The Pineveil Chronicles
The Relic Shelf
The rain continued to fall against the workshop roof, though Gwenn barely noticed it anymore. She remained standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the shelf. It wasn't particularly remarkable. One side leaned ever so slightly, the carvings across the back panel were uneven, and the finish lacked the polish of Oliver's work. It looked exactly like what it was: the first real project built by a young apprentice. Yet something about it made it impossible to look away.
"Miss Gwenn?" Kayden asked, breaking the silence. She blinked several times before realizing both Kayden and Oliver had been watching her. Heat crept into her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said with a small laugh. "I must have gotten distracted." She stepped forward and handed Oliver the bundle of herbs she had gathered that morning. "These should help with your cough. Steep them tonight."
Oliver accepted the bundle with a quiet grunt. "I don't have a cough." Kayden smiled as he wiped sawdust from his hands. "You've been coughing for three days." Oliver scoffed. "I just cleared my throat." "You nearly scared Mrs. Hawthorne out the door yesterday!" Kayden exclaimed. Oliver shot him an unimpressed look before setting the herbs on the workbench. "You're both making far too much of it."
Gwenn smiled, but her attention drifted back toward the shelf. That strange feeling returned almost immediately, settling deep in her chest. It wasn't fear, nor was it curiosity. It felt familiar somehow, like remembering a place she had never actually been. Without thinking, she walked closer. She stopped only a few inches away. The carved pine trees along the back panel caught her attention. None of them matched exactly. Some were taller than others, some leaned slightly, and a few still carried tiny imperfections where the chisel had slipped. She found herself wondering why Kayden had chosen pine trees at all. "May I?" she asked quietly.
Oliver glanced over from the workbench. "It's only a shelf." Gwenn reached out and rested her fingertips against the wood. The warmth surprised her. It wasn't the warmth of timber sitting inside a cozy workshop or wood that had been near the stove. It felt... alive. For the briefest moment, the scent of fresh pine surrounded her. She thought she heard wind moving high through tree branches, though the workshop remained completely still. A whisper brushed against the edge of her thoughts. Not words. Not even a voice. Just the unmistakable feeling that something had noticed her.
Then it was gone.
She quickly pulled her hand away. Kayden frowned. "Are you alright?" Gwenn looked at the shelf for another moment before nodding. "Yes. I just thought I felt something." Oliver studied her carefully but said nothing. After several quiet seconds, he returned to his work as though nothing unusual had happened. The only sound inside the workshop was the slow scrape of his plane across a piece of wood and the steady rain tapping against the windows.
After chatting for a little while longer, Gwenn gathered her empty satchel and thanked them both before stepping back outside. The rain had softened into a gentle drizzle, leaving the forest smelling of wet earth and pine needles. Normally she enjoyed the walk home, but today her thoughts remained fixed on the shelf. No matter how hard she tried to dismiss the feeling, she couldn't explain why touching it had felt so different from touching any ordinary piece of furniture.
When she reached her small cottage, she unpacked the herbs she had gathered that morning and carefully laid them across the drying racks. Lavender. Yarrow. Juniper berries. Wild mint. She worked slowly, her thoughts returning again and again to the ancient pine tree hidden deep within the forest. The warmth she had felt still lingered in her fingertips, refusing to fade no matter how many times she rubbed her hands together.
Outside, evening settled over Pineveil. Lanterns began to glow in cottage windows, and the forest slowly disappeared beneath a blanket of mist. Life carried on as it always had, unaware that something had quietly begun to change.
Back at the workshop, the old shelf stood exactly where it always had beneath the window, surrounded by jars, books, and scattered tools. It looked no different than it had that morning. Hidden among the carved forest stretching across the back panel, however, one small pine tree now stood where there had once been empty wood. No chisel had touched it. No hand had carved it. And no one noticed...
The following morning, Gwenn awoke before sunrise, though she couldn't remember dreaming. The strange warmth she had felt inside the workshop lingered in the back of her mind. She told herself it had simply been a long day spent walking through the rain, yet the thought of the shelf returned every few minutes no matter what she was doing.
She busied herself with work. Patients from around Pineveil stopped by throughout the morning for remedies and advice. One man needed a salve for sore hands after splitting firewood. Mrs. Hawthorne came looking for something to help her sleep. A young mother arrived carrying a child whose scraped knees needed cleaning before they became infected. Gwenn treated each of them as she always had, measuring dried herbs, preparing teas, and writing careful instructions onto small scraps of paper.
Once the last visitor had left, the cottage grew quiet again. Gwenn welcomed the silence. She crossed to a small worktable beneath the window where neat rows of tiny ceramic pots and glass jars waited for her. Most people in Pineveil knew her for her remedies, but a handful of women from town often stopped by for something a little less practical. Using flower petals, berries, clays, beeswax, and oils gathered from the forest, Gwenn crafted small cosmetics that added just enough color to brighten a face without hiding it. She believed beauty should never cover who someone was. It should simply help them feel like the truest version of themselves.
She gently warmed a small mixture over a candle before pouring it into a waiting tin. The color reminded her of pressed rose petals after a summer rain. Beside it sat several finished pots waiting to be delivered around town, each one slightly different depending on the flowers and berries the season had provided.
On another shelf rested a collection of smooth creams stored inside simple glass jars. Unlike her lip colors, these contained no pigments at all. They were made from carefully blended botanical oils and fine clay, creating a soft velvet-like finish that protected the skin from harsh winter winds while leaving it feeling remarkably smooth. Hunters swore by it after long days in the forest, while children insisted it made their cheeks feel as soft as rabbit fur. Gwenn smiled every time she heard someone call it "the velvet cream," though she had never given it an official name.
Even while she worked, she found herself distracted. More than once she reached for the wrong herb. She nearly added rosemary instead of sage to a drying bundle, something she had never done before. By midday she finally admitted to herself that her mind simply wasn't in her work. That afternoon she decided to take a different trail into the forest. She often gathered herbs wherever they were growing best, but today her feet seemed to choose the path without asking her. The trail wound between towering pines before opening into a quiet clearing she had somehow never noticed before.
Sunlight spilled through the branches overhead, illuminating patches of moss that covered the forest floor like a soft green blanket. Wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze despite the air being otherwise still. In the center of the clearing stood an enormous pine tree unlike any Gwenn had ever seen. Its trunk was wide enough that three people together might have struggled to wrap their arms around it.
She stepped closer. The bark bore strange markings, shallow grooves that almost resembled the carved pine trees on Kayden's shelf. She ran her fingers across them, expecting to feel rough bark beneath her hand. Instead she felt warmth. The same warmth.
Gwenn pulled her hand away immediately. "What are you?" she whispered. The forest answered only with the sound of wind moving through the branches above. As she turned to leave, something caught her eye near the tree's roots. Half-hidden beneath the moss lay a small silver pendant in the shape of a pinecone. Time had darkened the metal, but every detail remained beautifully preserved. Nestled near its center was a smooth green stone that caught the sunlight with an almost living glow. Gwenn frowned. "Who would leave something like this out here?"
She brushed away the remaining moss and picked it up. The moment her fingers closed around it, a chill ran down her spine. She slipped the pendant into her satchel and continued home, unaware that somewhere else in Pineveil, an ancient relic had begun to stir.
The first thread had been woven.
The others would follow.
Thank you for reading Chapter Two of The Pineveil Chronicles.
This chapter marks the beginning of Gwenn's journey and the first quiet signs that Pineveil is far more than an ordinary town hidden within the forest. Not every mystery reveals itself all at once, and some relics have a way of choosing their keepers long before anyone realizes it.
Many of the creations I share through Pine Trees And Incense are inspired by the people, places, and relics you'll discover throughout this story. As the chapters unfold, you'll begin to recognize familiar names and objects finding their place within the world of Pineveil.
Thank you for continuing this journey with me.
Until next time...
— PTAI
© 2026 Pine Trees & Incense. All rights reserved.
The Pineveil Chronicles, its original characters, storylines, relics, locations, and lore are original works of fiction by Pine Trees & Incense. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is prohibited.
The Pineveil Chronicles is an original story created and written by Ady under Pine Trees & Incense.
Posts
0 Comments