The Forest of the Forgotten

The Great Meadow transformed as the sun set, blooming into something magical under the light of Nova's full moon. Dozens of vendors had spread their wares along winding paths marked by glowing crystal lanterns, creating a maze of wonder that drew visitors deeper into the celebration. The air hummed with laughter, music, and the gentle chime of wind bells hanging from every stall.

Amnity's booth was perfectly positioned near the center of the meadow, her healing potions catching the moonlight and casting rainbow patterns across the wooden display table. She'd dressed carefully for the evening—a flowing dress in deep green that brought out her eyes, her hair braided with small silver bells that chimed softly when she moved. She looked beautiful, festive, ready for the romantic evening she'd been dreaming of for months.

Ellie, standing beside her in a simple blue dress that Amnity had picked out, looked like she was attending a funeral.

"Try the honey wine," Amnity suggested for the third time, holding out a cup of the golden liquid that sparkled with its own inner light. "It's from the northern settlements, and it's supposed to be incredible this year."

Ellie accepted the cup but barely sipped it, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd as if looking for threats or escape routes. The easy joy that usually lit up her face at festivals was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the same controlled wariness she'd worn in the city.

A elderly woman approached their booth, her gnarled hands reaching for one of Amnity's fever-reducing draughts. "My grandson's been sick for days," she said, her voice heavy with worry. "The healers in town say it's just a seasonal thing, but..."

"This will help," Amnity assured her, wrapping the bottle carefully in soft cloth. "Give him three drops in warm tea, twice a day. He should be feeling better by morning."

The woman's face lit up with relief as she pressed coins into Amnity's palm. "Bless you, dear. You're doing important work."

Ellie watched the exchange with a detached expression, as if observing strangers conducting business in a foreign language. When the woman walked away, clutching her precious healing draught, Amnity turned to Ellie with bright eyes.

"Did you see her face? That's why I do this, why I spend weeks gathering ingredients and brewing potions. To help people, to make them feel hope again." She gestured to her display of glowing bottles. "This is what matters, Ellie. This connection, this community."

"I see it," Ellie said quietly. But her tone suggested she was seeing something entirely different—perhaps calculating how much profit Amnity was making, or wondering why anyone would trust remedies from someone they barely knew. The cynical thoughts felt foreign in her head, but she couldn't shake them.

Music drifted across the meadow from the central dancing area, where couples swayed under strings of fairy lights. The melody was sweet and nostalgic, the kind of song that usually made Ellie want to dance until her feet hurt.

"Should we..." Amnity started, then trailed off as she saw Ellie's expression. "Or we could look at the other vendors? There's a woman from the eastern settlements who makes the most beautiful jewelry."

They wandered through the festival together, but apart. Amnity pointed out wonders with forced enthusiasm—crystallized flowers that chimed like bells, scarves that changed color with the wearer's emotions, books that wrote themselves based on the reader's dreams. Ellie nodded and made appropriate sounds, but her mind was elsewhere.

She kept thinking about the city, about the way strangers had moved past each other without seeing, without caring. About how people there bought things they didn't need with money they'd earned from jobs they hated, all while living lives that felt somehow more real than this gentle fantasy of community and magic.

"Ellie?" Amnity's voice cut through her brooding. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

They'd stopped in front of a booth selling musical instruments, and Amnity was holding a small flute carved from what looked like crystallized moonlight. The vendor, a young man with kind eyes, was explaining how the instrument would play different melodies depending on the player's mood.

"I'm sorry," Ellie said automatically. "It's beautiful."

Amnity set the flute down carefully, her movements sharp with frustration. "We need to talk."

She led Ellie away from the crowds, toward the edge of the meadow where the festival lights gave way to the soft darkness of the forest. Here, the music became distant, the laughter muffled by trees and growing space.

"This isn't working," Amnity said, turning to face Ellie directly. "I asked you to be my date, and you said yes, but you're not actually here with me. You're somewhere else entirely, thinking about things I can't see and feeling things you won't share."

Ellie opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again. The honest hurt in Amnity's voice cut through her defensive numbness like a blade.

"I don't know how to be here," she admitted finally. "I don't know how to pretend everything is normal when my entire life has been turned upside down. I don't know how to enjoy honey wine and dancing when I just found out that everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie."

"Then don't pretend," Amnity said fiercely. "Don't smile and nod and act like you're fine when you're clearly falling apart. Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling. Let me help you carry some of this weight instead of shutting me out."

Ellie stared at her, this beautiful, earnest girl who had spent weeks preparing for tonight, who had asked her on a date with such hope and vulnerability. Who deserved so much better than a broken person who couldn't even appreciate the magic happening all around them.

"What if I can't come back from this?" Ellie asked quietly. "What if learning the truth about where I came from changes me so fundamentally that I can't be the person you fell in love with anymore?"

Amnity was quiet for a long moment, considering the question seriously. Around them, the festival continued its gentle celebration, but here in their small pocket of darkness, the world felt suspended, waiting.

"Then I'll fall in love with the person you become," Amnity said finally. "But I can't love someone who won't let me see them. I can't build something real with someone who's hiding behind walls."

She reached out and took Ellie's hands, her fingers warm against Ellie's cold skin. "I know you're scared. I know everything feels uncertain right now. But pushing me away isn't going to make any of this easier."

Ellie felt something crack in her chest, some tight knot of control and fear loosening just slightly. "I keep thinking about the family I never knew," she whispered. "About the life I was supposed to have. And I feel guilty for mourning something I can't even remember, and angry at Eleazar for taking it from me, and terrified that maybe he was right to do it."

"That's a lot to carry alone," Amnity said gently.

"I don't want to burden you with it. You have your own life, your own work, your own dreams. You shouldn't have to fix my problems."

"I'm not trying to fix your problems," Amnity said. "I'm trying to love you through them. There's a difference."

They stood together in the soft darkness, hands clasped, while the sounds of celebration drifted around them. Slowly, carefully, Ellie let herself lean into Amnity's warmth, let herself accept the comfort being offered.

"I'm sorry I ruined our date," she murmured against Amnity's shoulder.

"You didn't ruin anything," Amnity said, stroking Ellie's hair. "But maybe next time, instead of pretending to be okay, you could just tell me you're not ready for festivals and dancing. We could have spent the evening talking, or sitting quietly, or doing whatever you actually needed."

Ellie pulled back to look at her. "And you would have been okay with that?"

"I'd rather have an honest evening with the real you than a perfect evening with someone pretending to be you," Amnity said simply.

From the central meadow, the music shifted to something slower, more intimate. Couples would be drawing closer now, swaying together under the stars. It was exactly the kind of romantic moment Amnity had imagined when she first thought about asking Ellie to be her date.

"Do you want to go back?" Ellie asked. "To the dancing? We could try to salvage some of the evening."

Amnity smiled, and for the first time all night, it reached her eyes. "Actually, I think I'd rather stay here with you. The real you. Even if she's complicated and hurting and figuring things out."

So they sat together at the edge of the meadow, close enough to hear the festival but far enough to feel alone with each other. They talked quietly about everything and nothing—Ellie's fears about her identity, Amnity's dreams for her healing work, the way the moonlight made the forest look like something from a fairy tale.

It wasn't the perfect romantic evening Amnity had planned, but as Ellie gradually relaxed against her shoulder and began to share the thoughts she'd been holding so carefully private, it felt like something better.

It felt real.