Submission (#7980) Approved

Bellmoril’s forests were alive with the sound of birdsong and breeze, the morning mist slow to retreat beneath the canopy. Everywhere the eye could settle, vibrant amber and russet leaves clung to branches like fire colored lace. Mushrooms peeked from fallen logs and damp earth, shy and content in the moist underbrush, as though waiting for someone who might properly appreciate their charm.

Shimmer didn’t mind the lingering damp, it made everything feel a little softer. Her paws barely made a sound on the mossy path, her breath clouding in the cool air as she glanced to her side. Gloom had darted ahead again, his notebook already in paw, nose low to the ground as he scoured the roots for anything with a cap.

“Careful,” Shimmer called lightly. “Watch for burrbramble, it’ll stick to your tail again.”

“I know, I know!” Gloom waved dismissively, but she noticed he took a slightly wider step around the next patch of brush.

From the shadow trailing Shimmer’s side, Glimmer’s face peeked out. Her eyes blinked up at Shimmer before she silently slipped free of the silhouette, soft feet padding across the forest floor. Her ears twitched toward Gloom, and without needing to be told, she quietly padded after him. Glimmer had always been a calm companion, one who spoke more in glances and gestures than sound. A good match for Shimmer’s quiet watchfulness, and a tremendous help when Gloom’s curiosity wandered faster than his legs could keep up.

The deeper they ventured, the more Bellmoril opened up in golden layers, with birch trees forming elegant arches overhead. Farther off, a brook babbled over smooth stones, its banks framed by thick carpets of leaf litter and delicate orange mushrooms that clustered at its edge like nature’s lanterns. Gloom was in heaven.

“Bellcap!” he exclaimed suddenly, crouching down to examine a small, speckled mushroom with a gently domed cap. “It’s even got the little frill underneath! Mum, look!”

Shimmer smiled and walked over, lowering herself beside him. “Good eye. Bellcaps only grow in places with really rich soil and slow rain. That frill means it’s mature, but still fresh.”

Gloom grinned. “I’m gonna sketch it before we pick it. I want to get the shape right.”

He got to work immediately, tongue peeking from one side of his mouth, pencil scratching in fast loops. Glimmer sat beside him and gently batted a fallen leaf off his page.

Shimmer leaned back slightly to take in the forest, feeling her shoulders relax. For once, Gloom wasn’t sprinting off or getting startled by his own imagination. The calm, golden quiet of Bellmoril suited him. It suited all of them.

Then...something shifted.

A hush fell, but not the kind that brings fear. The leaves rustled less, the birdsong faded, and a peculiar glint shimmered between the trunks. It began as a single streak of pale purple light, descending from somewhere high above the canopy. It hit the ground like a falling star, but soundless, and where it landed, a small mote of light bloomed. Then another. Then ten more.

Shimmer’s ears perked. “Gloom. Stay close.”

He looked up from his sketch. “It’s the light showers!”

Glimmer was already back at Shimmer’s side, half phased into her shadow, only her little ears and wide eyes visible against the moss. Shimmer stood slowly, tail curling as she scanned the sky. The beams were soft this time, streaks of color weaving down like brushstrokes. No thunder, no weight to the air, just light, and motion, and quiet.

The motes danced as they settled, glowing briefly near the moss or tucked beneath exposed roots, vanishing entirely if they brushed a shadow. Shimmer watched in fascination as one came near her paw, only to flicker out before touching her own.

“It’s like fireflies,” Gloom whispered, stepping into her side and peeking around her legs.

“Mmhm.” Shimmer exhaled. “But softer. Less... urgent than last year.”

She remembered the last time light storms had swept across Eyre, how the sky had cracked open and beams had fallen hard and fast, like divine arrows. This was different. These motes seemed to be falling gentler, like rain on a soft spring day. 

Gloom stuck his paw out, trying to catch one. It missed his fur by an inch and disappeared before it touched the shadow he cast. “Do you think it’s because of spirits?”

“Could be,” Shimmer murmured. “Something’s changed, for sure. Look how they avoid the dark.”

The beams kept coming in irregular waves, soft hues of green and gold now joining the sky. A few landed ahead, near the mushrooms Gloom had sketched. He stepped forward instinctively, then stopped when Glimmer leapt out of the shadows to block him.

“Hey!” he protested, but she gave a quiet huff and nosed him back gently.

“Listen to her,” Shimmer said, padding over. “We still don’t know what these things do. Pretty doesn’t always mean safe.”

Reluctantly, Gloom returned to her side, though his eyes stayed fixed on the motes.

They stood together for a long moment, watching as the storm pulsed on, streaks settling between the trees like ribbons. The shadows on the forest floor were still clear, still sharp. Every time a mote touched a dark patch, it flickered and vanished.

“Do you think...” Gloom began, frowning slightly, “...that the shadows are eating the light? Or hiding it?”

Shimmer blinked, glancing down at her own. Glimmer peeked out again, expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” she said at last. “Or maybe they’re just a door the light hasn’t figured out how to open.”

Gloom considered that, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

They waited until the beams thinned and the last motes flickered out, the forest slowly brightening again in natural tones of gold and orange. Birds began to chirp once more. A breeze tugged at the canopy.

Shimmer exhaled. “Alright. Let’s finish your mushroom hunt before it gets too late.”

Gloom beamed and bolted ahead, with Glimmer quickly zipping along his shadow like a second heartbeat.

Shimmer lingered a moment longer, watching the spot where the light had touched the ground and then disappeared—leaving nothing behind but disturbed moss.