The Forest of the Forgotten

The Council of Shadows met in the hollow of an ancient oak tree so massive that its interior could house a dozen people comfortably. Amnity had been here only twice before—once when she'd first been recognized as a healer worthy of official notice, and once when she'd requested permission to gather rare ingredients from the protected groves. Both times, the experience had left her feeling small and overwhelmed by the weight of tradition and authority that seemed to seep from the very walls.

Today, as she approached the tree's entrance in the pre-dawn darkness, she felt different. Still nervous, but resolute in a way that surprised her.

The Council consisted of five figures, each representing a different aspect of Nova's governance. They sat in carved chairs that seemed to grow directly from the living wood of the tree's interior, their faces partially obscured by the play of shadow and filtered light that gave the Council its name. Amnity had never seen them in full daylight—it was said that the Council of Shadows operated in the spaces between certainty and doubt, making decisions that required wisdom beyond what harsh clarity could provide.

"Amnity of the Healing Arts," spoke Councilor Meren, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had guided Nova through decades of change. "You requested an emergency audience. What matter brings you before us with such urgency?"

Amnity straightened her shoulders, drawing strength from the memory of Ellie's grateful smile when she'd offered to help with the investigation. "I wish to request temporary leave from my duties to Nova. I need to travel to another world."

The silence that followed was so complete that Amnity could hear the soft rustling of leaves far above them in the tree's canopy. She'd expected surprise, questions, perhaps concern. She hadn't expected the weight of that silence to feel so judgmental.

"Another world," repeated Councilor Thane, his tone carefully neutral. "May we ask the nature of this journey?"

"It's personal. Someone I care about needs to find answers about their past, and those answers exist in a world that can only be reached through mirror travel." Amnity had practiced this explanation, trying to find a way to be truthful without revealing Ellie's complicated history or Eleazar's secrets.

"Someone you care about," said Councilor Vera, leaning forward slightly. "Would this be Ellie, the ward of Eleazar the Collector?"

The fact that they knew immediately who she meant shouldn't have surprised Amnity—the Council of Shadows made it their business to know the connections and relationships that wove through Nova's communities. But it still made her feel exposed, as if her private feelings were being examined under harsh light.

"Yes."

"And you believe this journey is necessary?" asked Councilor Meren.

"I believe that the person I love is in pain, and that pain comes from not knowing who she truly is. If I can help ease that pain, then yes, I believe it's necessary."

Councilor Dain, who had been silent until now, shifted in his chair. "Mirror travel to unknown worlds is dangerous, child. Especially for someone with no experience in dimensional navigation. You could become lost between realities, or arrive in a world hostile to your very existence."

"I'm aware of the risks," Amnity said, though hearing them laid out so bluntly made her stomach clench with anxiety. "But I'm also aware that some things are worth risking safety for."

"And what of your responsibilities here?" asked Councilor Thane. "You are one of our most skilled healers. The people of Nova depend on your knowledge and your abilities. How can you justify abandoning those duties for a personal quest?"

The question hit harder than Amnity had expected. She thought of the elderly woman at the festival, clutching her fever remedy with such gratitude. Of the children in the lower settlements who relied on her healing draughts. Of all the people who might need her help while she was gone.

"I'm not abandoning anything," she said firmly. "I'm requesting temporary leave. I've trained three apprentices who are capable of handling most common ailments. I've left detailed instructions for brewing the more complex remedies. And I've prepared enough stock of essential medicines to last several months."

"But you cannot guarantee when you'll return," pressed Councilor Vera. "Or if you'll return."

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Amnity felt the weight of their concern, their skepticism, their protective instincts toward Nova and its people. But underneath that, she also sensed something else—a testing quality, as if they were waiting to see how committed she truly was to this course of action.

"No," she admitted. "I can't guarantee that. But I can promise that I'm not making this decision lightly. I've considered the consequences, prepared for the worst-case scenarios, and made arrangements for my responsibilities here. This isn't a whim or an adventure. It's something I need to do."

Councilor Meren studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable in the shifting shadows. "You speak of love as if it justifies any risk, any sacrifice. But love can cloud judgment as easily as it can inspire courage. How do we know you're seeing this situation clearly?"

Amnity took a breath, thinking about everything that had led to this moment—Ellie's pain at the festival, her withdrawn behavior, the way she'd looked when talking about the life she might have lived.

"Because I've seen what not knowing is doing to her," she said quietly. "I've watched someone I care about tear herself apart with questions that have no answers, guilt over a past she can't remember, and fear that she's somehow broken or incomplete. I've seen her pull away from everyone who loves her because she doesn't know if she deserves that love or if it's built on false foundations."

Her voice grew stronger as she continued. "You ask about my judgment, about whether love is clouding my vision. But I think love is what's helping me see clearly. I can't heal her pain with herbs and potions. The only cure for her suffering is truth, and if that truth exists in another world, then that's where we need to go."

The Council members exchanged looks, some unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, Councilor Meren spoke.

"Your request is unusual, Amnity of the Healing Arts. We have rarely granted leave for personal quests to other worlds, especially when those worlds are unknown and potentially dangerous." She paused, and Amnity held her breath. "However, your dedication to your craft and your community has been exemplary. Your preparations for your absence show consideration for your responsibilities. And your reasons, while personal, are not frivolous."

Amnity felt her heart begin to race.

"We grant you temporary leave, with the understanding that you travel at your own risk and that Nova cannot offer aid if you become lost or endangered in other worlds. You will carry with you our hopes for your safe return, but not our protection."

Relief flooded through Amnity so powerfully that she almost swayed on her feet. "Thank you. All of you. I won't disappoint your trust."

"See that you don't," said Councilor Thane, but his tone was gentler now. "And see that you both return safely. Nova will be diminished by the loss of either of you."

As Amnity left the hollow of the ancient oak, stepping back into the gray light of early morning, she felt the full weight of what she'd just committed to settle on her shoulders. She'd officially severed her obligations to Nova, at least temporarily. There was no backing out now, no changing her mind when the reality of interdimensional travel became too frightening.

But as she walked back toward her cottage, where Ellie was probably just waking up and wondering what the day would bring, Amnity found that the weight didn't feel burdensome. It felt like freedom.

The freedom to choose love over safety, adventure over comfort, truth over the pleasant illusions that kept life simple and predictable.

She had work to do—final preparations to make, supplies to gather, courage to summon. Because in a few days, she would be stepping through a mirror into a world that had no place for magic or gentle kindness, armed with nothing but her determination to help the person she loved find peace.

It was terrifying and exhilarating and completely unlike anything she'd ever imagined for herself.

She couldn't wait.