Midnight Muscadines #3: Forest of Illusions
Midnight Muscadines is a lovingly crafted, cozy dark world where magic is waning and making jam is essential. After a tough week, returning to this world is a comfort.
After setting out from his home of Flickerfen, Fresco decided to make camp on the outskirts of a town called Ember. Ember is settled in a ring around an ancient tree root, with dryads and treants surrounding the vast expanse of forests stemming from Ember’s center. As dawn broke, Fresco was awoken to the sound of… singing? A group of ghosts—always ghosts sang true stories in Song—were humming a tale of an old Twilit enroute to discover a truth he may regret or worse. Fresco felt a chill; the ghosts were singing about him in the past, present, and future.
He listened as they sang of the Twilit being watched and followed, two things that had never happened to Fresco before. It would be wise for the moment to think nothing of it, but wiser still to remember their warnings and move with caution. Fresco broke camp and attempted to enter Ember, only to have his path to the town blocked by a falling ancient tree branch, immediately guarded by a treant. Neither strong nor brave enough to face the creature, Fresco retraced his path to the southwest.
Not two steps into his new route, he was confronted by someone from ‘Fen. Old buddy Fog, another elder of decent esteem with whom Fresco had many laughs and arguments, stood opposite Fresco on the forest path. Fog began to yell obscenities and threats, and even attempted to wrestle Fresco into submission to throw him into his cart and bring him back home. The lacerations of his words, calling Fresco selfish and foolish for leaving ‘Fen in pursuit of a truth he doesn’t really wish to know felt doubly real. Yet, when Fresco overcame their scuffle, Fog was gone, faded into the tree line.
Finally able to walk more than a few paces, Fresco tossed the last few obstacles from his mind until the bursts of light and an endless stream of merciless giggles alerted him to the presence of Pixies. They circled a core of starfire, and each took turns juggling and otherwise putting themselves in danger with the shards of waning magic. The Pixies were goading him to join their dangerous game, but Fresco refused. A touch of starfire could lapse the mind in ways an old Twilit was not prepared for…
Surprisingly the Pixies let Fresco pass… and pass… and pass… until what felt like hours eroded away and Fresco found himself once again hearing laughter and seeing the sparks of a forbidden magical artefact. He had not gone anywhere. Much to his dismay, Fresco realized he was—and had been—party to the Pixies’ games without much say, plodding in place as if cursed, meeting with “Fog” though Fog was likely snoring back in ‘Fen.
Though not asked to speak his fury, the Pixies could smell Fresco’s seasoned anger. Their leader floated to meet his eyes, and promised she would lift the veil of magic over him only if he tells her a ghost story.
Fresco had just the magical jam for ghost stories, and without another word between them, he called upon a willing party of ghosts to sing a song for the Pixies. They were delighted and sunk into a tale of old dryads stealing livestock from the town of Ember, using the animals for sacrifices and breaking moral codes unwritten but otherwise understood. Once satiated by the ghosts’ song, the Pixies snapped their frail fingers in unison and Fresco felt something clear from just beyond his gaze.
He headed east, just to be safe, and found himself in a bioluminescent forest riddled with jam ingredients. He couldn’t help himself and settled in to forage some Nimbrussle, a potent herb that makes anyone or anything briefly weightless. Satisfied with his findings and stuffed ingredient pouch, Fresco felt a wave of calm that encouraged him to make camp for the night.
He watched the stars and listened for their sagely whispers, plotting his route for the days ahead. Despite the challenges of the forest beyond Ember, Fresco was undeterred from his quest: he had to make it to the University. He had to see the essence of this Nimmian scholar conspiracy. He had to source one last truth to satisfy his old bones.