Humidity filled their lungs as they began to pushed their way deeper into the Northern Bog. The murky water squelched beneath their feet, each step a reminder of the treacherous terrain. Moss hung from twisted branches, casting eerie shadows in the dim light, while the incessant croaking of unseen frogs and the buzz of insects filled the air like a haunting symphony. Zuzu's absence weighed heavily on their hearts, a reminder of the sacrifices they had already made to reach this point.
“Are we sure this is the right way?” Draska asked, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting the Dark Deceivers to emerge from the shadows at any moment. Her voice quivered with uncertainty, mingling with the moisture-laden air.
Malice, leading the trio, paused to scan the fog-laden landscape. “This is what our families told us. The witch lives in these parts; we need her help to continue. Keep your senses sharp.”
Pluto, ever the optimist, piped in, “Maybe she’ll have something to eat! I could really use a good meal right about now.” The thought of food brought a faint smile to their faces, a brief respite from the tension that gripped their hearts.
As they trudged onward, the oppressive atmosphere began to shift. The air grew cooler, and the sounds of the bog faded into an almost unnatural silence. A path of stepping stones emerged, leading them toward a clearing enveloped by towering trees. It was an unexpected contrast to the thick underbrush and murky waters that had defined their journey thus far.
In the center of the clearing stood a hut, its structure peculiar yet oddly inviting. Twisted branches spiraled upward, forming a natural roof that was adorned with vibrant, luminescent flowers. Lush vines wrapped around the wooden beams, and smoke curled lazily from a chimney made of stones, filling the air with the enticing aroma of herbs and spices. Malice felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. Perhaps this witch was indeed the ally they desperately sought.
“Look!” Pluto exclaimed, pointing at the door, which appeared to be ajar. “Let’s go inside!”
“Wait,” Malice cautioned, raising a hand. “We don’t know what to expect. We should be careful.” Draska nodded, her eyes darting around the clearing, sensing the weight of the unknown.
Taking a deep breath, Malice approached the hut, her heart racing. As she reached for the door, a soft voice drifted from within, rich and melodic. “Come in, dear ones. I’ve been expecting you.”
The voice wrapped around them like a warm embrace, and despite their reservations, they stepped inside. The interior of the hut was just as enchanting as its exterior. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of shimmering potions, dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and odd trinkets that glimmered in the flickering candlelight. The air was thick with the scent of incense, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.
In the center of the room stood D'arabella, the witch of the Northern Bog. Her hair cascaded in wild waves, a silver mane that seemed to shimmer with starlight. She wore a flowing robe woven from deep greens and browns, blending seamlessly with her surroundings. Her eyes, wise and bright, held a depth that made Malice feel both comforted and exposed.
“Welcome, children of the shape,” D'arabella greeted, her voice a soothing melody. “I sensed your arrival even before you set foot in the bog. You seek passage and protection, do you not?”
“Yes, we do,” Malice replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within her. “We’re being hunted by the Dark Deceivers, and we need your help to find the portal our families spoke of.”
D'arabella studied them for a moment, her gaze piercing yet kind. “The journey you have undertaken is fraught with peril. You carry the weight of your friends and families upon your shoulders. But to pass through my domain, you must first understand the price of my aid.”
“What do you require?” Draska asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Ah, dear child,” D'arabella said, her smile revealing a hint of mischief. “The price is not always gold or jewels. I seek a memory—something precious to you, a piece of your spirit that you are willing to part with for your passage.”
“A memory?” Pluto echoed, his brow furrowing. “What kind of memory?”
D'arabella’s gaze softened. “A moment of joy, a cherished experience that has shaped who you are. It will not be lost forever, but it will serve as a bond between us. In exchange, I will grant you safe passage through the bog and the knowledge you seek.”
Malice's heart raced. The thought of giving up a part of herself filled her with dread, yet she understood the necessity. They had already sacrificed so much; what was one more thing in the face of their mission? “I’ll go first,” she said, her voice steady. “I have a memory I can part with.”
As she focused on the moment—a sun-drenched afternoon spent with her family by the lakeside, laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the water—she felt a warmth envelop her. The memory shimmered like a fragile glass ornament before slipping from her grasp. A faint glow escaped her, intertwining with D'arabella’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you, child,” D'arabella said, her tone reverent. “And now, who will follow?”
Draska stepped forward, her expression resolute. “I will share mine.” She summoned a memory of her first flight as a shapechanger, soaring through the skies, the wind whipping through her hair. As she released it, a flicker of sunshine brightened the room, encapsulating her joy.
Pluto hesitated, glancing between his friends. “I… I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, his voice trembling.
“You must,” Malice urged gently. “We need this, Pluto. We need your strength.”
With a deep breath, Pluto stepped forward, recalling a time when he had made his first friend in their village, a bond forged in innocence and laughter. He released the memory, feeling a bittersweet pang as it left him, but also a lightness in knowing he was contributing to their cause.
D'arabella smiled, her eyes glimmering with approval. “You have all made brave choices. I will keep your memories safe, and in return, I shall grant you the protection of the bog. But heed my warning—the darkness is relentless, and they will follow.”
Just as the weight of her words settled over them, a chilling howl echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down their spines. The witch’s expression shifted, and a look of urgency crossed her features. “You must leave now. The Dark Deceivers are near. I will hold them back as long as I can, but you must hurry.”
With no time to waste, the trio exchanged glances, determination igniting their spirits. They knew their path would not be easy, but they had gained an ally in D'arabella, and with her aid, they would press on toward their fate. Together, they dashed out of the hut, the shadows of the bog swirling behind them, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
