At noon, the pair shared a meal. Cool water had been collected from the thin stream nearby. They shared it as common travellers on the road.

The Forgotten Forest leaned in on their camp, letting the pair know they were in its domain now. Despite their laughs, they were not safe. 

Gwyn and Bedwyr kept their blades close and let their auras flow. As much as it was a power that those around them would feel wash over them, for the individual, it was magic that could be harnessed and used to great effect.

Lust might be a fine way to spend an evening with wine and bed play, but at its core, it was passion, adrenaline-inducing. Letting oneself step into its flowing river made one's heart beat faster, and one's senses heightened.

Bedwyr let it dance about him, let the creaking branches of the oppressive forest taste it, and fear it. The courts meant nothing here; there were no laws or rules. But the forest respected magic as ancient as itself.

“This place is not a fan of our presence.” Gwyn somehow looked thicker in the firelight. Her aura fully challenges that of her surroundings.

“No, it is not, but I lay not the blame at its feet. But upon us for travelling without invitation.'' The Twilight Fae poured some of his wine upon the ground, watching it seep into the earth, before raising an ornate goblet to the treetops.

“We mean no harm, but if this place wishes to taste the bite of my blade, I will happily oblige.” Gwyn patted the broadsword and eyed the shadows. 

Shaking his head slowly with a gentle smile, Bedwyr drained his goblet and placed it on his belt hoops. 

“Get some rest, I am sure the forest will still be here when the sun rises, and you can then see your role as woodcutter.” Bedwyr skillfully twisted and plucked at the strings on his ethereal lyre.

Gwyn growled at their surroundings. Do not try to kill me in my sleep,” she demanded and lay beside the flames.

“My dear, you step through more moods than a tavern full of drunks. I promise you this, if death is to happen between us, I can assure you it will be face to face with a blade in one hand and a song in the other.” Bedwyr performed a flamboyant bow.

“You would lose,” she grinned wolfishly and rolled to her side, facing away from her travelling companion. 

He had to admire her confidence, as confident as he was with a blade. Gwyn’s aura of strength was potent indeed. Bedwyr had not lied; if they did come to blows, he would honour her aura, and her position as a Ray of Dawn. 

Sitting there as the Sunlit slept, left alone with his thoughts. He realised the last few nights were the first in decades he had not spent them in a mass of naked bodies.

Although he would never admit it, the downtime was welcome. Different thoughts consumed his waking time now. Dying Dryads was unheard of. Now two in quick succession. 

The Spirit Trees without Dryads would lead to a sickness among the young Fae. Those outside of the Courts, the natural Fae. 

If the Gloamings were responsible, it would make sense strategically, but what was more worrying was how they were doing it. The Forgotten Forest was subservient to no entity, Fae or otherwise. 

If the Gloamings were bypassing it, then the problem was tenfold. 

Bedwyr positioned himself against a tree, and it almost flinched at his comfortable demeanour. His braided white hair nestled across his shoulders with a life of its own. 

Sitting comfortably with his lyre ready, he began to sing. His voice was pitch and tone perfect, well practised and masterful. 

"In twilight's whisper, a shadow fades… Beneath the gentle of a sunlit ray…” he began, keeping his tone deep, matching the mood of the forest. 

As a young squire in the Court of Dusk, he had heard the song many times before learning it was a funeral song. But a special one was used when the courts came together to acknowledge the final pages of a passing Fae. 

It rained heavily that day. The moon and sun held the sky, stars could be seen during the day, and shadows welcomed the light. 

The Monarchs of Dusk and Dawn had been there with grand entourages. It was the day before the Gloamings declared war on the Fae. Avalon had been the last of the Moon Bird. He would never forget their white feathers.  It rained heavily that day.

He didn’t finish the song; he never could. Wiping the tear away, Bedwyr casually plucked at the strings and hummed. 

Despite the lack of light in the Forgotten Forest, Gwyn knew when the first dawnlight graced the world. She was up and ready to immediately start hiking. 

Bedwyr was drinking tea and passed her a cup filled with mint-scented liquid. She took it suspiciously.

“We need to get going. I fear for the Spirit Trees.” Her worry was obvious.

“I agree, however, we need to be rested, fed and watered. We must defend ourselves when the forest grows bored of my singing.”

Gwyn paused, hit by a memory, a dream maybe. 

“That was you, last night?” she asked.

He nodded.

“It was…nice” She tilted her head, then walked away.

“Thank you, fair Gwenhwyfar.” he offered a simple nod this time, no need for the flamboyance. 

In response to the nighttime song, the forest lessened its choke on the pair. Just enough to give them a head start for the day. 

Bedwyr acknowledged the forest, and this time, it was he who took the point. It only felt right, as he was being treated as a guest that day.

As they hiked, it felt as though the way forward was open, but behind them the trees looked tighter, as if they had moved closer to one another to block their return path.

Gwyn held her sword ready for the whole morning, constantly throwing glances at the flora about her. 

“How is it the day does not bother you?” she called ahead to Bedwyr.

“When I was upon my knightly quests for the Court of the Dusk, I was called upon to face the Dawn Dragon with blade in hand and the Dusk in my heart.” he began.

“Wait? What?”

“The battle lasted all through the night and into the noon light. Its sunlit breath consumed me, and if it were not for the strength of Twilight within my soul, I would have perished." His practised storytelling tone was perfect. 

“The Dawn Dragon?” Gwyn took a few steps to be by his side now. 

“Indeed, dear Gwyn. A golden scaled beast of wonder and power.”

“What happened after the breath?”

“The blessing of Dusk healed me. Mended my wounds. The Dawn Dragon asked for a song or to face true death.”

“And so you sang?”

“I did indeed, I sang of Ilia and Rose and their love of the moon, the silver light that threads their hearts together.” The trees were leaning in to listen to Bedwyr’s tale.

Gwyn was wholly invested, and her blade was relaxed in her hand. Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

Now Bedwyr could see her youth. The strength that poured from her physique and aura was potent, but still younger than the Fae's life span. His smile was true. 

Her head moved ever so slightly, looking for the finish. 

“With the fable finished, the Dawn Dragon shed a tear I caught within my waterskin. I lived,” he ended the performance.

Silence clung to the air, the trees refused to accept the breeze, and no leaves moved. Gwyn slowly came out of the trance of the story.

“That's it? But how does that mean you walk fine in the Sunlight? Did you drink the tear? Did its magic cling to you? What?” She gestured left and right as the questions flowed. 

“Must I tell the story again. Your questions have been answered.” his charm flicked about the air.

Something changed in Gwyn's stance. She now stood sideways. The massive blade came up slowly in front of her. Bedwyr, with lightning speed, had his longsword out and ready to face the disappointed warrior.

Gwyn burst forward, past Bedwyr, and brought her blade swinging in front of her, cleaving the creature in half. Its rotted bark-like body separated and split, screaming insects and wet moss. 

The creatures stood on two legs, with four long, thin arms ending in clawed hands. They resembled dying trees, and insects and clumps of moss dropped from their toothy maw like drool. 

Gwyn roared at the sky, letting her aura flow. Rage flowed through her. She gripped the sword with both hands and swung into them. Half a dozen at least had now appeared, seemingly hidden among the forest's shadows. 

Bedwyr spun as Gwyn pushed past him, his eyes meeting the lightless sockets of these monsters. An odour of death claimed the air and clung to them. 

The Bard put the blade's flat against his forehead and joined the raging Ray of Dawn in her violent dance. 

More of them appeared, as if from nowhere. Gwyn strode across the tiny battleground, cleaving her way through them. Ignoring the cuts they made with their claws. 

Bedwyr stepped in between the spaces she didn’t use, flicking out precisely. His sword looked to have its dance going on. With each cut, the insects that fell from the wounds shrieked.

High-pitched and ear-hurting. Bedwyr stayed in Gwyn's aura, letting it feed and enhance his strength. Give purpose to each strike. 

A wind roared through the treetops, making them sway angrily from left to right. The creaking of branches under strain was as audible as a battle cry.

“Look for a summoner!” Bedwyr called to Gwyn, hoping the words would get through her rage. 

Two more fell under the might of the Sunlit Fae. Her overwhelming style and raw strength enabled her to cut them down like a scythe. Gwyn was oblivious to the fallen scooping the moss and insects back inside and rising to fight again. 

They swarmed the pair, relying on attrition to take down their enemy. Gwyn heard Bedwyr's voice; it felt distant, but the urgency held. 

She paused momentarily, trying to focus, staring past the creatures into the treeline. There they sat cross-legged, magic pouring from them in strands that went to each of the creatures. 

Gwyn's blade switched targets, seeking the end to this summoner. Grabbing the nearest one to her with one hand and slamming it into the ground, the sword stabbed down and twisted. The two in front were swatted aside as the width of the blade hit them.

Her war cry bellowed through the forest. The creatures paused in their attack, for a brief moment, frightened of the massive warrior. This was all she needed as she sprinted towards the sitting summoner. 

Bedwyr saw her intent and followed in her wake, slashing and stabbing. Keeping them away from her, the best he could. He chanced a glance to see Gwyn bearing down on the caster. He was in awe for the first time in a very long time.

Gwyn's aura was not just one of strength but something beyond that, of an invincibility so ironbound that he felt as though she was unkillable. Her wounds were many, but that did not matter. The odds were against them, but again, it did not matter. He knew as long as she still drew breath, there was no chance of losing. 

Looking up from their incantation, the humanoid looked up from dark, frog-like eyes. No teeth sat in their mouth. A gurgle of arcane power was spat in her direction. The summoner's eyes went wide with fear as it hit Gwyn square in the chest. She should have dropped.

Gwyn felt the impact of the spell, felt it claw at her senses, wracking her body with pain. But she was Gwenhwyfar, a Ray of Dawn. Strength was her existence. She strode through the attack, gritting her teeth together and took the head of the caster in a single swipe. 

On its death, the tethers failed, and the magic keeping the creatures alive dissipated. They crumbled to nothing but mulch on the forest floor, seeping back into the earth. 

Gwyn breathed heavily, dropping to a knee, using her sword to rest on. Then one hand on the floor, a grunt or two more, and she collapsed unconscious alongside the dead summoner. 

Cleaning his sword as he approached, Bedwyr looked towards the trees. A smouldering anger in his eyes threatened the forest. He spoke with conviction. 

“If we are assaulted in such a way again on our travels. The next story I tell will be of dying leaves and broken bark. A lifeless plain left in the wake of a Forgotten Forest.” his words carried as if a General was disciplining their soldiers.

The trees retreated, leaving the unconscious Gwyn in a glade that was not there before. Bedwyr let the magic drop and knelt at her side. He whispered, and words of starlight sparkled in her hair and across her skin. 

“Awake, fair lady, there is more left to do on this adventure.”

Gwyn groaned and pulled herself up to sit. This was worse than any morning after a heavy tavern night. The wounds she had sustained in the fight were now burning, and she noted every one of them.

She felt weakened, like her strength had been sapped, a feeling she was not used to. Then, she noticed glittering across her skin and Bedwyr whispering. 

Her hand snapped out to grab him, but he turned it away skillfully, and she fell onto her side, off balance. There was no bite behind it. 

“I advise relaxing. Not many walk through such magic and live. Your aura is potent indeed,” he held his waterskin out towards her.

“What have you done to me?” she murmured, pushing away the offered drink and pulling herself upright again.

“Believe it or not, it's healing you. The magic of the stars is not to be scoffed at. Please drink.”

A moment passed.

“What is it?” she asked groggily.

“Remember the story?” he winked.

This brought a tiny smile to her face. She took the skin and drank from it. The water was perfect, cool and refreshing and felt like her first drink in days.

“Thank you.” Gwyn rubbed at her head, the thick black mane falling about her. 

“Are they gone?” she asked, looking about and reaching for her sword on the ground a foot away.

“There are indeed, thanks to your wonderful blade skills. I was unsure if you could hear me, so I added a bit of gusto to the command.” Bedwyr waited for her to pick up on the last word.

Gwyn's head turned to him slowly. 

“Command?” Her teeth clenched.

“I apologise, you were most dedicated to the fight at hand and we needed to find and end this dark fool.” he gestured to the decapitated corpse.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“They were hidden from me, I see in Twilight.”

She nodded but was in no state to argue.

“What now?” she asked, taking another drink.

“We have a couple hours of sunlight left of the day, and it would seem the Forgotten Forest has decided not to welcome us. Poor behaviour indeed.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, continuing may be lethal for both of us.”

“I’m not scared,” she stated.

“Dear Gwyn, being scared is something I will never associate with you, especially after seeing you among those creatures.”  

“The Dryads.” Her voice cracked a little. 

Bedwyr put his hand on her massive shoulder and patted gently.

“Fear not, Lady of the Dawn. We shall aid them in their plight.” 

Gwyn coughed and smiled. 

“You are…”

“I know.” Bedwyr began the incantation of starlight again. 

The glitter brightened, and Gwyn reacted this time, watching as the many cuts became shallower over time. 

Her energy would need time to return, but at least she was no longer bleeding to death. It had been the first time she had faced something other than a Gloaming trying to take Oberon's Wall. 

It was exhilarating. The battle was chaotic, and she remembered the emotion running through her veins, her heart beating like a war drum.

“I can walk now.” 

The pair leaned on one another as Gwyn stood. She stretched to the sky, out to the side, and reached for her toes. A few twists and groans later, her sword was on her back.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a forest hit me,” she smiled, and Bedwyr returned the smile.