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For as long as she could remember, Hazel was always fascinated by the myths and folklore she had learned from childhood. Maybe the stories she heard as a child were the reasons why she had such an adventurous spirit.
Even so, Hazel never felt that it was a vice. Every trip that she took always had a tale that captivated her family’s interest, as well as the elaborate postcards she would send. And so the cycle began again, this time with an excursion in the ancestral Celtic lands. Wales, Ireland, and Scotland. The forests, fields, and castle ruins painted a picture of forgotten treasures and serenity.
Upon arrival, it felt as if she was transported to a whole new world. One that still had an underlying sense of the old ways, but merged with the modern day as well. Everywhere she went, Hazel was greeted with a pleasant face. The towns, the taverns, the inns in the rolling country sides, but all bore the same message as the last: beware of the edge of the woods.
An old woman who owned the inn Hazel was residing in offered one last piece of advice. “If ye ever find yerself in that meadow, just sing to the flowers. Least the fae see that you still respect their old ways and their domain.” At first she thought it an odd practice, yet Hazel felt compelled in some way to keep that promise.
Far off in the forest, lay a fae folk of old who had yet to meet this human woman. He had called himself Drystan, a name that he had picked up from the humans of before, when they wore furs and lived in their wooden huts. Ever since he was a younger eldritch being, curiosity was a blessing and a vice for him. The others of his race saw his fraternizations with others, especially the humans who lived at the edge, as a nuisance.
Initially, Drystan paid no mind to them, fascinated by their ways and started to feel infatuated with a young maiden he still remembered from centuries ago. Unfortunately, it ended in the way that all of the fae and nature feared: humans took and took, leaving nothing for others, severing the soul-bonds that kept the balance.
It took years until the tears stopped flowing from his kaleidoscope eyes, and even then there was the dull thud of pain from the fae’s shattered heart. He swore never to break the ranks, or to bare his soul to another. That was until he came across the mortal. Initially he was annoyed and aghast at how bold she was, just intruding into their home.
He was close to striking until he heard the softest noise from her. What was that? Was she singing? It had been so long since he heard a human, let alone their women, sing to the flowers. This mortal just seemed so content and at peace with her surroundings, admiring the trees, fields, and flowers that surrounded her. He stayed his hand, for now, but was hesitant about her presence here.
Over time, he learned the name of the human he was beginning to grow fond of. Hazel. He heard her name when she spoke into a strange box-shaped device, and he soon found that it’s what the mortals referred to her as. It reminded Drystan of the ceremonies the humans held when they used to revere the forest. They believed the tree to be a pillar of wisdom, inspiration, and good luck for them. It had been centuries since Drystan felt the old ways, or love in his heart, yet he couldn’t help but feel a pique of curiosity when he noticed her.
As the days passed, Drystan felt more drawn to this mortal with the hair as golden as the sun and tanned skin. He would see her come out to the fields where he resided, with some rectangular contraption that clicked at random times and a parchment that she would scribble one while looking at the flowers. Just by watching her, he felt that small spark of inspiration as before. He yearned to reach out and connect with this mortal, but felt the underlying fear from before.
He did not want to take the risk again of feeling utterly broken, but he wanted to see. Just see if her heart was different. A thought came into his idea, a test. If a mortal’s heart had good intentions, they could understand the language of nature. As she left the field, he set out to make arrangements.
The next day when Hazel returned to her spot in the field, she noticed an elaborate range of flowers where she normally sat. It was truly a beautiful piece, with hues of every color, one fit for a fine table for celebrations. As she bent down to admire the arrangement, Hazel could’ve sworn she heard whispers emitting from them. She listened closer to the whispers, and it sounded as if they were talking to her about her?
It sounded like a male’s voice, but the voice sounded so innocent in the way it sounded. How he had noticed her for some time, how her name fit so perfectly, and the admiration and respect that she held for the nature that surrounded her. Lift your head and lay your eyes upon me human so that I may finally see you, face to face. Hazel slowly lifted her head and came face to face with the most ethereal creature she could imagine.
Alabaster skin and hair, mixed with tinges of green and eyes that mirrored the colors of a kaleidoscope and stained glass. She felt entranced at the sight of Drystan, and he at her. Maybe this trip was meant to be, a union where two souls could potentially seek companionship with one another. A safe haven, surrounded by the pure beauty and protection of nature.