The elders often mentioned the tales of The forest of Runes to those who deserved to hear it, in all the land stories were spread to innocent ears about the magic that this forest was hiding.

As years passed and the forest grew old, the puzzles of the Runes became a legend, as the forest itself. If it wasn’t for this tale, this place would have disappeared as quickly as it has arrived in the hearts of the youngsters.

If you happen to stumble upon these woods, you’ll find through these majestuous vegetations not much civilization, only a few woodpeckers, and if maybe you’re lucky a red throat bird settling his nest somewhere.

But if you are one of those who like to find more than meets the eye; by looking close enough, you’ll find the Engineer’s house where an engineer lived with his only son in the secrecy of this woodland.

The Engineer was born from a family of Engineers, from father to son, (never had they birthed a daughter, for whatever yet explicable reason).

Therefore, he became an engineer the day he was born, it was in its blood sooner than he could have the proper capacity to comprehend it. His father was successful, famous in his small village for his inventions, the most important being an object that could tell the difference between hot and cold weather, it also calculated the prediction for the next day.

This technological masterpiece was praised in his village, unfortunately, a malicious merchant visiting from the city had stolen the Engineer’s object and sold it under his own name.

Their modest house thus never became a castle and our Engineer grew up in poverty.

As he birthed a son, he escaped the misery of the city and settled in these woods.

It seemed like the tradition of engineers had stopped the day he left and gave a common first name to his son; Arch.

Their main source of distraction had been fishing and cultivating tomatoes, carrots, and all kinds of fruits for the past fifteen years. The other source of distraction that took a lot of space was enigmas, charades, and games. Indeed, the Engineer had never lost his taste for inventing and creating. He thus created all sorts of puzzles for Arch.

Arch was clever but he grew up a loner, not by choice; he had few neighbors, in fact, he had none. Not even animals were to be seen in this desolate forest.

Arch always seemed to be thinking about something so important that it couldn’t wait even if he was in the middle of a conversation (with the Engineer). He thought that the engineer invented all these riddles for him to solve to distract him from the emptiness of the woods, or maybe it was to have something to discuss; as his father was not able to discuss something that seemed abstract or unlogical, they thus had few subjects of conversation available.

Eventually, the riddles became so easy for Arch that he had to pretend to take some time to resolve them not to upset the Engineer. No, the engineer’s enigma would not distract him, the thing that would be this place, deep in the woods; it was a commonly large area where trees decided together, for whatever be their reason, that they should not grow there. Instead, they left the space for a family of all kinds of rocks of all kinds of sizes who decided to get settled in this mystical place.

What made this rock reunion interesting was the one disposed of at the center of all, he looked like the leader of the group, he had two holes in the center, they looked like they could be his eyes. Arch liked to come here to draw the rocks.

What he preferred about this place was that from here he could hear the birds singing, not only during the morning but all day long, the singing was acoustically perfect through the wind chanting between the branches of the trees disposed all around the place. It was great for him; Arch hated silence, silence would only make his brain think louder, which hurt sometimes. He knew there was something special about these rocks, they were a riddle of their own.

Every single night the Engineer would disappear for a couple of hours. He said that there was a certain type of fish, the best one ever created, that got out from hiding only at night, he called it the Owl Fish. Arch, being Arch, always wondered if nightly fishing was the only reason for the Engineer to leave, but he trusted him. Plus every morning he got to eat delicious fish, so that was enough for him, for now at least.

The days were pretty much the same, Arch woke up, resolved his morning riddle written on the board in the kitchen, that morning it was; “Bob was found dead in his habitation this morning, the reports say he died from asphyxiation. He was found by a table which was next to his window, on the floor near water and glass.” At the bottom of the enigma, it was written: “If you have some difficulty, remember to start from the beginning, good day son.”

That’s a nice thing to think about so early in the day thought Arch, sarcastically. Then again as he sipped from the cup of tea he mastered to make, he thought. Bob is a fish... Well, he was a fish.

After the morning riddle was found as fast as it was read in his mind, he went on and read from the shelves. Even though Arch was far from civilization it did not keep him away from literature, from the history of all the parts of the land and from all the tongues commonly used or previously used in time; he could speak four of them perfectly; Latin, English, Hebrew and even the Adad, which was a tongue mostly used in ancient time by all creatures, but this was more of an imaginary tongue, as creatures were legends.

At least he had never seen them in real life; if they did exist, it was before Arch’s birth, he thought.

As he started practicing his Hebrew he looked at the clock, it was past twelve and the engineer was nowhere to be found. The Engineer’s day started at seven in the morning, after a small walk in the forest, he would start to write or fix broken things. There was always a broken thing to fix, even if it was manageably working; it could be broken to the Engineer.

That morning, he was not fixing things, he was in bed. Arch knew it wasn’t a good sign, he thought that it was now the Engineer that needed fixing.

The next morning, Arch knew that there weren’t going to be any riddles written on the board, he knew but for the first time in his life, some part of him hoped he was wrong.

He wasn’t. As the days went by the Engineer did not move, Arch said nothing and took care of him, it became so bad that at some point he decided it was time for him to start hunting for Owl fishes, he could not bear another one of these berries.

And so he went that night, looking for those mysterious fishes, but nothing, not a single fish was to be seen in the pond.

Feeling sorry for himself he went home. The next day, still nothing. These invisible fishes became somewhat of an obsession, he had to figure this out. He tried everything he could think of. The day he finished building a bigger fishnet after a week worth of work it was officially his last resource. As he spent his night in the pond with his fishnet able to catch a shark, he heard a voice from afar. He couldn’t comprehend what the voice was saying but it seemed to attract him to the rock place where he spent his days. For once in his life he wasn’t thinking as the voice made his legs move to the place, only in front of him as he arrived; a magnificent deer was staring at him. This magical encounter happened in total darkness but he could see the deer perfectly, with the beast’s piercing stare and his posture that could make you reconsider the whole disposition of the animal chain.

The animal didn’t move, but he spoke, or at least the voice came from him as he said;

La fée du lac

Dors quand le soleil arrive

La fée du lac

Réveille toi, je t’en prie

Donne moi ce que l’on m’a pris

Femme veuve je suis

Si seulement tu pouvais remonter le cours du temps.

As Arch began to understand that he didn’t know everything about this forest as he thought he did he was also surprised by his own reaction to the incident; he did not feel any bit of uneasiness or fright, he just felt like he had to know more. As the poet was disappearing from view he went back to the river to find a second spectacle he was not ready for; a thousand shimmering lights glowing through the movement of the water, it was the fishes; the ones he tried to find for a week, and here they were casually swimming as any magical fish in any magical pond.

He went home with a dozen fish to feed the Engineer; normally that fact would make him very satisfied but at that moment all that Arch could think of was how to solve this beautiful mystery.

“La fée du Lac”, he said out loud without realizing it, it was a Latine tongue, he thought. It looked like this old tale his mother would put him to bed with.

It was about a fairy living in a river who could grant a wish to those who could wake her up. Of course, the wish could be everything you’ve ever wanted; you could wish for fame, for love, or even death for the evilest, this kind of magic like this should not be granted to just anyone; but fortunately, it was well protected. Thousands of souls would try to get this one wish; they would fish for the fairy, dance, or even scream her name. Alas, the fairy’s sleep remained uninterrupted for centuries. But of course, a tale wouldn’t be one if it didn’t meet someone who changed the course of history; A woman once was tumbling around this lake; her mind was blurred by the worst pain one can know; the loss of the love of her life. The only thing to ease her suffering would be to sing about it.

Unfortunately, Arch always fell asleep at that point in the story.

As he walked back to his modest house, he wondered how the story ended. He sat next to the poor Engineer, struggling to open his eyes as if it was the hardest thing in this world. Arch told him everything; the fishes, the deer, and the tale; he asked the engineer’s mind to work one last enigma. His father was too weak to resolve a puzzle, he was not, however, to give his son another one. His trembling fingers lifted until they pointed in a direction; in a small unseen corner of the room where a tiny instrument sat peacefully, with the regret of never having been used. Arch began to manipulate the holy object; it had four strings and was not bigger than his arm. On the back of it, a compact engraved writing said; To Anabelle

Can you consider someone to be your mother if you don’t remember meeting her or even heard her name once or twice in your lifetime?

Arch’s mother got sick before he could talk; he always figured that the reason why they moved to the forest was due to the Engineer’s frustration of not being able to fix her; save her. Despite his ingenious mind, he had no power over death. He even stopped being an Engineer officially the day he left the city; how can you be one if your inventions are not used. He was just a man who loved puzzles, who loved them so much he became one.

Arch knew what he had to do; as he wished the Engineer a good night; he picked up his mother’s instrument and went to the rocks.

Arch played around with it whilst reciting the poem he had carefully memorized:

La fée du lac

Dors quand le soleil arrive

La fée du lac

Réveille toi, je t’en prie

Donne moi ce que l’on m’a pris

Femme veuve je suis

Si seulement tu pouvais remonter le cours du temps.

Arch felt a thrill he’d never felt before when he realized that the enigma was more difficult than this as nothing moved in the peaceful forest, he sang until the instrument’s wood reflected the rising sun and he decided it was time to rest.

He would not however rest upon this puzzle as Arch felt that if resolved, this puzzle would answer the questions hanging in his mind about his father.

Every night as he fished enough to fill his father’s heart, in the hope of seeing him getting well again, he reflected upon this mystery.

Why would the Engineer lead him to this instrument, it meant that he knew about everything. That must be the reason for his nightly strolls around the forest. It was difficult to solve this puzzle with so little help from his puzzled father. The Engineer never really talked; he talked about the woods sometimes, never of hope, he may speak of why he believed technology has been wrongfully used throughout time, never of love. He did give some advice at times, but they were quite a challenge to understand; “Son, if you are lost it only means that you are standing too close.”

Arch went back to the forest that night and thought about this in more depth. He was lost, indeed, but how was he standing too close? He wrote down the poem on his sketchbook around drawings of all kinds of rocks. As he wrote it down he remembered that most of his dad’s advice was given to him when he needed to solve a charade, they were everyday written on the bottom of the board, and they were always more difficult to understand than the enigma in itself. And a sentence resonated in his mind from the last enigma: “If you have some difficulty, remember to start from the beginning, good day son.”

The Engineer was truly a genius, he thought as he placed his hand on the poem hiding it all except for the first syllables of every sentence:

                    La

                     Do

                       La

                        Ré

                         Do

                         Fe

                         Si

He had solved it, all the advice, the enigmas, they all served for this one. Arch ran, as fast as he could, as he did images appeared in his mind, the Engineer, his mother, or maybe only her eyes, he remembered her eyes; they were as blue as the fish pond when the owl fishes glowed at night. His attention slipped when he felt rain in his cheeks, running faster on his skin than he was. But it wasn’t raining. Arch didn’t have the time to understand what he felt and went to his home to grab his instrument.

Arch finally sat down in this sacred place with this musical clue which became an answer in his hand. He began to play the notes;

                             La

                Do

                             La

                       Ré

                  Do

                            Fa

                                     Si.

And again, he played the notes until it was all that he could hear; the trees stopped duetting with the wind, the crickets paused their chorus and the water running in the pond waited for Arch to finish. It was as if the forest was one spectator who stopped her activity to listen to Arch play his song.

Until a light appeared on Arch’s forehead, a blue bright light and Arch looked up; what he saw felt like the accomplishment of his life. The rock in the center of the forest, the one that was missing his eyes had found them; it looked at Arch with two bright blue eyes and almost seemed to tell him; “You solved it.”

As Arch thought it was done, he heard a powerful noise of rocks crashing on the small mountain behind the starring rock. The mountain he had known since he was a child opened in half in front of his staggered eyes, and soon enough separated into two distinctive parts which formed an entry. The most uncanny was yet to be discovered when the entry lighted with the same blue light as the rock’s eyes. Arch realized it was not over; he had to get to this mysterious passage, not knowing what will be found on the other side of it, it was at this moment his destiny; the mountains opened for him, he was sure.

He needed only one thing done before he went on this promising journey.

Arriving beside the Engineer bed, he told the most unusual tale; the one he had just lived. The Engineer’s face drew a most surprising smile, he was relieved; as if he had waited for his only son to solve this adventure so that he could die in peace. The Engineer pointed to under his bed for there was something addressed to Arch; a chest, inside there were a thousand of unopened and unstamped letters, besides it, an old compass attached to a chain.

Arch took the objects and knew he would never separate from them. He said goodbye to his dear father containing his pain in his throat and went on.

The last thing he will see from this secretive man will be a smile and tendered eyes in his direction which says; “I am proud, son.”

Arch knew it was the last time he would take this old trail to that place from his house and he tried to open the compass; unfortunately, it refused to open. It must be a family heirloom as it was conserved with care. He would learn everything from the letters, he guessed.

As he attached the compass around his neck and packed the letters in his modest travel bag, he took a last gaze at his friend, the rock, and on that, he stepped into the blue light.