When I sat down to work on this tale, I stared at the image below for quite a while. Nothing came to mind at first, so I asked ChatGPT to take a look and suggest some prompts. It obediently spat out several, so many, in fact, that I may return to this image for additional stories in the future. But for the moment, I only needed one. And one of them instantly caught my eye. Unfortunately, that spark didn’t exactly lead to a full story, let alone a partial idea.
However, after a few back-and-forths with the AI, I managed to tease out a memory of an old character of mine—a personal take on the Puck archetype. He never fully introduces himself in this story or in any of the others he’s wandered through, but allow me to do it for him: this fae’s name is Gaius Palesoul.
With my characters in place and the prompt reshaped to match the tone I wanted, everything began to click. Sometimes, the most powerful journeys begin with a single step. They may start simply, but when they’re rooted in mystery, memory, and choice, they often bloom into something far greater. These threads shape us, just as they shape stories. When they come together to form a single strand, the become greater than they were individually.
Elena’s journey begins in a forest, where she finds a strange world and a rhyming stranger. Grab a seat and join me as we learn what lies at the end of her thread.
Elena hadn’t meant to leave the trail, but her feet had other plans, getting her lost. After several minutes of searching, she caught a glimmer of light through the dense foliage, nothing more but enough to spark hope. Moments later, that simple flicker flared to life as she glimpsed more through the trees. She ducked branches as she weaved about the roots and vines. Each silent footfall landed on moss as she navigated the maze by the light seeping through the foliage.
When she burst forth from the tree line, she stumbled, dropping to her hands and knees as if the very air had stolen her strength. The cool grass cushioned her fall. When she dared to lift her gaze, the world around her bloomed in silent wonder. Mist glided like breath across the ground, while a wide silver river cut through the clearing, its surface still as glass.
Above the forest’s canopy, the clouds continued their slow drift across the lavender sky, like ink in water. Two stone arches, glowing with a faint violet light, stood beside each other on the shore. After climbing to her feet, she stumbled toward them, her breath catching. Each framed the same river cutting through a forest. Complete with a crooked branch jutting out to hang over the water and a black crow, with slick and motionless feathers, perched upon it.
As her gaze bounced between the views, the birds did the same thing. Resting motionless on their perches as they stared at her. Elena ignored them and resumed studying the images. The trees were the same. The rocks were the same. Everything seemed identical between the two images.
A gust stirred the mist, pulling it about her. As Elena whirled about, a low and melodic voice shattered the silence. “Ah, a threadwalker, bold and bright. Be ye drawn by fate or chance or fright?”
“What!? Who’s there!?”
A figure tumbled from the canopy, landing in a crouch. The rail-thin figure, no taller than a teenager, rose with a grin too wide for his face. A shadow of mirth curled behind his eyes as he bowed. When he rose, he stepped toward Elena, his hands drifting behind his back.
She reflexively stepped away from the newcomer, covering her mouth. “Who — What are you?”
The creature discarded an invisible hat with an exaggerated flourish. “Gaius, fool, guide, and test. I wear many names, none I detest. I keep the paths where threads unwind. It’s up to me to judge the walkers who dare to find.”
Elena’s head shook as she inched away. “What do you mean, judge?”
The creature danced a half-circle around Elena as his arms whipped about. “One path leads to the world that’s yours. The other? A shadow locked behind doors. Choose wrong, and you’ll be forced to stay. In someone else’s skin, day after day.”
Elena faced the portals. “They’re identical. How am I supposed to make a choice between them?”
Gaius clapped his hands like a giddy child. “Some weep, some choke. But some possess sight that burns through the smoke. Some find the thread that truths conceal. The path that bends, the world that’s real.”
She stepped to the portal on her right and resumed studying it. It was the same scene. Everything was unchanged. Even the crows blinked in eerie unison, as though sharing a thought. Even her reflection flickered in the arch. She returned to the second one and sensed something lurking at the wood’s edge. A sliver of red flickered from near the shore. It was barely visible, half-buried in moss. When she leaned closer, she realized it was a scarf.
After another examination, she realized it was torn at one end. It was hers. Though she’d lost it three years ago, while she was hiking on a mountain. A gust of wind had yanked it from her. She’d searched for hours, but she never caught sight of it. The scarf wasn’t expensive, just simple wool. But it had been her father’s last gift before the end. No one else should have it. No one else could. When she looked at the other portal, she confirmed the scarf wasn’t there. Her fingers trembled, and she curled them into fists. The scarf held a whispered goodbye she refused to forget.
The creature leaned on an invisible cane, watching her with a sly smile. “Well? Tick and tock, the clock does call. One step forward or lose it all.”
Elena didn’t rush. She took one final breath, then stepped through the portal on her left. As she crossed, the world shimmered, light flared, and a soft chime filled the forest. When everything settled, the pale blue sky showed her she was home.
Gaius stood at the clearing’s edge, hands on hips, grinning wider than before. “Well done, well done! I tip my hat! So few spot that. Most chase echoes, pale and wrong. But you knew your thread all along.”
Elena walked to the scarf and lifted it from the moss. As a tear tumbled down her cheek, she squeezed the damp fabric from her father. “This is real.”
“Genuine choice, genuine time. You walked the thread with reason and rhyme.”
She looked back at him. “What’ll happen to the other version of me?”
He tilted his head as he rose off the ground. “A question sharp, but none may say. Some truths twist and drift away. That path is sealed, no turning back. Your world is whole. No fear. No crack.”
The crow took wing from its branch, circling above before vanishing into the trees. Elena secured her scarf, then stepped onto the lost path. The forest felt warmer than before.
“If ever lost, if threads run thin. Recall the rhyme and look within.” Gaius waved goodbye, disappearing as she watched.
With her scarf reclaimed, she turned around and set off on the path. With her trail rediscovered and the scarf tucked away in her coat, Elena walked on, a threadwalker once lost, now found.