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Spellbound I am, I am
—•—
No one went into the Wood alone.
It was something which was so well known that it had never been made into a law, or even a rule amongst the people of the village. If one went into the Wood, one went with companions. Hunters went in pairs to take down their game, and always kept each other within sight. Lovers who sought the secrecy of the Wood never strayed from one another. Gatherers of herb and flower crossed the border of the canopy in groups, and counted their numbers when they returned. Mothers kept close watch of their children, and the children were never allowed beneath the shadows of the trees until they were old enough to know their way home again.
No law and no rule kept those of the village from entering the Wood alone. It was simply known.
When Anthony Stark entered the Wood, there was no one at his side. Those who knew his intention lamented his madness, but did not pursue him.
—•—
The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me
—•—
He was coming.
The man who had seen him, on the edge of the Wood. The man whose eyes had widened, his lips parted, and his heart sped at sight of him. The man who had felt only a twinge of fear, but then whose blood had sung with nothing but wonder and want.
Long had Loki been a part of this world, a creature of shadow and of secrets, a flicker on the edge of sight, a whisper rustling through the leaves. Long had he known of the village and its people, and watched them from the bowers of the Wood, where none dared to tread.
None dared, and with good reason.
The shadows could grow hungry, and hungry shadows were like to catch up any likely morsel who wandered within reach.
All knew this, the danger inherent in the Wood, and of what might be found within it. Those of the village did not enter on their own, believing there to be safety in numbers.
They weren’t always right about that.
But there was always danger when one was alone.
—•—
Spellbound deep in my soul, in my soul
—•—
There had been those who had tried to stop him. They told him the stories – the stories every child was told at the knees of their parents to warn them against going into the Wood.
As though he could ever forget them. No one in the village could ever forget them. There was always one or two in every generation who did forget, and by their example ensured that those who remained would never make the same mistake.
There were none in the village who did not know at least one person who had been Lost, or from whose near family a promising branch had been nipped silently away.
Everyone knew the stories, and everyone had one of their own to tell.
Anthony heard them all again, the familiar words falling uselessly on his ears. He could hear them all, but he would not listen. He could not listen. Though he knew the foolishness of crossing into the Wood, he could not persuade himself that it was a bad thing to do. Not since he’d seen the one on the edge of the shadows. The one just within and a part of the shadows.
Their eyes still burned in his memory, the deep green fire which had reached out from the heart of the Wood and touched his. When Anthony closed his eyes, that green filled his mind. No mere memory, the green fire was watching him even now, sunk deep and unshakable.
Anthony felt no fear, felt nothing save the need to seek out the owner of the fire, to see them again. There was no resisting the draw of the one in the Wood, nor did Anthony wish to. He went willingly, seeking out the burning green.
It was why none went with him into the Wood. For there was no helping those who wished to be Lost.
—•—
In my heart burns a sizzling fire, a sizzling fire
—•—
This one was… different.
There were those, few and far between but not unheard of, who would seek out the secrets of the Wood for themselves. Those whose curiosity would outweigh their sense, whose arrogance would triumph over their caution; they would come into the Wood, certain that they could leave again possessing the knowledge they craved.
They went into the Wood alone.
They became Lost, and their stories were all that was left to haunt those they left behind.
This one, though. This one came into the Wood, and just as the others before him, he sought knowledge. There was some goal he had in entering the Wood, and he would not be deterred in that quest.
Unlike those who came before, however, this one did not intend to leave again.
Loki could feel it. The man’s heart was a brand in the dark, coming nearer and nearer as he sought out the one he had seen at the edge of the Wood. The one whom sight of had set his blood alight; the one whose memory of disturbed his thoughts, waking and sleeping.
He sought Loki, the one whom all others sought to avoid.
He sought Loki with such fervor that it set his very heart on fire.
And he didn’t care if he became Lost in the process.
He didn’t care if he ever left the Wood.
Not so long as he found Loki.
—•—
Spellbound I am, I am
—•—
The Wood pressed in on every side. It was like a weight against his skin, as though the Wood were a singular living thing in whose grip he was trapped, and it intended to squeeze the life out of him. Never before had he been so deep within its shadows, not even in company. Few ever had been. Only the most determined of hunting parties, those who had the protection of several others at their side. Surely no others would have ever dared to travel so deep, whether in company or not.
And still he had not found the one who he sought. Still he had not seen the green fire, nor felt their gaze on him from outside himself. He had only the phantom gaze within his mind, teasing him with their nearness and their distance. Close but untouchable, unknowable.
Anthony plunged deeper into the Wood.
It crossed his mind that perhaps he would not find the one whom he had seen. That he might not see them again, that he would have only the memory of their form, of their smile which had cut through the darkness of shadow. That he might he cursed to do no more than carry with him the specter of their eyes in his mind until the end of his days.
He might live his whole life never seeing them again, but knowing that they could see him every day, every moment.
It would drive him mad.
—•—
The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me
—•—
Loki watched him. It wasn’t hard. The man was a pyre amid the shadows of the Wood. He drew the eye of every creature residing there, caught their attention, their interest, their fascination.
None dared pursue him, though. As tempting as he might be to them, this ember in the dark, they were also aware of Loki, and his interest in the intruder.
None dared come between Loki and anything which caught his eye.
One did not need to come from outside the Wood to be Lost in its shadow.
And yet, he did not take the man so quickly as he might have done any other. He allowed this one his freedom, his agency to roam within the Wood. Loki was curious to see how long his fire might burn, to see if it would flicker or falter with no promise of fuel to keep it burning.
What he found was that the man’s fire only burned brighter the longer he remained. The deeper the shadows became, the brighter he glowed. The less certain his way became, the surer his steps grew. The longer the time stretched on, the more determined he became to remain as long as it took to find the one he sought.
This man was different from any others who had dared come into the Wood alone, and Loki was intrigued.
—•—
Spellbound in my heart’s root, my heart’s root
—•—
He didn’t know how long he’d been in the Wood anymore. It felt as though it had been longer than a single night, but he hadn’t seen the sun once since the canopy had closed over his head. The trees about him had not lightened or warmed with the touch of even distant sunlight.
He’d gone so deeply into the Wood that he’d found where night dwelled.
One thing which had changed significantly since he’d come to the Wood, however.
He was no longer alone.
There was something there, watching him from the outside of his mind. Several somethings, possibly. He could hear them, see them out of the corner of his eye. Inhabitants of the Wood, come to investigate this strange new creature in their domain.
They came to investigate, to see, but none ever came too close. None of them came so near that he could get a clear look at them. Always it was vague shapes and the dull glow of eyes staring from the undergrowth.
None of them held the green fire, though.
He ought to have been afraid. All he was, though, was impatient.
Impatient and stubborn, two features which had gotten him into trouble many times in the past, which had possibly led him to this place as well.
For wasn’t it his own curiosity which had led to his seeing the creature in the Wood in the first place?
One did not go into the Wood alone.
And one did not gaze too long into the shadows ‘neath the boughs lest they notice, and gaze back into you.
Such had it proven, and the gaze of the shadows had left its mark on him. Touched by shadows, Anthony chased them into the Wood, seeking the one made from them, the one who held the burning heart of the Wood itself in their eyes. Those same eyes which watched him from his thoughts, followed him throughout his days and into his nights.
There was no escaping their gaze, so why should he not seek out their source?
They had left such a mark upon his heart, why should he not seek out their heart in recompense?
—•—
My eyes gaze to where the wizard stood
—•—
He wanted this man.
That was different, as well, that wanting. Those who had come before this man Loki had taken, not because he wished to have them, but simply because they were due to him and to the Wood for their trespass.
Those who came to the Wood in the company of others, they were allowed to leave. Usually. But it wasn’t because travelling in company made the Wood any less dangerous. To Loki, there was no difference between a human who was alone, and multiple humans in a group. Neither could hope to keep him at bay, should he turn his eye on them.
But those who came in company, they showed the Wood and its shadows the proper deference. They knew the Wood, they respected it, and in their caution by never being alone, they showed that respect.
Those who came to the Wood alone, they were challengers to the sovereignty of shadow. And the shadows of the Wood were absolute in their power.
This man, this brand of light who sought out the darkness, the flame drawn to the moth, he did not challenge. He was not here to battle or defy the shadows, to prove his own worth or his capabilities.
He was here seeking the heart of the shadows out of nothing more than desire.
And that, Loki decided, was enough to finally draw him towards this glowing brand of a human.
He was of shadow and magic, a part of the Wood as no creature could possibly be. And yet, as he separated himself from the Wood and made his shape clear to the human brand who had come in search of him… the man was not afraid.
He smiled, and it was as though the sun had come to touch this place which had never known light.
“There you are,” said he, in wondering tone.
Wonder. Not dread.
“Here I am,” he agreed, and smiled despite himself. “And there are you.”
He seemed at a loss of what to say. Loki allowed him his silence, a chance to gather his thoughts. There was no hurry.
After some time, he settled on his question. “Do you remember me?”
Loki studied the man, tilting his head, and thought. “I believe I do,” he said eventually. “But I do not know you.”
“Nor I you,” the man agreed, and the light of his smile only grew. “I’m here to change all of that.”
Loki snorted. “Think you to know the heart of a god?”
“Think you that I can’t?” There was a flash of defiance in the man’s eyes, more of his fire rising to the surface. “All things may be known, given enough time and determination. And I am very determined.”
“That much is known.” He looked over the man, feeling as though he ought to do something about him. Surely this was defiance, this was a challenge to the Wood and the shadow? What was it which set this man apart from all the rest who had dared do the same, and paid for it with their lives?
His light, perhaps. Or the wish and desire Loki could still feel radiating from him in waves.
Or his own want to have this human for his own.
“Let us see how well we might come to know one another, then.”
The man smiled, and his light did not chase away the shadows. Instead, the shadows grew, and grew gentle at his touch, enveloping the light and holding it for their own.