The silvery glow of the moon drenched the forest clearing in an ethereal luminescence. A gentle breeze stirred the canopy above, casting fluttering shadows over the moss-covered stones where Lyra sat. Her knees were pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, while her mind wandered through the fragmented memories of the ceremony.
Since bonding with Elarion, the mysterious energy of the Heartwood Spirit had begun to influence her in unexpected ways. She could hear faint voices in the rustling leaves and feel emotions that weren't her own. It wasn't frightening—yet. But it was foreign, like sharing her thoughts with a second consciousness that watched, waited, and whispered.
"Still haven't slept?"
The voice broke the quiet, pulling her back to reality. Kael stood a few feet away, his tall frame outlined by moonlight. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, and in his hand was a small woven basket of wildberries.
Lyra managed a faint smile. "Couldn't. The forest is... loud tonight."
Kael walked over, sat beside her without a word, and offered the basket. She took a berry and chewed slowly, savoring the tartness.
"I used to think silence was the scariest thing," Kael said after a pause. "Turns out, it's when everything starts speaking that you realize how little you understand."
"You hear them too?" Lyra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kael hesitated. "Not like you. Not clearly. But I feel things. The animals act differently around you now. Even the trees seem... more alive when you're near."
Lyra turned to him, studying his face in the moonlight. "You think I've changed?"
"I know you have." He didn't say it with judgment—just observation. "You're not just Lyra anymore. You're something more. Something older."
She dropped her gaze. "I don't want to become something I don't understand."
"You don't have to understand it all at once. Just don't push it away." He nudged her shoulder lightly. "Besides, we all change. It's part of surviving."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Lyra felt the familiar tug in her chest—a pull toward the eastern edge of the forest.
"I have to go," she said suddenly.
"Now?" Kael looked up. "Where?"
"I don't know. But something's calling me. Something important."
Kael rose with her, already tightening his belt and checking the dagger at his side. "Then I'm coming with you."
Lyra wanted to argue, but she didn't. She was grateful. Whatever lay ahead, it felt better not to face it alone.
—
The path was barely a trail at all, winding through twisted roots and thickets of fern that reached their waists. Nightbirds crooned warnings as they passed, and a low mist clung to the forest floor. The pull in Lyra's chest grew stronger with each step, a warmth like fireflies buzzing beneath her ribs.
Suddenly, she stopped. In a clearing up ahead, a ring of standing stones emerged from the earth like broken teeth. Moonlight bathed the ancient circle, and in the center stood a lone figure cloaked in blue.
Kael placed a hand on his sword hilt. "Friend or foe?"
"Neither," the figure said, his voice calm and melodic. "Only a messenger."
Lyra stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The man pulled back his hood, revealing a face that was both young and ageless—pale skin like moonstone, eyes like mirrored water. "I am called Thalor. A Seer of the Veiled Path."
Kael moved closer to Lyra. "Never heard of them."
"You wouldn't have," Thalor replied. "We do not speak to those unmarked by destiny. But you, Lyra—Child of the Heartwood—you've awakened something ancient. And others have noticed."
"Others?" Lyra asked, her voice tight.
"There are forces bound to the old oaths of this realm," Thalor said. "Some slumber still. Others stir, drawn by the light you've rekindled. But not all who come seek harmony."
Thalor reached into his cloak and withdrew a small crystal orb glowing with soft golden light. He held it out.
"This is a fragment of memory, carved from the Well of Elarion before it fell silent. It holds knowledge of what came before—the fall, the fracture, and the first pact. You must guard it. Learn from it."
Lyra took the orb. The moment her fingers touched it, a pulse of warmth shot through her arm, and visions flooded her mind—brief, blurry flashes of battles waged in twilight, cloaked figures singing over stone altars, a tree of light burning in a sea of darkness.
Then it stopped.
"What was that?" she breathed.
"A beginning," Thalor said. "The veil between realms grows thinner. The more you embrace the bond, the more clearly you'll see."
Kael stepped forward. "Why her? Why now?"
"Because the realm is shifting," Thalor replied. "And only those bound to the old roots can anchor what's to come."
Lyra opened her mouth to ask more, but Thalor was already fading. His body dissolved into mist, leaving only the faint shimmer of magic in the air.
—
As they made their way back through the woods, the orb clutched tightly in Lyra's hand, a new sense of urgency settled in her bones.
She now held a piece of the past.
But something darker lurked in the shadows of the future.
And it was coming.