They moved single file through the thinning mist, the new woman—who called herself Mara—walking near the center of the group. She carried no visible weapon, just a thin satchel made of twisted reeds and cloth that hung limply from her shoulder.
Caleb kept glancing back at her.
Something about her gait was… off. She stepped around certain patches of ground with practiced precision, as if following an invisible trail. Sometimes she tilted her head, as though listening to something only she could hear.
By midday, the trees opened into a low, rocky stretch where light—dim and fractured though it was—actually reached the ground. Hana suggested stopping to eat what little they'd saved from the trapped beast the night before.
Mara stood apart, eyes fixed on the treeline.
"You don't eat?" Petra asked, tossing her a strip of cooked meat.
Mara caught it without looking and held it in her palm, not biting.
"I eat," she said softly. "But not this. The forest marks its kills."
Caleb frowned. "You think it's poisoned?"
"Not poisoned. Remembered," Mara replied, eyes still scanning the woods. "It knows who ate its dead."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Dev muttered something under his breath and took another bite anyway.
Caleb knelt beside Mara. "You said you've been running from the faceless flame. How long?"
"I don't count days anymore," she said, voice flat. "The sun's not honest here."
"Where were you before?"
She turned her gaze to him finally—and her eyes were sharp, alive in a way that felt unnatural. "Farther in. Past the Thorn Corridors. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come back."
Biran overheard and scoffed. "Come back? Nobody goes deeper into this hell and comes back."
Mara didn't answer. Instead, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded piece of thick, water-stained parchment.
It was a map—but nothing like the sketches in Caleb's diary.This one was painted in inks that shimmered faintly under the pale light, showing ridges, rivers, and forests in jagged, almost living lines. Whole regions were marked with strange glyphs, circles, and spirals.
Alya crouched closer. "Where did you get this?"
"I made it," Mara said simply.
Petra leaned over. "You've been everywhere on this?"
"No," Mara said. "Only where it let me go."
Caleb studied the map. Some landmarks matched what was in the diary. Others… didn't exist there at all. In the center was a vast, dark blotch labeled with a single curling symbol.
"What's this?" he asked, pointing to it.
Mara's lips thinned. "The place where the forest dreams. You don't go there unless you want it to remember your name."
Hana's arm tightened protectively around Ivy.
"You mean—like it remembered your group?" Hana asked.
Mara's expression didn't change, but something in her posture stiffened.
"I mean it never forgets," she said. "And some of us… it follows."
That night, they camped beneath a half-collapsed cliff face. Mara sat apart again, tracing a finger across the shimmering ink of her map, whispering in a language none of them understood. The air around her seemed… stiller, somehow, as if the forest itself was leaning in to listen.
And when Caleb woke during the second watch, he could swear she was gone.
**
By morning, Mara was already awake, standing at the cliff edge with her satchel open. The mist was thinner here, revealing a sloping valley dotted with jagged stone pillars. They looked natural at first glance—until Caleb noticed the way they curved inwards, forming a loose ring.
"That's not a good place," Petra muttered beside him.
Mara didn't look away from it. "It's older than the forest."
Biran joined them, squinting. "Rocks are rocks."
"No," Mara said. "Not here. Here, rocks remember."
Caleb stepped closer. "You've been there?"
"Once," she replied. "The air is heavy. It presses on you. If you speak, you taste copper."
"Sounds inviting," Petra muttered.
"We're going around," Caleb said firmly, turning to the others. "The diary says to avoid structures that form complete circles."
Mara gave him a faint smile, as if she knew something he didn't. "Sometimes the shortest way is through the teeth, not around them."
Caleb frowned but didn't argue. He didn't like how her map and the diary seemed to disagree—and even less how calm she was talking about these places.
They skirted the valley, keeping to a ridge line. The forest here was twisted but sparse, allowing them to move faster. But by midday, water was low again. Alya checked the diary for new sources while Rahul and Petra searched the underbrush.
Nothing.
By late afternoon, lips were cracked, and voices were quieter.
They stopped to rest in the shade of a leaning tree. Caleb noticed Mara crouching by a patch of dirt, dragging her fingers through the soil. She pulled out a smooth, black pebble and rolled it in her palm.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Marker stone," she said. "You place it in water. If it floats, the water is clean."
"And if it sinks?" Hana asked.
Mara's eyes flicked toward her. "You won't need to worry about water anymore."
The stone floated in the first puddle they found. Relief was almost immediate, though Caleb still insisted on boiling it.
That night, the ridge dropped steeply into a small clearing—the only open space they'd seen all day. In the middle was something that made everyone stop.
It was a skeleton. Not human. Not any animal Caleb recognized. The ribs curved up and around like a cage that had burst outward from the inside. The skull was smooth and featureless, except for a single, deep groove running from crown to jaw.
Dev crouched beside it. "Think this is one of those… things?"
"No," Mara said. "This is what they used to be."
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
"What does that mean?" Biran asked.
She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped into the cage of bones and touched the inside of the skull groove, her fingers lingering there as if searching for something.
For a moment, the air hummed faintly, like distant machinery.
Then it stopped, and she walked back to camp without a word.
Caleb didn't sleep well. Every time he drifted off, he heard footsteps—soft, deliberate—circling the camp. Once, when he opened his eyes, he thought he saw Mara standing at the edge of the firelight, staring not at him but at Ivy.
The child didn't notice. She was asleep, curled against Hana's side.
But Mara's gaze lingered… far too long.