so what if your territory grew?"

His fingers stilled, lightly touching your temples. He leaned forward a bit, and his eyes were a brighter, more intense gold now. "Would your village be willing to welcome me?"

"If it means we get rid of the mercenaries for good, yes. Besides, they’ve grown very fond of the mysticals."

His eyes glowed brighter, and he cupped your cheek with one hand, fingertips resting against the edge of your jaw. He leaned forward to lightly press his lips against the tip of your nose, before resting his forehead against yours for a long moment.

"Plant these if you are certain," he said when he accompanied you back to the edge of the forest, holding out a small pouch. "I’ll know when you do, and I can make them grow. Once they are tall enough, they will mark the new end of this forest."

You tucked the pouch into a pocket and got on your tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek. He smiled when you pulled back, restrained anticipation making his eyes brighter. He hoped those seeds would get planted, but he would not force or demand it.

It made your heart swell with warmth and affection, and a cheerful breeze accompanied you all the way back home.

The next day, after a lengthy debate within the village, the seeds were planted. Seedlings sprouted within the hour, and every day the trees grew and grew, from saplings to willowy little trees.

And at last, as they stood tall and strong, your guardian set foot into a human village for the first time in his life. He was welcomed with smiles instead of fear, the villagers cheerful, and some scholars staring openly at him, hoping to ask him questions.

Your family invited him to dinner, and he brought gifts for all of them and sat at the table with you, bright with eagerness to try their cooking.

When evening came, there was no need for you to separate. He was curious when he sat down on your bed, immediately flopping over with a delighted little noise.

"You have a great bed too in the forest," you reminded him, amused and unbearably fond, when he squished your soft pillow before closing his eyes and burying his face into it.

"It doesn’t have you in it, though," he answered, moving his head enough to speak. "Your energy is everywhere here. This is your home, and it shows." He opened his eyes, and they were glowing softly. "I will build us a home like this one, right in this village. That is how it’s done properly, yes?"

You smiled and sat down beside him, reaching out to brush some of his soft, silvery-white hair back. "If that’s what we want to do, then yes, it is the proper way."

He grinned, showing off his fangs. "Is it too early to carve a ring out of a piece of the tree I made my guardian oath beneath?"

Your breath caught in your chest. The oath trees were priceless to the guardians, and they were ancient and big and had soaked up enough magic to become more than a little magical themselves. The guardians never offered a piece of them lightly.

"I never thought I would want to speak another vow in my lifetime," he said quietly, reaching up to touch the side of your face, his gaze so warm and soft and loving it made your heart melt. "I wish to give you one that is just as important. Will you accept?"

And there was really only one answer when you loved him as much as you did, as deep and steady as the forest, having been given the time to take root properly, to grow into something solid and lasting.

"Yes, if you accept a vow of my own in return," you answered.

His smile was worth more than all the gold in the world, and you grinned back just as brightly. Then you were hugging him and grinning as he peppered kisses all over your face.

And if all the plants were greener than ever from that day on, if the water from the wells was perfectly clear, and all winds ever in favor of your home, well, you knew why.

When, a month later, the message came that monster hunting was now officially outlawed, you celebrated the right and proper way: by exchanging vows beneath a tree so large it sheltered all your friends and family beneath its boughs and so old it bled red like blood, a new ring resting on your finger, warm and smooth and humming with magic.