The only way to go: forward.

The sun sank behind the boughs of the trees as Pan made her way ever deeper into the forest. Her feet were beginning to ache. A few small beads of sweat gathered at her temple; her silks clung to her. The heat loomed over her like a bully. They should have let me bring some water, she thought. She pouted to herself.

All around her, birds cried out news of the forest. Birds were notorious gossips. They chittered to each other about the surrounding villages, the migration of the local deer herds, the young witch making her way into the woods to find her bound Spirit. Pan did not speak to them, nor they to her. On the day of her Binding, a witch was forbidden to speak to any forest creature or ask their advice. There were horror stories of woodland creatures leading witches astray after being bribed by other Spirits. This way, there could be no mistakes.

Just as she was thinking it was time to sit and rest for a moment, Pan caught the sound of running water. In a nearby clearing there was a creek, flowing lazily around a large wisteria tree. The golden glow of the late afternoon sun gave the clearing a dream-like visage - even the birds had fallen silent. Pan knelt along the edge of the creek and cupped water into her hands before sipping gingerly from them. As she lowered her hands, hairs stood on the back of her neck and she whipped around. Watching her from the shadows of the forest were three eyes, shining with alien intent.

Pan stood and faced the beast, though she could not make out its form. The eyes were set like a predator's, save for the one in the center. They were a bright, electric blue, like lightning streaking through the dark. As she stared the creature down, its two eyes blinked slowly. The third did not. Pan swallowed hard.

"What are you?" She asked, though the words were strangled by her throat, and the question came as barely a whisper.

Do you not see, beloved? I am your groom.

She heard the words, with her ears and with her mind. His voice was real, and yet not. It surrounded her, seeped into her, soft as flower petals with a razor's edge. She wanted to move toward him. She wanted to run away. She wanted something she could not quite name.

Instead, she spoke again: "I do not see. What groom hides in thickets from his bride, on the day of their wedding?"

A chuckle echoed inside her, reverberating in her mind as it caressed her skin. The physical touch of his voice was maddening. She hated that sound. She loved that sound.

Your boldness is endearing. Do you wish to see me, dear one? I will indulge you.

It was as if he slithered from the shadows. His face was long, like that of a fox. Glistening fangs flashed white in a grin that split his face all the way to his canine ears. His forelimbs looked similar to human arms, save that they were a tad too long. The hands were black, as a fox's paws would be, with long spindly fingers tipped with claws; his digitigrade legs were black as well. Everything about him was impossibly long: his neck, his torso, his limbs, his three tails. His fur was the color of autumn, thick and luxurious. It was as if some creature of nightmare had wrapped itself in a fox's skin.

Kethaeros, the Revealer of Secrets.

Pan took a step back. Kethaeros chuckled again, moving to lounge at the base of the wisteria tree. As he did so, the purple flowers appeared to... breathe? They expanded and deflated ever so slightly, and Pan could have sworn she heard them sigh. Did all Spirits have such a presence?

Are you afraid of me?

“No," she lied.

Then approach me.