It was odd to hear that phrase, which sounded so antiquated, come out of her teenage son’s mouth. Betsy exchanged a puzzled glance with Allen, who simply stepped aside, a solemn expression etched on his face. Betsy gasped. The figure that emerged was a spectral woman, shrouded in an ethereal glow, her appearance both haunting and mesmerizing.
“Who are you?” Betsy finally managed to ask, her voice quivering with a mix of curiosity and fear. The spectral woman regarded her with a mysterious smile. “I am the guardian of the woods,” she replied, her voice as ancient as the trees themselves. “And your son, Allen, has been chosen to fulfill a destiny that has been foretold for generations.”
