Chapter 4
Echoes of the Old Gods
The air in Elder Elara’s small cottage hung thick with the scent of dried herbs and woodsmoke, a comforting aroma that usually settled Lina’s restless heart. Today, however, it felt like a heavy blanket, muffling the usual cheerful chatter that bounced between her and Jonas. They sat on the rough-hewn wooden stools, their knees almost touching, their gaze fixed on the wizened face of the village elder. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long, distorted shadows, and the very trees of Varėna seemed to hold their breath.
"The blue," Elder Elara murmured, her voice like the rustle of dry leaves, her eyes, the color of a stormy sky, fixed on the small, still-damp cloth Lina clutched in her hand. The faint, iridescent stain of the mushroom’s peculiar sap still clung to the fibers, a vibrant, unsettling reminder of their discovery. "It is the mark of the Vilkis, the ancient spirit of this land. A spirit long forgotten, wounded, and now, awakened."
Jonas shifted on his stool, his usual boisterous energy subdued. "But… a spirit? Elder, it was just a mushroom. A very strange mushroom, yes, but still just a mushroom." He couldn't quite believe the words tumbling from the elder’s lips, couldn't reconcile the familiar forest they loved with tales of curses and ancient beings.
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