The Elfstone Goddess

She awoke in a damp, dark forest, knowing neither who she was or how she had come. Her skin was wet, and her hair covered in leaves. The sound of the forest caused her spine to tingle – noises she did not recognize… almost like voices.. the voices of children at play. Were they laughing at her? Surely, I must be a poor sight, she thought. “Can someone help me?” Her voice penetrated the woods like a crash of thunder, but there was no answer. Only more silence. Whoever had been laughing fell silent as well. They are playing games with me, she thought.

She climbed to her feet and began to brush the debris from her hair, straightening her blouse as she shook off the evidence of the forest. How long have I been here? Confusion began to overwhelm her as she tried to recall her memories. It was no use. She had no memories. Her mind was a void. But somehow she knew she was not supposed to be in this place. She was not where she belonged, and it gave her great anxiety.

Lost in her lack of thoughts, life and faint sounds began to return to the forest. She again heard the voices of children; and, for some reason, they sounded familiar to her. “Why do I know that sound?” She spun quickly around to face the direction of the voices, but.. nothing. Wait.. “That is odd,” she whispered, as her eyes focussed on a large, oddly shaped tree in the distance. It was giant and old, and it’s branches formed a canopy around what seemed to be very meticulously laid stones. “That is indeed odd,” she repeated. “I know those stones.”

As she stepped closer to the ancient tree, she became aware of a warm mist rising from the stones. But that was not all. There was a pathway beyond the clearing… and a light coming from the path. She no longer concerned herself with the voices of the forest. Her bare toe touched the edge of the stones, causing the damp moss to crush beneath her skin. The sense of familiarity was much stronger now, and curiosity overtook her.

As she turned the corner of the clearing, the stones became even more defined, forming a distinct pathway leading to steps; and beyond the steps, a patio…

She stopped cold.

As the fog and the mist revealed the source of the light, the lost princess fell to her knees as memories flooded her mind.

The source of the light was her beloved. The long dead, but now risen…

David Elfstone.

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