Through the floating branches, Eibhlin saw a monk standing in the doorway of the monastery. His umber habit blended into the dark, but the white cord around his waist, his shaved head, and his silver-streaked beard caught the light and almost glowed. He stepped out over to the tree. Taking a tendril tenderly between his fingers, he said, “Though she is dangerous, like the Fae itself, I hope you don’t misunderstand this tree. Just as beauty does not always mean safety, so too does danger not always mean evil. This tree protects us and calls to those who are lost, guides them here, where they can find shelter and direction. And I see by your face, child, that she is calling you.”

“But I’m not lost,” said Eibhlin.

“Is that so?” said the monk with a knowing smile. “Well, then I must warn you, for then this tree’s pull shall be all the stronger, for the lost are not the only ones she calls.”

“Who else does she call?” asked Eibhlin, feeling the tree’s leaves brush against her cheek.

“Those who wish to enter the Fae,” said the monk.

Eibhlin’s chest tightened. “But… but I don’t want to go there.”

The monk stared at Eibhlin with dark eyes that made her wish the wind would stop breaking the silver wall between her and the old man. She gripped her kirtle, feeling the keys beneath. In one sense… perhaps she did want to enter the Fae Realm. After all, she had to find Mealla, and if that meant going into the Fae, then so be it. Though she had grown up as a witness of fairy mischief, Eibhlin had never feared fairies and their country. But now….

Eibhlin shivered as she remembered Vi.

She said, “No, I don’t want to enter the Fae. I don’t want to go there, but I have to. Though not here. Not now. Here, now, I would get lost. I must find a different way.”

“I see,” said the monk. “If that is your road, I mustn’t stop you but rather help you on your way. And for that, would you like some rest, dear daughters? I told you, all who come to this tree are guided, whether because they are lost or because the Fae calls to them, and all who come to this monastery are welcome. Come. Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow, we shall see how my sons and I can help you find your way.”

“Your sons?”

“Yes. I am Ormulf, abbot of this monastery,” replied the monk.

“Oh! I-I didn’t realize… um, honorable sir”

The abbot chuckled. “No need for such formality. While you’re here, I am your father.”

At his words, memories of her own father’s anger before she left came into Eibhlin’s mind, but she held her discomfort inside. Outwardly, she said, “Okay. Thank you, Father Abbot.”

He led her into the monastery, saying, “Please be careful on the steps. I apologize. I didn’t have time to light a lamp after I realized you were outside. I worried the tree might tempt you too far if I didn’t hurry. If you will just wait here, I shall go fetch a lam-”

“Father Abbot.”

Eibhlin couldn’t be sure due to the shadows, but she thought that, for a moment, the good father’s smile stiffened. However, the impression passed, and he turned to address another monk carrying a small oil lamp so that the newcomer seemed enveloped in a halo, like the painted saints Eibhlin saw in her village church.

“Brother Callum. We have prayers in just a few hours,” said the abbot. “You should be sleeping.”

The man answered, “Father, the wind kept my mind awake, though my body wished to sleep. In hopes of bringing peace to my thoughts and heart, I rose to pray. Then, I heard voices in the courtyard, and my curiosity overcame me. I apologize.”

“No, don’t be sorry, my son,” replied the father. “If restlessness holds you, then you can help us. This child shall stay the night. Would you go prepare a light meal and ensure the guest room is ready?”

“Yes, Father Abbot.”

The monk’s sandals padded against the stone floor, echoing as he left. The abbot addressed Eibhlin again, “Brother Callum, a good man and no stranger to the order. He was an orphan found and raised by my predecessor and joined the order at an early age. I do fear he is a bit on the overzealous side.”

“He seemed fine,” said Eibhlin.

The abbot only smiled.

The meal was indeed light, just a cup of goat milk and a bit of bread and cheese, but the nearby fire warmed Eibhlin’s bones, and she hadn’t had milk since she had left home. She nibbled her bread as she watched the flames crackle in the hearth. In the back of her mind, she heard the abbot call her but hadn’t understood what he said. She asked for his question again.

“I asked for what reason you’ve come here, my child. By your speech, I know you are of the southern countries, and yet you have come to this place. Perhaps you would tell me why?” said the abbot.

Eibhlin shifted in her seat. Somehow, the way he called her “child” felt so different from Yashul. What was more, the desire to speak the truth bubbled up in Eibhlin, but something twisting in her chest prompted her to choose her words carefully, though she didn’t know why. “I… I am a traveler. As you say, I’m not from here. My home is in Enbár.”

“So far?” Abbot Ormulf said. “What business could a daughter of the green hills have in the Northlands?”

The conflict in her soul returned. She felt urged toward truth, but the strange feeling halved her honesty. “I have relatives up here. My mother came from one of the merged towns, the mining towns where humans and dwarves work together.”

Again, the priest appeared shocked. “One of the merged towns? Near or away from the sea? Near? My child, you have wandered far from your course if you traveled to here from Enbár attempting to reach one of those towns.”

“It wasn’t a direct trip,” Eibhlin said. “I had some other business to take care of, which I did before coming here. I’m just passing through, and really, I need to be on my way tomorrow. As you said, I’ve still got some distance to go.”