the Ash-shar

On my travels I came across these mysterious creatures more than once—most clearly when I crossed the Forest of Silence, where they seem to live. The Forest of Silence, as the name says, is a magical place where no sound exists. Walking there feels like being buried alive in a glass jar: you hear your own heart pounding and blood rushing in your ears, but your footsteps on the leaves make no sound. It’s a silence that gives no peace, forcing you to listen only to yourself. A nightmare for spellcasters… but I’m rambling. The villagers in the nearest settlement call them Ash-shar, which in the old tongue means “the Butterfly Lady,” because they look like captivating women and are always followed by many golden butterflies. People describe them as fascinating; I found them terrifying.

One night, in that dark forest, I suddenly saw—not heard, since no sound exists there—a light behind me. It wasn’t a warm, friendly glow. It was a cold, metallic gold, dancing silently between the trees as if playing. My first reaction was relief—a light, at last!—instantly smothered by dread. No harmless flame dances that way in the Forest of Silence. I spun around, expecting a growl, and found only an even deeper silence, and her.

I had just encountered one of the shadow beasts that roam the forest—a shapeless mass with too many eyes, staring hungrily before retreating. I was still shaken, adrenaline pulsing. That’s why her utter calmness chilled my blood. How could she stand so serene, so untouchable, among those horrors?

She was a beautiful woman, barefoot, wearing light clothes despite the cold, with golden eyes, deer antlers, and a golden halo that seemed almost liquid. Under her golden, expressionless stare, I felt like a page laid open before someone. No curiosity, no hostility, just absolute awareness. I tried to wave, a clumsy hello, a sign of surrender. My hands trembled. She tilted her head slightly, like an animal recognizing a distant sound, her antlers catching the light of her own halo. That’s when I understood: my terror didn’t interest her, but neither did I. It was like being watched by a star.

In the end, she didn’t harm me. I got out of the forest unharmed. In fact, a pair of her golden butterflies guided me toward the way out. As they silently escorted me to the treeline, I glanced back one last time. She stood there still, motionless, a sentinel of beauty in a kingdom of shadows. Before returning to her, the butterflies circled me once more, and one brushed my cheek. I felt a wordless question, a silent promise. That’s why one day I’ll go back. I want to understand the question, and maybe find the strength to answer.