The stars above shimmered like glass beads scattered across black silk. In this world, the sky never truly slept; it pulsed with pale violet hues that made Selene feel like she was constantly being watched. She stood at the edge of the Shimmering Forest, a place her map simply labeled "Unstable."
Behind her, Kael inspected the strange bark of a tree that looked like it had been carved from silver bone. He didn't speak much since they left Hollowmere—something in him had shifted. He moved slower, more deliberately, like someone who'd realized the ground beneath him might crack at any moment.
"You okay?" Selene asked, tightening the straps of her satchel.
He didn't turn around. "There's a hum in the trees. Can't you feel it?"
She paused and listened.
At first, it was just wind—the rustle of broad, translucent leaves brushing against one another. But then she heard it too: a faint, rhythmic thrum, like a heartbeat pulsing beneath the forest floor.
"What… is that?" she whispered.
Kael finally turned, his eyes hard. "Leylines. The Shimmering Forest is woven with them. It's alive with raw magic. And if we're not careful, it'll notice us."
Selene blinked. "What do you mean by 'it'?"
He stepped forward, lowering his voice. "This forest doesn't just host magic. It channels it. Some say the trees are sentient, or that the roots remember every footstep. Nothing here is forgotten."
A chill ran down her spine. Her mother used to speak of leyline forests back on Earth, but it had always sounded like fantasy—just another bedtime story to make the world seem a little more magical.
Now she was walking straight into one.
Their journey took them deeper beneath the canopy where sunlight struggled to filter through. The air was thick, heavy with moisture and the scent of burning herbs, though no fire could be seen. Trees arched over them in impossible ways—some curving like arches, others growing in spirals, dripping bioluminescent sap that whispered in strange tongues as it fell.
Kael warned her not to touch it.
They moved in silence for an hour until Selene saw something flicker in her peripheral vision—a figure, just at the edge of her sight, vanishing as soon as she turned her head.
"I saw someone," she said.
Kael didn't look back. "Don't stop. Don't acknowledge them. If you don't name them, they lose power."
"Name them?"
He stopped then and turned, his expression grave. "Some spirits thrive on attention. Here, names are as good as offerings."
The thought rattled her. She quickened her pace.
As dusk thickened, they came upon a clearing where the leylines converged. A massive stone stood in the center, cracked down the middle, glowing faintly blue. Around it, mushrooms the size of dinner plates glowed with a warm amber light. The air here hummed with ancient resonance.
"We'll rest here," Kael said. "The leylines are strongest around this altar. Nothing dares come close when the stone is active."
Selene didn't ask what "nothing" meant.
She rolled out a woven mat from her pack and settled down, her back resting against one of the smaller stone outcroppings. Kael knelt near the glowing stone, murmuring something in a tongue she didn't recognize. His fingers danced through the air like he was weaving threads only he could see.
"Is that… a spell?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Then, "A memory lock."
Selene blinked. "What for?"
"In case we die. This way, the forest remembers our intent. If someone worthy comes across this place, they'll see what we tried to do."
Her mouth went dry. "You think we'll die?"
He looked at her, his face unreadable. "Every step forward takes us deeper into something ancient. This realm isn't kind to trespassers."
She hugged her knees, suddenly feeling small.
As night took full hold, she lay staring up at the strange constellations above. None of them were familiar, but she began to notice patterns—three stars forming a crescent, another five making the shape of a bird mid-flight. For all its alien wonder, this world was beginning to write its symbols into her mind.
And then it happened.
A voice, soft and melodic, drifted on the wind.
Selene...
She sat up instantly. The voice was unmistakable—her mother's.
"Kael," she hissed.
But he was already awake, standing rigid with his sword half-drawn. "Don't answer it."
The wind stirred again.
Selene, come home... I'm waiting...
Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. It sounded so real. So close.
"I—how is this possible?"
Kael stepped between her and the trees. "The forest reads your memories, your longings. It knows what voice will shake you. That's how it hunts."
Selene clenched her fists, forcing herself not to move. But gods, it hurt.
It took everything she had to stay still while the voice called to her over and over, pleading, coaxing, promising warmth and safety.
When dawn finally crept over the horizon, the whispers stopped like someone had flipped a switch.
Selene's face was wet with silent tears. She hadn't even noticed them fall.
Kael sat beside her and handed her a small, leaf-wrapped bundle. "Dried qesh fruit. You need energy."
She took it wordlessly and chewed slowly, tasting something like cinnamon and citrus.
"I miss her," she said at last.
Kael stared ahead. "The forest uses your pain as bait. It's not your fault. But next time, it may not just be a voice."
Selene turned to him. "What do you mean?"
He looked her in the eye. "Next time, it may take her form."
She nearly gagged on the last bite.
That day, they traveled without speaking. The terrain shifted as they moved beyond the leyline altar. Trees turned black and twisted, the soil ashen and brittle. Birds here didn't sing; they clicked—sharp, hollow sounds like bones knocking together.
Eventually, the forest thinned, revealing a hill with a ring of standing stones atop it. At the center was a portal—an actual, swirling vortex of silver and green energy, pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
Kael's eyes widened. "We're further than I thought."
Selene stared at the vortex. "Is that another portal?"
He nodded. "But it's unmarked. Dangerous."
She stepped closer. "But it could lead home."
Kael's hand gripped her wrist. "Or to something far worse."
The wind changed. The trees shuddered. Behind them, something stirred.
Selene turned slowly—and froze.
A figure stood at the edge of the tree line. It looked like her mother, same face, same warm eyes—but its feet didn't touch the ground. Its eyes were too wide. Its mouth hung open slightly, like a doll left out in the rain.
It raised its hand.
"Selene," it said. "Don't let him stop you."
Kael pulled her behind him. "That's not your mother."
The figure tilted its head. "Aren't you tired of running? You could go home. Just walk through the gate."
Selene shook her head, trembling. "You're not real."
The thing smiled. "Real enough to hurt."
Kael didn't wait. He drew his blade and sliced the air in front of him, releasing a burst of white flame that incinerated the illusion.
The creature screamed—a sound like shattered glass scraping over metal—and vanished.
Selene collapsed to her knees.
Kael knelt beside her, breathing hard. "Never speak to one of those again. Never."
"I won't," she whispered, voice shaking. "I swear."
But as the wind died and the silence returned, she couldn't shake the feeling that part of her still wanted to believe the lie.
Because sometimes, lies wear the face of love.