Stumper took the empty bowl and left her to rest, something she had no intention of doing. She might have been sure that Stumper was her friend now, but that still left too many questions: was Gaea able to cast her sight through her? Why hadn't she mentioned it earlier? Was Wallflower going to be the same? Just how much was Gaea hiding?
She took a deep breath as she rolled over onto her stomach; she needed answers more than rest now. Exhaling as she closed her eyes and cast her sight into the aether, she prepared to find them.
Vine, vine, grass, grass, fern, moss, fern, moss, flower, tree...
Neither Stumper nor Gaea had given her a name for this place, the realm where she chose where to cast her senses; a few names had come to her mind, but eventually she settled on thinking of it as "the aether." It felt like a sea of darkness, islands of intelligence occasionally breaching the dim surface. When Stumper had first given her her markings, she'd almost completely lacked control, throwing herself into the minds of the forest's flora without understanding or restraint. She shivered at the memory of the horrors that lack of control had shown her, the horrible piping still dimly audible to her ears.
Fortunately, her control had greatly improved, as had her understanding of the aether; she was able to tell what mind each island belonged to, and enter or pass them by as she wished. It was somewhat slow, but better that than the uncontrollable speed of that first day.
She entered the tree's mind, and looked deep into the rings of its memory, searching for... What was she looking for? Would the tree have even been around when Stumper accepted Everfree's 'gift?' Would it know anything about Gaea's plans?
She withdrew back into the aether, her influence fading from the tree like a flitting thought. Her mind scowled; where could she find the answers she needed? What would know anything about what Gaea was doing? She strained in thought...
...and unwittingly hurled herself into the memory of another mind, this one a fern's.
Well, mind wasn't the right word. "Intelligence," "brain," "perspective," those were more accurate: plants weren't sapient, but there was an intelligence in them, as fascinating in its own way as her own. It seemed more physical, more concerned with chemicals and stimuli than thoughts, emotions, and concepts, and stored in a more literal way than memories. The rings of trees were their memories, as much as the ribbons of light the Stone had stolen were.
She winced at the reminder of what she'd done, and quickly felt the consequences of her distraction; she was flung out of the fern's mind (inaccurate though it was, she had trouble thinking of it as anything else) and into another one, this one unfamiliar. It felt like a tree's, but it didn't feel like one of Everfree's, lacking the energy and almost pride of its timbers. The air felt cooler, too, and drier. She strained to open eyes her host lacked, trying to find where she was.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Thankfully, while sight may have been cut off for her, plants could still hear, in a fashion, allowing her to detect what sounded like metal on a rock beneath her branches. She could feel someone leaning against her trunk, too, though lightly, and her leaves drank in the scent of faint perfume, dirt, and salt.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
"Who are you?" she whispered, or at least tried to; her host turned it into meaningless leaf-shaking, like a stray breeze would produce. Whoever was resting against her paid it no mind.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Where was this? Wallflower strained in search, and her roots told her what they could find; largely silt and clay, some stones, tombs of dead grass. They didn't find any other roots, though; she seemed to be alone, at least in terms of trees: grass seemed plentiful nearby.
There was a rustling, another person brushing through that grass into the hollow where she stood. "They're coming up the road," a strangely familiar voice croaked. "They'll be here in five minutes."
The scraper ceased their work, standing up. "The road may pass," she growled. "but not all of them will. If they want to get home, they'll need to work for it, and pay."
She sensed the two beneath her beginning to walk away, one's gait barely touching the ground, the other marching with a heavy tread. She tried to follow them, maybe even find out where they were going before they arrived. She flew through the minds of grass, of ferns, of thorns, of-
PAIN, pain pain pain, black clouds of pain dotted her ethereal eyes as she was thrown back. She'd reached a long dead-zone, quite possibly the road they'd mentioned, but before she could find a suitable host pain had assailed her, an iron spike driving into her skull and dragging her away. The pain was hiding something, she could sense it, but she had no idea what it was screening.
She had no idea where her voyage of agony had taken her, either, the pain preventing her from controlling where she went as she was sent flying through the aether like an arrow. Shaking off the last of the pain, she looked around; unfamiliar minds raced past her as she hurtled into the unknown, gradually growing more and more infrequent as she sailed. By the time she managed to bring herself to a halt, there was only one in sight. It seemed tree-like, yet not at the same time, and it felt simply ancient, far older than most of the minds she'd encountered.
Her eyes widened as a familiar sensation passed through her, one that she'd only felt a handful of times; the rosy, woody, hard mental 'scent' of Gaea. It was faint, clearly she hadn't passed this way for a while, but the aether remembered, almost as well as the trees did. Eagerly, she reached out to the mind...
...and found herself staring down at a round, grey stump inside a small cave.
She tried to crane her neck, and found, to her surprise, that she could; the previous times she'd managed to enter one of what Stumper called 'the faces,' they'd been fixed, wood-and-mold masks which she could see, hear, and speak through but not move.
There wasn't much this unusual freedom allowed her to see, though; softly glowing blue fungi laced up the cave-walls behind her, and she could see light from an entrance a few meters ahead of her, but she couldn't see anything else other than the cave, the stump, and the small sapling supporting her head. She couldn't feel it, strangely, nor any roots spreading out from it; it felt lifeless, like a prosthetic.
Voices, agitated ones, began to approach the cave mouth, speaking rapidly in a flowing, unknown language. She strained her ears, grasping for any sounds she could recognize. There were none aside from the approaching soft footsteps, though; whatever language they were speaking wasn't simply unknown to her, it was totally alien to any she knew.
When the first of the speakers stepped inside, she could see why; a slate-skinned, fur-shrouded deep-laird glared at her, others following him and matching his angry expression. Daggers were in many hands, and bows and arrows in a few, all pointed threateningly at her.
"Don't even think of flying," the first speaker ordered in the Common Tongue before she could even attempt to escape from the clearly hostile situation. "The wards which let us know of your coming will keep you here, until I should choose to release you. We have you like a rabbit in a snare, Gaea."
"I'm afraid there's a bit of a misunderstanding," Wallflower nervously laughed, flicking glances at the weaponry surrounding her. "You see, I'm not actually Gaea Everfree, I'm, uh..." She hesitated, debating whether she should tell them her real name. The drawing back of a bowstring made her decision, and she blurted out, "Wallflower Blush, I'm Wallflower Blush. My lords and ladies," she added, remembering what Stumper had told her. "My lords and ladies, pardon me."
The first speaker frowned, then said some soft words to one of their companions. They stepped forward and stared intently at Wallflower before turning back to the speaker and nodding.
"The lord Mavyr tells me that you speak the truth," the speaker said, nodding back. "as do the wards which you activated: less noticeable were you, so unlike the braggart Gaea, Oiorava as you called her. That presence we know, and we know that it is not here. But that does not tell us who you are, Wallflower Blush, or why you came here. You are not our chief enemy, but that does not mean you are not an enemy at all. Speak!"
She bit her wooden lip, then asked, "Might I know who I'm speaking to, first, my lord?"
"This is no mere lord you stand before," one of the archers replied. "He is Tein, King of the Deep-Elves, wearer of the Onyx Circlet, lord of Minas Drow, Celeblona, and Felyamirea, First Ranger and Captain of Nilftria."
"Call me only King Tein when you speak, though," Tein said. "I wish for speed more than lengthy courtesies."
She swallowed a gulp of air down her non-existent throat, then said, "Well, like I said, your majesty, my name's Wallflower Blush. I'm, uh, a Man, a young woman, a student at Canterlot High School. At least," she frowned. "I was. I'm... not sure if I'll be able to head back there."
"Why not?" Tein asked sharply.
"I," she hesitantly replied. "have something I need to do, a duty I need to fulfill. I don't know when I'll manage to do so, or even if I'll be able to."
"What duty is that?" Tein asked.
"Helping protect my home," she answered. "Keeping it safe from the..." She swallowed, then murmured, "...the Windigos."
Unexpectedly for reported allies, the deep-elves hissed at that name, some covering their ears, some glaring at her as if she'd just sworn, some murmuring soft prayers. Tein gestured for silence, and when he received it he turned back to Wallflower with a surprisingly soft expression on his face. "Your duty does you credit," he said gently. "The defense of one's home is a great burden indeed, especially against the foe you named. Beware; the hammer-stroke is soon to fall, and all the realms of Men be besieged. I cannot tell you where the heaviest blow will fall, for to me it appears that every blow will be heavy; the Luxolie and the heirs of tyranny in the horselands, the Airelie and the tempted across the sea, the Ungocalar in the north..." He shook his head sadly. "All your land shall soon become islands surrounded by seas of foes, and either fall beneath the waves or endure for a little while."
"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked, voice shaking. "I thought you were allied with the-with the Windigos."
"Slander," one of the deep-elves spat.
"Inaccuracy," Tein corrected. "We are working towards a common goal with them, yes, the destruction of a shared foe, but we are not their allies. We know that they will not have them, only slaves or masters in those who are strong enough to enslave them in turn. Those who think otherwise are either deluded or misled." He scoffed. "They promise otherwise, of course, but we know their nature; scheming and treacherous, seasoned with malice, not a word they speak can be trusted. And so, our word to them is treacherous; any loyalty to them is either temporary, coincidental, or feigned. The traitor shall not receive the trust they have proven willing to break. Once the treacherous Gaea falls, so will our alliance, and the traitors shall be the ones to discover that they have been betrayed."
"So," Wallflower frowned. "you're using them and then stabbing them in the back."
"As they doubtless would to us," Tein nodded.
"How can you work with anyone, anything, like that?" she asked in dismay. "How do you know they won't stab you in the back first?"
"Need drives us to do deeds we would have never imagined without it," Tein replied with a frown. "I loathe the coldshades as much as you do, but I loathe Gaea and the threat she poses to my people more. As for how I know they won't betray us first, that is one of the reasons I have tried to work as closely as I have with them; I learn their plans, allowing me not just to foresee their treachery earlier but to plan my own so as to make it deadlier." Face softening again, he said, "Stand firm; as soon as we have dealt with Gaea and her minions, we shall come to Homestria's aid. The hammer-stroke shall find one of its own architects working against it, as soon as the tyrant falls."
"Why not stop the Windigos first?" she pleaded. "I mean, however bad you think Gaea might be, she's not as bad as they are, right?"
Tein hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "She might be the lesser threat," he admitted. "but our strength will be greatly lessened by driving the coldshades and their allies out, perhaps too much to deal with her. If Nilftria is to be secured, we must defeat Gaea first, else we may never be able to do so."
"Do you need to?" she asked. "I know she rejected you in the past, but is that enough to justify trying to hurt her like this? I know it's hypocritical for me to say this," she cast her gaze at the ground, remembering her refusal to see Sunset's reformation. "but maybe you should try just putting it behind you."
Tein snarled. "You say that we should simply forgive Gaea for calling us inferior?"
Wallflower's eyes widened. "What?" she whispered.
"In years past, our lord King Obyrn, may he sleep in starlight," Tein bowed his head in respect for the dead. "desired to draw our realm and her's closer together. He sent envoys and tribute to her court and the court of our high rivals, proposing alliance, and went himself with the twelve greatest lairds of the realm to offer the capstone of the alliance to Gaea; his hand in marriage. Wearing softest bat-felt and spidersilk and bearing fine gifts he came to her, in the midst of her court and her allies among our high cousins. He explained his plan, proposed to her with a ring of fine ivory and onyx, and do you know what her reply was?"
Fascinated, entranced by the emotion with which Tein spoke, Wallflower could only shake her head, silently willing him to go on.
"She spoke, words which have been seared into our minds ever since, the words which betrayed the malice in her heart," Tein said. "'I will wed none so much lesser than I.'"
She gasped like she'd been sucker-punched.
"Would you still have us bury those words?" Tein asked sharply. "Would you have us simply forget the humiliation she inflicted on us? Would you have us forgive her who denied our worth so?"
"Why?" she croaked to herself in shock. "Why would she say that? And why didn't she tell me she did?" Gasping, she covered her mouth.
Too late; the keen ears of the elves had picked up and understood her words, and now their weapons were a breath away from her face, and almost glowing with the cold fire of hate. Tein waved them back, but the cold fire that glinted on the withdrawn weapons found a match in his eyes.
"So that is how you came here," he muttered. "Acolyte of the Lady of Malice, walker in her ways. Speak!" he ordered. "Why did you come here? What secrets have you tried to steal?"
"None, your majesty," she stammered in reply. "I didn't mean to come here, honest! I-I didn't even know where here was when I arrived!"
"How could you not?" Tein retorted. "Do telecontolor like yourself wander heedlessly nowadays, not caring where their arts take them? Or did you lose your way, or forget the way home?"
"I was trying to see something back in Homestria," she replied frantically. "Before I could choose something to watch from, though, I felt pain, terrible pain, like-like an iron nail being driven through my brain. I ran away, I had to, and by the time I managed to stop I found myself here."
A murmur went through the elves at that. Tein looked troubled. "A scrying-shield?" he murmured. "And one so strong? But who would raise it, and why..." He looked at her again, his gaze almost a glare. "Where were you when this happened?"
"I don't know," she confessed. "I was trying to find something that could tell me about Gaea, and Stumper, but I lost control. I was in a tree, a solitary tree, a little bit before it happened, if that helps."
"Why were you seeking news of Gaea?" Tein asked, furrowing his brow. "And who is this 'Stumper?'"
Wallflower bit her tongue, but too late. The arrows, still pointing at her, drew back further, clearly preparing to fly. Sighing, she continued digging the hole she'd made deeper, saying, "Stumper's a friend of mine, a woman like me, but older." She winced. "A lot older."
"Is she also a servant of Gaea's?" Tein asked.
"I," Wallflower stuttered. "I'd prefer not to say."
"I'd prefer you would say," Tein replied. "And my arrows agree with me."
Wallflower bit her lip; if she talked, something might happen to Stumper. If she didn't, though, something would happen to her. She didn't know what happened to a caster if their host died or was destroyed while they were casting in it, but she doubted it would be good. But was her life worth Stumper's?
Tein's face softened. "You've already said enough for me to guess," he whispered to her.
Sighing, she broke, saying, "Yes, Stumper is another servant of Gaea's. She's nice, though," she tried to reassure her audience. "She might look like she's made of wood, but her heart's made of gold."
Another wave of murmuring swept through the elves, though this one was quickly quieted by a stern word from Tein. He turned back to Wallflower, his face grave. "We have received word of her," he said. "Some of our scouts have not returned from their missions to Gaea's dwelling, and others who have bear word of a dread captain of the wood, lurking like a great wooden shadow waiting to ambush them. She is Gaea's strong right hand, the enforcer of her tyranny."
"She's not a bully," Wallflower protested. "She's just trying to do what Gaea tells her."
"The soldier is as responsible to their conscience as their commander," Tein retorted.
"And her's is probably telling her to try to protect her home and her friends," she said. "To her, your scouts might look like the lead-up to an attack, an invasion. She might not know why you're trying to do this; she's old, but she's not old enough to remember when you were around, and if Gaea didn't tell me what she said to Obyrn, she might not have told Stumper, either."
Tein's brow furrowed. "You say she's not old enough to remember when we still walked in Gaea's realm," he said. "but that should be expected; no Man is, not even the oldest of our elders is. Why is that so noteworthy for her?"
"She," Wallflower fumbled. "she's really old, somehow. Hundreds of years old. I-I don't know exactly how she's still alive, but my guess is it's something to do with Gaea." She furrowed her brow. "Maybe something to do with why she's made of wood now..."
"That does sound like Gaea's corrupting influence," Tein said. "Perhaps Gaea has given her her favour and bound her life to her's, and her malice has been poisoning the woman ever since. King Obyrn of memory did similarly with Robin, though his influence was far more benevolent."
"Wait a minute," Wallflower's eyes widened. "You said that what happened to Stumper might be because Gaea gave her her favour?"
"It is possible," Tein frowned. "Why does that strike such fear into you?"
Wallflower swallowed, though this time the gulp refused to go down, and not because of the current immateriality of her throat. "Because she gave it to me, too," she croaked.
Several of the elves recoiled, while Tein's gaze turned laser-like for a moment, piercing her and scanning her up and down. Eventually, though, his gaze softened again, and he turned back to the others and whispered soothing words to them. Though clearly hesitant, they relaxed somewhat, weapons lowering along with their voices.
"Grave is this news," Tein said. "Gaea has swindled herself an ally, it seems. By granting you her favour she has bound your life to her's, forcing you to choose between two evils; either to fight us and endure countless years as Gaea's servant, or die with her beneath our swords. For so long as she lives you will, but if she were to die..." He shook his head. "This is not your fight, and yet she would force it to be your's. How great is her malice!"
Wallflower's ethereal heart fell into her non-existent stomach. Gaea hadn't told her any of this. Why? Why hadn't she told Wallflower what she was getting into? Why hadn't she let her make an informed decision? Had Stumper been tricked like that, too? Was anything Gaea had told her true?
"Now, sadly, you see why we seek to wage war against her," Tein said. "She cares not for the world outside her realm except insofar as she can exploit it. She will be our doom in the coming days; all lands must stand together against the coldshades, or fall alone. Gaea must fall, or she shall drag us into the pit with her. And yet this news of you and Stumper, as you called her, grieve me; Gaea must fall, but in doing so she will force you to fall with her. Spirit of malice!" he snarled. "Would that she'd been banished with the coldshades she so hypocritically hates!" He sighed, then looked pitifully at her. "Grave is the evil she has done to you, Wallflower Blush, and greater still is the evil she is forcing us to do; in order to topple a tyrant, we must kill the innocent. And yet do so we must, lest more innocents be killed by that tyrant. But know that we will not do so gladly, nor out of hatred towards you. And I will not allow you to die unloved, the poor pawn of the tyrant Gaea." Stretching out his hand and murmuring soft syllables, he traced a symbol on Wallflower's hosted head, then said, "Go, with what blessings I can give you. You have told me enough, Wallflower Blush; I give you my leave to depart. And prepare! For the storm comes, and your kin must ready to meet it. Go, and bear word to them of what I've told you. Help them ready or fight as you see fit, and be at peace when Death unjustly comes to claim you."
Wallflower, stricken dumb by the horror and courtesies Tein said, feebly stretched out an ethereal hand to him as the wards holding her in place fell away and she was swept out by an invisible tide.