Brammelwurz and the Fairy Zelda

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The night was silent as Brammelwurz strode through the ancient fern vault. Only his breath and the soft clinking of the amulet dangling from his hand on a leather thong accompanied him. This amulet was spun from amethyst glass—a gift from the Hourweavers of Eloriath, who once advised him, "If you ever stand before the gate of the Whispering Paths, hold it against the darkness." And here it was—the gate. Mossy pillars rose like sleeping sentinels, the stonework entwined with time and root. At its center pulsed a dark vortex, barely visible, as if the night itself were trapped within. Brammelwurz lifted the amulet. At once, a thread of purple glow rose, a whisper of memory and anticipation. The air vibrated—and with a touch of chime, she appeared. Zelda. The fairy floated lightly, like a cloud of pollen. Her body glowed greenish, semi-translucent, her wings vibrating like dewdrops in the wind. Her eyes—unfathomably deep—recognized him immediately. "You have returned, little guardian." Brammelwurz bowed slightly. "I have heard the call of the old ways. And I bear questions that only oblivion itself knows the answer to." Zelda smiled gently. "Then come closer, but do not fear what opens." She touched the amulet's band of light, and with a soft sigh, a crack peeled from the darkness. The gate breathed a sigh, and Brammelwurz felt memories that were not his tug at his consciousness. "What is this place?" he whispered. "A space in between," Zelda said, "where dreams wander before they are born. Here rest the shards of lost spells, spoken names no one calls anymore. You seek something—but perhaps something will find you first." She led him inside. The world beyond was soft, fleeting—a forest of shadowy light, where mushrooms grew with whispering mouths and trees shimmered like amber. Small crystals lay between the roots, dripping music. Brammelwurz walked slowly, deliberately, for he knew: nothing here was accidental. "Zelda," he asked finally, "why did you wait?" "Because you're the last one who still knows how to listen." She placed a hand to his forehead. Images rushed to mind—an ancient library, a crumbling book with a missing chapter, a garden of time dust. "You carry a name that was never written. And I need it to free my sisters." Brammelwurz didn't understand everything, but he felt the weight in his pocket. The Sidestone. A fragment from the Spore Library. He handed it over carefully. Zelda took it in her hand – and the air trembled. "Thank you," she said. "The Name will awaken. And when it does, the next Gate will reveal itself." She touched his forehead one last time – and disappeared. The gate behind him was no longer there. Only a single, glowing mushroom remained. Brammelwurz bent down, picked it up – and strode on.