Whispers of the Past

The air in the elder’s dwelling was thick with the scent of dried herbs and something else, something ancient and comforting, like sun-baked earth after a spring rain. It clung to the woven tapestries that adorned the walls, to the smooth, worn wood of the low table, and most of all, to the elder herself. Her name was Elara, though most simply called her “the Keeper,” and her eyes, the colour of moss after a long drought, held a universe of quiet knowing. Lilly felt a tremor of awe, a sensation that had been building since her mother had finally agreed to this meeting. Her mother, usually so grounded, seemed a little lost here, her gaze darting around the small, circular room as if searching for something familiar.

“Welcome, Lilly. And welcome, Sarah,” Elara’s voice was a gentle murmur, like wind rustling through reeds. She gestured for them to sit on the low cushions arranged around the table. Lilly settled herself, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She’d imagined this moment a hundred times, picturing herself demanding answers, but now, faced with Elara’s serene presence, the words felt clumsy and inadequate.

“Thank you for seeing us, Keeper Elara,” Lilly managed, her voice a little breathy.