The morning after the cellar, everything felt quieter like the forest was listening to her thoughts. Liora sat by the kitchen window, her hands holding a mug of tea she hadn't touched. Her fingers shook a little, not from the cold, but from what she had seen.
The mask haunted her. That black mask with strange marks had been lying at the bottom of the trunk, like it had been waiting for her. And those eyes, those inhuman eyes watching her through the cellar slats were still in her mind. She had barely slept, and even in daylight, she didn't feel safe.
Ysolde hadn't said anything about it. She had come back before sunrise, looking faint and tired. She only nodded when she saw Liora awake. No questions. No answers.
"Tomas will come soon," Ysolde said quietly as she poured hot water into the kettle. "You'll want to talk to him before everything starts."
"Starts?" Liora asked.
Ysolde didn't reply.
Liora looked out the window again. The vapor still hadn't lifted. It hung over the ground like a second skin. The trees were still, unmoving. Something was coming. She could feel it. She just didn't know what.
When Tomas arrived, he didn't ask questions. He brought fear. He stopped in the doorway, eyes flicking to every corner like something might jump out. His fear wasn't loud, but it was in the way he stood, stiff and alert, like a man who had seen something he couldn't forget. His fingers twitched. "It's not just the ruins," he said quietly, looking at the window. "There's something wrong in the woods. The animals are acting strange. Birds aren't singing. Even the wind doesn't move right." His voice cracked. "This isn't just old magic. Something's waking up. And I think the council knows more than they're saying. They're scared of you but I think they're more scared of what's coming."
"They found the ruins," he said as soon as he stepped inside. His clothes were wet, and his face was tense. "The council sent two scouts after you left. They found signs of old magic. They think it's dark magic."
Liora's heart dropped. "Are they blaming me?"
"They won't say it out loud," Tomas said. "But they're watching you. You and Ysolde. People are talking. Some think you brought something back."
"I didn't bring anything back," Liora said, but even to her, the words felt unsure. "I saw something, Tomas. I saw what happened to Alwen."
He looked at her, his eyes sharp. "And what did you see?"
"Betrayal," she said softly. "The fire didn't take her. She walked into it. Because they turned on her. They took her child, Tomas. She was alone."
He stepped closer. "Do you think that will happen to you?"
Liora looked at her hands. "I don't know. But I feel it. The same path is opening under me." Her fingers shook, as if remembering something her mind hadn't caught. The ring on her finger felt heavy, like it had its own heartbeat. She could almost hear Alwen's footsteps on this same path, asking the same questions. The forest's whisper had changed. It wasn't just a warning now. It was like it recognized her. It was calling her. "It's like something wants me to come," she whispered. "And I don't know if it wants me to live or give up."
Tomas gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and steady despite the worry in his eyes. "You're not alone, Liora," he said softly, his voice trying to offer comfort she wasn't sure she could believe. For a moment, she let herself lean into the weight of his presence, the strength of someone who still stood beside her despite the fear creeping into their world. But even in his reassurance, she sensed hesitation a flicker of doubt he tried to hide. It made her chest tighten. She wasn't sure if anyone could truly stand with her against what was coming.
Later that day, Liora walked alone to the edge of the forest. Ysolde had told her not to go too far, but the feeling was stronger than fear.
She needed answers.
The silver feather on her necklace caught the last light of day. It felt heavier now, like it shared her thoughts.
As she passed the tree line, the wind stirred for the first time in hours. Leaves rustled. The forest took a breath.
She walked deeper, her boots pressing into the wet earth. The silence grew thicker around her. She remembered Ysolde's words: Some shadows wait until they're called.
She stopped. Closed her eyes.
And she called.
Not with words, but with the ache in her heart. With the question burning in her since the fire. Who am I really?
The wind shifted.
Now it came from behind her soft, cold and careful like a breath over water. It wasn't just wind anymore. A feeling followed with it, sliding under her skin like a memory she couldn't name. Her body tensed as the air shifted, not with fear, but with knowing. The breeze carried something unspoken, something ancient. It wrapped around her like invisible hands, not pushing her forward but pulling urging her to follow, to listen, to remember what had been forgotten.
Follow.
She turned. Her heart pounded. Something moved between the trees not fast, not scary. Just a shape. A hint.
She followed it.
The path was unfamiliar, but her feet moved on their own, deeper and darker the trees closed in.
Then she saw it.
A clearing hidden under twisted branches. In the center stood a stone table, covered in vine. Symbols on its surface glowed faintly, like dying embers.
She stepped forward. When her fingers touched the stone, everything changed. Silence fell over the clearing. The stone was warm, alive. Whispers filled her ears not words, but memories. They pressed into her.
Not with fire but with memory.
She stood in a different place. Elderwood but not like now. It was bright, full of laughter and warmth. Children played. People smiled.
And Alwen stood among them, arms raised. She spoke not with words, but with her heart. And the people listened. They trusted her.
Then the council came.
Their robes were darker. Their eyes cold. They spoke of balance, of caution and of silence.
Alwen gave light. The council brought shadow.
Slowly, things changed. Fear grew. Laughter faded. Doors closed.
Alwen?
She became the threat.
Liora saw it all. Felt it like she had lived it. The fear. The loneliness. The betrayal.
When she blinked, it was gone.
The stone table was cold again.
But inside her, something new had grown: resolve.
She wouldn't let it happen again.
As she turned to leave, the ground shook. A small tremor.
The clearing darkened.
From the shadows, something stepped out. Not human, not fully.
Its eyes were like black glass. Its skin glowed with lines like lit up tree bark.
"Child of memory," it said, voice like wind in leaves. "You wake what should stay buried."
Liora didn't move. "Who are you?"
"A watcher," it said. "One who remembers what others forget."
"Did you see Alwen?" she asked.
"I saw everything," it said. "And I see you. The thread continues through you."
"What thread?" she asked.
"The thread of those who speak when silence is forced. Who see when others look away."
She swallowed. "Am I like her?"
"No," it said. "You are more. Because you still have a choice."
Liora stepped closer. "What happens if I keep pulling the thread?"
The creature tilted its head. "Then you unravel everything."
And then, it disappeared.
She was alone again.
But she didn't feel small anymore.
She felt dangerous.
That night, when she got home, Ysolde stood with a candle in her hand.
"You were gone too long," she said, worry on her face.
"I found something," Liora said. "No someone."
Ysolde's eyes narrowed. "What did they say?"
Liora paused. "That I have a choice."
Ysolde blew out the candle. "Then choose carefully. Power without purpose is fire without mercy."
They sat in silence.
But it didn't last long.
Just before dawn, someone knocked on the door.
Not a villager. A councilman. He wore a dark cloak with gold trim.
"We need to speak," he said, his eyes cold. "There are concerns about your presence here."
Ysolde stepped forward. "She hasn't done anything wrong."
"She's disturbed things that should stay quiet," he said. "We've received reports."
Liora stared at him. "From who?"
He didn't answer.
He handed her a parchment.
A summons to the council hall at dusk.
As he left, he spoke again.
"The past never stays buried. Some memories should stay forgotten." The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, like a warning left unspoken. Liora felt their weight in her chest, pressing down on her heart. The councilman's voice echoed in her mind, a dark reminder of things she had tried to ignore. But no matter how hard she tried to push them away, the memories clawed their way back, growing clearer and louder. There was a truth buried deep, one that only she could uncover. But was she ready to face it? Would she be strong enough to survive the truth when it finally surfaced?
He walked away.
Liora looked at the summons. Her hand shook.
Ysolde looked at her, pain in her eyes.
"They've made their move," she said.
"And I'll make mine," Liora whispered.
But inside, fear grew.
Because it wasn't the summons that scared her most.
It was that part of her wanted to see what would happen if she let go.
If she let it all burn.