"…Ohh."
The sound slipped out of Aiden before he could stop it, torn between awe and disbelief.
His eyes widened, pupils dilating in the gloom as though struggling to drink in what lay before him.
A secret chamber had opened like the mouth of the earth, and within its hushed walls he beheld something not wrought of steel or stone, but of quiet humanity.
There, upon a low wooden cot, a woman lay as if sculpted from dawnlight itself.
Her body was soft, plump, draped in a gown of green so deep it seemed grown from the very tree that cradled the room.
A circlet of living wood crowned her faintly glowing hair, strands the color of forest spring, bound in braids that had come undone in her sleep.
Her chest rose and fell in fragile rhythm, one arm curved around the small form of a child pressed against her.
The little girl's fingers clutched the fabric of her mother's gown, even in unconsciousness refusing to let go.
Something beautiful. Something utterly—utterly—gorgeous.
