Brendan finally arrived at the "magical" tree. He slowly immersed his hand inside it, followed by his whole arm, then he paused still for a moment in hesitation. He took one long breath and then, without thinking it through, he pushed his whole body into the tree.
Brendan found himself exposed to what looked like some kind of unknown dimension. Behind him, where he had used as an entrance into the tree was only a vertical black slit, like a cut, which meant he could still use it as a door when he needed to leave. He did not think he would want to stay there too long. One madness at a time, he thought.
He exercised as much caution as possible. The temperature there was much cooler. There were trees and vegetation everywhere, but more beautiful and more colorful than the Bradwield forest itself. Nearby were a small stream and a hundred yards to the north of the stream was a small cottage with brick walls and a thatched roof. It looked as if no one had lived in it for a long time. He decided to investigate.
The door was wooden and the cottage reminded him of the fairytales Howard used to read him when he was younger. Nothing about the structure screamed "run!" however, and he had not seen anything else so far that was worth running from. He remembered seeing two butterflies leapfrogging each other in the air the moment he made it inside the tree which reassured him that no witch would share a space with something as tranquil and gentle as a butterfly. He sighed nervously before knocking twice but no answer came. So he opened the wooden door.
The house was messy. The first object he noticed in the cottage was a huge black cauldron made of heavy and thick metal in the center of the room with green smoke coming from it. There were many grasses and strange plants scattered inside the house. There was no couch or any kind of furniture that he could see. There were two other doors inside the cottage to the left and ahead which made him believe the cottage only had at least three rooms.
He slowly stepped forward to look inside it.
'I see I have a visitor.' The woman was at least an inch taller than he was. She had long black hair and to his surprise, she was extremely beautiful. A mouth that sagged at the edges but only to elevate the pout of her black rosy lips, her hair darker than long nights with not a speck of light in it, acting as a veil to most of her wonderful face as though one look could turn a man into stone. Her cheekbones slightly showed, just two lumps, like marshmallows that added an attractive slimness to her already majestic features.
'Are you the witch, Finch?' He spoke with confidence in his voice still trying to ignore her looks.
'I'm a sorceress but yes, I am Finch,' she answered, her tone as ominous as the drone of her voice. She had a lazy but pleasant voice. She wore a long black dress and black high heel shoes. Everything she had on was black in color as if she was going to a funeral and her eyes were a curious looking brown. 'Ooh, so handsome,' she complimented him whilst walking towards the cauldron.
'Let's cut the chitchat. I came here for answers.'
'Answers to what, my love? What troubles you?' She circled the rim of the cauldron with the tip of her finger as she spoke, her eyes looking him up and down.
'It's about my biological parents.'
She stared at him with a solemn look. 'Are you the boy of legend?' she asked him, maintaining her serious gaze.
'What "boy of legend"?'
'Have you not heard the rhyme?'
'What "rhyme"?'
' "From rags and dirt he rose to fame, blessed with wealth and riches but no name, with strength no man could ever possess, and the speed of gods that could never be matched." '