Born as a Witch Chapter 67: Magical hidden forest

Lira stood at the edge of the moonlit circle.

Suddenly, a sharp burst of light flared, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut and raise a hand to shield them.

When the brilliance softened, she slowly lowered her arm and opened her eyes.

She was no longer in the mushroom grove—she was standing in an entirely different place.

All around her, flowers glimred softly, casting a gentle light over the trees and bushes. Delicate vines climbed upward, heavy with bell-shaped blooms that glowed faintly. Greens and golds blended into one another, as if the world had been wrapped in a dreamlike mist.

She took a cautious step forward. Ivvie fluttered to her side and said, "Now you are on your own. Be careful." With that, the fairy darted into the bushes, vanishing among the glowing leaves.

Lira hesitated, then stepped toward the brighter light shining between the trees.

As she stepped between the trees into a lighter space, the air itself seed to shimr. Flowers of every shade swayed gently, so no taller than her ankle, others rising above her head, their petals curling into the shapes of tiny houses with doorways and windows glowing softly from within. Between them, fairies twirled in perfect circles, their wings scattering glints of rainbow light. So perched on the rims of blossoms, sipping a golden nectar from delicate flower-cups; others floated lazily above, their laughter like the chi of silver bells. The whole clearing felt alive with music that ca from nowhere and everywhere at once—like she had stumbled into the heart of a secret celebration that had been going on for centuries.

As she halted, entranced by the wonder before her, a hush seed to ripple through the gathering. Tiny heads turned, gossar wings catching the sunlight in flashes of silver, gold, and pale opal. Then, as if a bell had chid a secret signal, several fairies broke into delighted laughter and darted toward her in a flurry of shimring light.

So wove playful circles around her, their trails of luminescence hanging in the air like fleeting ribbons. One with hair like spun copper tugged gently at a strand of her own, giggling as if it were the grandest joke in the world. Another darted close to her ear, whispering in a voice like wind through bells, "Co, co with us..."

A chorus rose—soft, high-pitched, and impossibly sweet—urging her onward. "Co, have so honeyad!" They beckoned with tiny hands, holding thimble-sized cups carved from flower petals, each brimming with a golden liquid that glowed as though sunlight had been distilled into drink. The air itself seed warr, richer, the scent of wild honey and blooming flowers wrapping around her like a silken cloak.

She glanced around, searching for a clear patch among the soft, dew-kissed grass. Finding a little hollow ringed with tiny bluebells, she lowered herself gently, her dress settling in ripples around her. The fairies hovered close, their gossar wings catching the light like shards of rainbow glass.

"I’ll try... just a little," she murmured with a shy smile.

A ripple of laughter rang out—like silver chis caught in a breeze—and the fairies danced in delight. From sowhere unseen, they brought forth the largest blossom she had ever beheld, its petals cupped into a perfect bowl. Golden liquid glimred within.

They pressed it into her hands, the flower warm as if it still held the sun’s touch. She lifted it to her lips.

The taste was beyond sweetness—like the heart of wild honey mixed with the first drop of spring rain. It slid smoothly over her tongue, soft as silk yet edged with a sharp, sparkling freshness that woke every sense. The flavor deepened into sothing almost impossible to na: part nectar, part crystal-clear water drawn from a hidden mountain spring, and part the secret warmth of the earth itself.

She looked carefully to see if there was space to sit, then lowered herself onto the soft grass. Turning to the fairies, she said she would try just a little. They all laughed and handed her the biggest flower bowl, brimming with honey ad.

She took a sip. It was sweet like candy, smooth as it slid down her tongue, fresh as mountain spring water, yet rich with the sharpness of honeyed nectar.

Warmth spread through her, loosening every muscle until she felt more relaxed than she had ever been. A smile blood across her face, and she thought she could stay here forever. All pain lted away, all worries vanished.

She smiled at the fairies, and they began forming a great circle—dancing, laughing, singing. Their voices rang out in joyful harmony as they twirled in their delicate dresses, wings shimring and fluttering in the air. The sight was beautiful—utterly srizing.

As the air grew thick with the hum of tiny wings, a hush fell over the grove. From between the trunks of ancient oaks, a figure began to erge. She was taller than the other fairies—her presence commanding yet graceful. Her gown, woven from strands of sunlight, shimred with shifting hues of gold and amber, as though the dawn itself clung to her. Tiny motes of light swirled around her like an invisible tide, bending in reverence to her approach.

Her eyes, bright as molten honey, swept over the gathered fairies. The playful music faltered, replaced by a soft rustling, as if the leaves themselves were holding their breath. With the faintest nod, she signaled an unspoken command. The smaller fairies imdiately bowed, their luminous wings folding against their backs. The joy of the dance faded into stillness, like the end of a dream.

One by one, they lifted into the air, their movents now quiet and asured. Threads of light trailed behind them, dissolving into the shadows as they disappeared into the dense green. So turned mid-flight, offering Lira tiny, knowing smiles and delicate waves before vanishing into the forest’s embrace—leaving her with the strange feeling that she had just witnessed sothing ant for no mortal eyes.

The golden fairy glided forward with effortless grace, her wings casting shimring patterns of light that danced like liquid gold upon the leaves. As she drew near, her eyes held a depth both ancient and kind, sparkling like stars caught in honey.

"I am Queen Lissandra," she said, her voice a lody that seed woven from the whisper of wind and the gentle hum of blossoms. "Guardian of these woods and keeper of forgotten truths."

Lira lowered herself gracefully, bowing her head with respect. "I am Lira," she replied softly, voice steady despite the awe swelling in her chest. "I seek answers about my powers—about the winds that stir within and the magic I barely understand. Can you help ?"

Queen Lissandra’s gaze softened, and she extended a slender hand, fingertips glowing faintly with ethereal light. "Many have forgotten the old ways, child of root and sky. But the winds still rember, and so do I. Your journey will be difficult, but you are not alone."

The queen’s eyes locked with Lira’s, as if reaching beyond the present mont, into the threads of fate themselves. "Co, sit with beneath the Moon’s Veil. There are stories you must hear, and lessons the wind itself will teach."

With a graceful motion, Lissandra beckoned Lira to follow her deeper into the glowing grove, where secrets waited like petals ready to unfurl.