The forest air felt cooler than the shop, cleaner, carrying the scent of damp earth and leaf rot instead of coffee and baked goods. He stepped into the familiar clearing — roughly half the size of his courtyard — encircled by a thick forest that pressed close on all sides. The ground beneath his boots was packed soil scattered with pine needles and pale leaves. Several broad stones pushed up through the grass, worn smooth where time had left them exposed.
Beyond the clearing, the forest held the same quiet wrongness he remembered from his first visit. When he focused on a single tree, it was just that — a tree, rough bark and sturdy branches. But the moment his focus drifted, things became less... certain. Trunks seemed to lean a little too far before straightening. Branches rearranged themselves in subtle, uncertain ways. Shapes that suggested narrow paths or open spaces formed between the trees, then dissolved when he tried to look at them directly.
It was as if the place didn’t settle into shape until someone looked at it. Given what he understood about the greater Wyrd Wilds surrounding the Testing Grounds, that might have been exactly what was happening.
Jeremiah drew a slow breath and released it, rolling his shoulder as he adjusted the strap of his travel bag. He stepped farther into the clearing. Behind him, the door shut with a heavy thud.
He turned.
At the edge of the clearing stood a squat stone cottage — the mirror image of the small building that served as the Menagerie’s staff room. The door he had just used was set neatly into its wall, as though it were nothing more than a simple side entrance.
Before he could take another step, Billy streaked past him in a blur.
The kraken looped around the clearing once, then twice, his bubble armor catching the thin light filtering through the canopy. He dipped low enough to skim the grass before climbing sharply, tentacles flaring wide. Then he tucked them close and dove in a clean, controlled arc, repeating the motion with eager excitement. Other than the courtyard, Billy didn’t get many chances to really let loose.
Jeremiah huffed a quiet laugh under his breath.
“Looks like the kid’s coming back to his usual self,” a voice called from above.
“Son of a—”
Jeremiah jumped and spun, heart lurching.
Above, Mero lay stretched across the cottage roof, hands folded behind his head, one leg swinging idly over the edge. The fairy guide smirked down at him. “Mornin’.”
Jeremiah frowned, forcing his heart to still. “What are you doing here?”
Typically, Jeremiah didn’t see Mero until midday. He claimed it was because he had a busy schedule, but Jeremiah was almost certain he just didn’t want to help with the chores.
“What?” Mero tilted his head, grin widening. “Did ya think I’d miss the big day?”
Jeremiah let out a slow breath and shook his head. “I guess not. Is this where you disappeared to last night?”
Mero shrugged lazily. “Among other places.”
Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed. He’d learned to recognize that tone over the past few weeks — the light, playful edge that usually meant Mero had done something that would give Jeremiah a headache.
“Please tell me you didn’t pull anything that’s going to cause trouble today,” Jeremiah said flatly.
Mero pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “Really, kid. What kind of person do ya think I am? Do you honestly believe I’d stir up trouble just to mess with ya? We’re on the same team, remember?”
“That wasn’t a no,” Jeremiah replied.
Mero’s grin sharpened, but before he could answer, a high-pitched trill cut through the clearing.
Billy shot between them in a blur.
The bubble wobbled violently, jerking side to side as if tumbling on an unfelt gust. Jeremiah stepped forward on instinct and snapped his hand out. His reflexes caught the sphere midair just before it could slam into the cottage wall.
The impact rattled through his arm.
Inside the bubble, Billy spun rapidly in place, as if stuck in a washing machine. Jeremiah hadn’t seen what Billy had tried to do, but it was obvious he’d lost control.
“Easy, easy,” Jeremiah muttered.
He steadied the bubble in both hands until Billy’s rotation evened out and the young kraken’s eyes returned to focus. Jeremiah pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, releasing Billy’s bubble. Billy wobbled once more, then hovered unevenly in place. The young kraken didn’t immediately dart off again, instead choosing to float close to Jeremiah’s shoulder. A ripple of flustered frustration and embarrassment passed through their bond.
“Let’s just get Hazel and get moving,” Jeremiah said, adjusting the strap of his travel bag. “I want to make it back before tomorrow, at least.”
He crossed the clearing and stepped onto the porch. The boards creaked faintly under his weight.
Jeremiah lifted his hand and knocked.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the door swung open.
A girl stood in the doorway, hair sticking out in every direction. Deep shadows pooled beneath her eyes. The large, squirrel-like tail behind her twitched in uneven, irritated beats.
“What is it?!” she snapped.
Jeremiah’s eyes widened, and he took a half-step back. “Ah—sorry. Did I interrupt something?”
Hazel froze.
She blinked once. Then twice.
“Oh,” she said, the edge draining from her voice. “Jeremiah.”
Her shoulders sagged. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand and let out a long breath that sounded like it had been waiting all night to escape. “No. No, it’s fine. I thought you were… someone else.”
Jeremiah studied her.
In the nearly two weeks of nightly trips to treat the flock, he had seen Hazel irritated, amused, cryptic, and occasionally smug. He’d never seen her look exhausted.
“Rough night?” he asked.
Hazel gave a short, humorless laugh. “You could say that.” She shifted, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. “Some idiots were causing trouble. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. It’s mostly settled.”
Her tail snapped once, sharper than her tone suggested.
Jeremiah raised a brow but didn’t press. As ‘caretaker’ of the Testing Grounds, Jeremiah knew the wyrd-being in front of him had more responsibilities than just making sure he didn’t get lost in this place, but he was surprised to see her so worn out. Still, the exhaustion caught him off guard. From what little he knew of the fae, they shouldn’t need rest in the same way as a mortal.
He wasn’t even sure if Hazel was a fae. Not like Mero, at least. The woman had never been very forthcoming with personal details. Not that he’d asked, either.
“Did you need something?” Hazel asked, squinting up at him. “You’re early.”
“I am,” Jeremiah said. He adjusted the strap of his bag out of habit. “I figured it’s time we wrapped things up with the flock. So I wanted to get an early start.”
Hazel stared at him for a beat.
Then her eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face.
“I see,” she said, and for the first time since she’d opened the door, she sounded fully awake.
“Give me a moment.”
Before Jeremiah could reply, she stepped back and shut the door in his face.
The latch clicked.
Jeremiah stared at the wood for a second, then let out a quiet sigh.
Above him, from the roofline, Mero chuckled.
——————————————————
Hazel didn’t hurry as she led them through the Wilds. After all, there wasn’t a reason to. In the Wyrd Wilds, you would always arrive exactly where you needed to, at exactly the right time. In this place, ‘destination’ and ‘intent’ were often the same thing. Where you stood and where you meant to stand were shaped as much by will as by the soil beneath your boots. If your purpose wavered, even slightly, the path would waver with it. If you only half-understood why you traveled, you might find yourself stopping halfway without ever realizing you had done so.
It had taken Jeremiah several trips to grasp that lesson.
On his first visits, the forest had folded in on itself. Paths bent into slow, uncertain loops. Clearings appeared, then narrowed into dead ends that hadn’t seemed like dead ends at first. Every turn felt arbitrary. The trees leaned close, their branches tangling overhead in a lattice that swallowed the light. The deeper he walked, the less certain he became that he was moving forward at all.
Two weeks later, the difference was stark.
Hazel now guided them along a narrow, direct trail that cut cleanly through the undergrowth. The way ahead no longer dissolved when his attention slipped. The earth was packed flat, pine needles pressed thin beneath repeated passage. Broken twigs lay scattered along the edges, and low branches had been bent back or snapped away entirely. It reminded Jeremiah of a game trail, and he realized that was precisely what it had become. Repetition had carved certainty into the Wilds. They had walked this route enough times with a shared purpose that the forest no longer questioned it.
The destination was known. The intent was clear. The path responded.
The trees thinned sooner than he expected.
Light strengthened ahead, shifting from the muted green glow of the canopy to something brighter and more open. The air changed as well. The heavy scent of damp loam faded, replaced by a sharper fragrance threaded with faint sweetness.
Less than an hour after leaving the cottage, they stepped through the last line of trees and into the Candlewick’s clearing.
Jeremiah slowed at its edge.
It looked exactly as he’d left it.
An enormous field stretched before them, dotted with dozens of emerald-green bushes sagging under the weight of bright red berries. Beyond them rose the massive oak — its leaves a vivid crimson, its trunk a muted bronze, thick enough that five men linking arms couldn’t encircle it.
Past the oak, the land dropped away in a sheer cliff. The horizon beyond lay pale and open, so vast it made the sky feel endless.
White shapes fluttered from branch to branch. Dozens, at least. Perhaps hundreds. They shifted and settled, wings flashing against the red canopy. Now and then, a deeper streak of scarlet cut through the leaves as a female adjusted in her nest, feathers catching the light before vanishing again.
The flock hadn’t noticed the newcomers quite yet. Or if they had, they chose not to react.
This was the first time Jeremiah had approached the clearing in daylight since that first disastrous visit. Since then, he and Hazel had worked only at night, moving carefully under the cover of darkness to clean and treat the field without drawing attention.
Mero drifted up over his shoulder and folded his arms, gaze sweeping the oak.
“So,” the fairy drawled, “what’s the plan, kid?”
Jeremiah didn’t answer right away.
He stepped forward a few paces, then knelt at the edge of the clearing. His eyes settled on the nearest cocktail berry bush. The leaves trembled faintly in the breeze. He reached out and ran his hand through the branches.
The bush rustled.
When he withdrew his hand, only a scattering of tiny red specks clung to his skin.
Jeremiah grinned and flicked the mites away.
The infestation remained, but it had thinned greatly. Ashen Blessing was wearing the population down with each careful application. He doubted their current method could cleanse the entire field on its own, but it had bought them time. It had carved space for the next step.
He set his travel bag down with care and unzipped it.
Billy drifted closer, curiosity brushing warm and bright against Jeremiah’s thoughts.
Jeremiah reached inside and withdrew several items.
First, a stack of Ashen Blessing Beast talismans.
“First, we need to establish a rapport with the flock.” Jeremiah tapped the stack of talismans against his palm.
“Hazel and I have been using these to clear the mites almost every night for the past two weeks. We’ve made sure not to be seen, but we’ve also made sure to leave evidence. The Candlewicks are intelligent, even for birds. They’ll have noticed the new dustings of ash. They’ll have noticed the thinning patches of mites.”
He glanced up toward the oak, where white wings flashed between crimson leaves. “It’s time we let them see us work. If we’re lucky, they’ll connect the dots quickly. I doubt it’ll win their trust outright, but it should earn their attention.”
Mero raised an eyebrow, hovering just above Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Feels like I should remind ya, the last time you ‘got their attention’ we nearly got roasted.”
Jeremiah nodded once. “You’re not wrong. But that night, we looked like intruders creeping through their territory in the dark. We were something to drive off. Today we approach in the open. We make the cause clear.” He flexed the talismans between his fingers. “If they see us working to clear the mites, that hostility will be replaced with curiosity.”
“Fair enough,” Hazel said, folding her arms. Her tail twitched, as if already ready to get to work. “And after that?”
Jeremiah’s grin widened.
He reached into his pack again and drew out a small white birdhouse.
It was a simple thing: smooth panels, a round entry hole, and a small perch beneath it. No carved flourishes, no ornamental trim. Just solid construction and clean lines. It had been the most affordable model tied to the Grand Perch Atrium’s anchor. Not that a thousand marks was cheap.
Hazel’s brow arched higher.
“Call me pessimistic,” she said, “but I don’t think the birdies are in the market for new property.”
Jeremiah smirked.
“This isn’t just a birdhouse. It’s a gateway.”
He reached back into the bag and withdrew a scroll. The parchment shimmered faintly in the morning light, threads of mana catching along its edges.
“And with this,” he said, lifting it carefully, “we can start building something closer to trust.”
He unrolled the scroll fully and held it open between his hands.
Hazel leaned closer, one brow still raised as she scanned it.
———♛———
CONTRACT CLASSIFICATION:
[Threshold Accord | Anchor ↔ External Entity]
Status: Inactive / Pending Passage
Bond Level: [System-Sealed — Tier I]
Bond Integrity: [Stable]
Permanence: Conditional (Location-bound)
—————————
PARTY A:
Jeremiah Bridge — System-Registered User — Iteration: [Mystical Menagerie]
Authority: Recognized Anchor Holder
Willingness: [Confirmed]
—
PARTY B:
All Qualifying Entities Passing the Anchor Threshold
Classification: External, unregistered, or wild-registered beasts
Sapience: Variable
Willingness: Implied upon voluntary passage
—————————
✦ CONTRACT TERMS ✦
Non-Aggression Clause:
Any entity passing through the designated Anchor Gateway (Birdhouse Node) agrees:
• Not to attack, injure, or attempt harm against any registered resident, guest, staff member, or bonded entity within the Mystical Menagerie.
• Not to initiate or channel magic, mana discharge, elemental expression, or affinity-based abilities within shop territory.
This restriction applies for the full duration of presence within Menagerie bounds.
—
Guest Protections & Provisions:
In exchange for adherence to the Non-Aggression Clause, Party A agrees:
• To recognize all qualifying entities as Guests while within Menagerie territory.
• To provide one meal appropriate to the species and dietary classification.
• To offer voluntary medical examinations within the Recovery Wing facility (non-compulsory unless an immediate harm risk is detected).
• To ensure safe return through the Anchor Gateway upon departure.
—
Enforcement & Scope:
This contract activates automatically upon physical passage through the Anchor Gateway.
Violation of terms will result in immediate and automatic ejection from Menagerie territory and a temporary threshold lockout.
No retaliatory harm will be enacted by Party A unless defensive measures are required under separate standing contracts.
—
Duration:
Contract remains active only while the entity remains within Menagerie bounds.
Contract dissolves automatically upon exit.
———♛———