The silver light from the lantern had faded behind them, but Elarien still felt its warmth in her chest. With each step through the whispering woods, the trees grew taller, older, and the air turned still and thoughtful—like a place remembering its dreams.
They came to a quiet hill, where moss grew thick and soft, and stones peeked from the earth like sleeping eyes. The wind slowed. The silver wolf stopped and looked toward the top.
"This place is watching," Elarien whispered.
The wolf nodded.
These are the stones that remember. They have seen the pain of those who walked before. And they carry it gently.
Elarien stepped forward, drawn by the hush in the air. Each stone she passed was etched with symbols—stars, spirals, tiny wolves, and eyes. Some had cracks. Others shimmered faintly, as if holding onto something long past.
At the top of the hill stood the largest stone.
It was shaped like a door, though no door was carved into it.
Only a single mark: a leaf falling through a circle of light.
As Elarien touched the stone, a hum moved through her fingers.
Suddenly, the world changed.
She stood in a memory.
Not hers.
A girl's voice cried out. A different girl—one with dark curls and fierce eyes.
"I won't forget him," she said, holding a boy's hand.
They stood beneath a stormy sky, and rain fell on their faces.
Then the image blurred, and another came.
A small boy, kneeling before the same stone.
"Please," he whispered, "bring her back."
Tears fell from his eyes, and the wind blew the leaves around him like a thousand whispered prayers.
Elarien's heart ached.
"These stones… they hold sorrow."
Yes, the wolf said softly. But not to trap it. To honor it. Pain, when remembered with love, becomes light.
A final memory rose.
A woman standing alone, her arms wrapped around herself.
"I forgive myself," she said.
Then she touched the stone and walked away, smiling.
The vision faded.
Elarien's hand fell away.
The stone before her pulsed once—low and steady—like a heartbeat.
She turned to the silver wolf.
"I want to leave something here."
He said nothing, only waited.
From her satchel, Elarien took out the scrap of ribbon that had tied her mother's journal. It was faded and frayed, but still held the scent of lavender.
She tied it gently around a small stone at the base of the great one.
"For her. And for me," she said.
The stone glowed.
And the wind whispered her name.
Elarien.
She smiled.
She turned from the hill, the wolf at her side, and walked on.
The stones behind her watched.
And remembered.