Dhaara stepped closer to Foxen, who was holding Bleca carefully in his arms. Without warning, she wrapped both of them in an embrace.
Foxen felt the chill of her body seep through him. It wasn't unpleasant—just unfamiliar. His eyes had been closed, but the sensation made them snap open.
Dhaara slowly pulled away.
Foxen gently placed Bleca back on the ground, but the confusion on his face lingered.
"You're wondering how I can hold things with this body of mine, aren't you?" Dhaara asked.
Foxen shook his head slightly.
"Actually, I figured that out when you came out of the river," he said, pointing toward the flowing water nearby.
Dhaara raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"You have a thin, transparent shield around your liquid body," Foxen continued. "It keeps your form intact while letting you interact with physical objects. Am I right?"
She smiled.
"Yes. You're absolutely right."
"Then what's with the confused look?" she asked.
Foxen glanced down, gently holding Bleca's index finger.
"It's about her," he said. "How is Bleca your daughter?"
Bleca suddenly tugged his finger and motioned for him to bend down. Foxen lowered himself to her eye level.
She poked his nose.
"Ow—" Foxen flinched.
Dhaara laughed softly.
"Well, Bleca isn't my daughter by birth. She was left here as an infant. This place accepted her… so I raised her."
Foxen rubbed his nose thoughtfully.
"Oh. That explains it." He smiled and lightly pinched Bleca's cheek. "You mischievous girl."
Bleca squeaked, slapped his hand away, and ran behind Dhaara. She peeked out, stuck her tongue at him, and teased,
"Bad person! Bad person!"
"Oh, so I'm bad now?" Foxen replied mockingly. "Right after you said you liked me?"
Dhaara chuckled.
"She's still a child, you know."
Foxen nodded, then his tone shifted.
"So… can I ask my questions now?"
Dhaara looked at the flower in her hand, then pointed toward a path winding deeper into the forest.
"Let's go somewhere nicer. We'll talk there."
Bleca immediately ran ahead, laughing.
"Come fast! Why are you two so slow?"
Though she disappeared from sight, her voice echoed faintly through the trees.
Foxen laughed.
"She's calling us slow? Guess she doesn't know how fast I am."
Dhaara smiled faintly as she walked beside him.
"I assumed you'd be fast. You are one of the hosts, after all."
Foxen's expression dimmed.
Dhaara noticed instantly.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have said that."
"It's fine," Foxen replied, though his voice lacked conviction. "It's the truth."
Trying to lighten the mood, Dhaara added,
"Don't show your speed yet. Walk with me—at least until we reach our daughter."
"Our daughter?" Foxen stopped.
Dhaara laughed.
"I meant the daughter of me and this place."
"Oh," Foxen exhaled, smiling faintly. "You should be clearer. I almost thought you meant something else."
"And what if I did?" she asked teasingly.
Foxen blinked.
"Huh?"
She didn't answer.
They walked in silence until they reached the clearing.
Foxen stopped dead.
Before him stood a massive stone, nearly twenty feet tall. A single ancient tree grew atop it, its roots cascading down like living bridges—wide enough to climb. A narrow stream branched from the river beside it, and woven into the roots was a small house-like structure, alive and organic.
Foxen felt a strange familiarity tighten his chest.
I've seen this before…
Images flashed in his mind.
The Orb.
Paintings.
Achinos.
Why does Achinos—
He cut the thought short.
Dhaara noticed his sudden pause.
"Achinos… what?" she asked.
"It's nothing," Foxen said quickly, looking away.
"No," she pressed. "What were you about to say?"
Foxen shook his head.
"This feels like…" he murmured.
"Home?" Dhaara offered.
"No," Foxen said slowly. "More like a still painting."
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh—you like paintings too?"
Foxen nodded.
Bleca suddenly burst out of the root-house and ran toward them.
"You finally made it!"
She grabbed Foxen's hand and pulled him along a narrow path.
"This is my favorite place!"
Dhaara followed behind them.
"This is where Bleca was accepted by the planet."
Foxen stared in awe.
"So… where can we talk?" he asked. "I won't have much time later."
Bleca stopped abruptly and punched his knee.
"Ow—!"
"Aren't you happy here?" she snapped. "I showed you my favorite place and you didn't even react!"
Foxen crouched to her level.
"It's beautiful, Bleca. So beautiful that I'd love to stay here forever."
"Then why don't you?" she asked.
Foxen went silent.
Dhaara understood.
"Why don't you show him the inside, Bleca? We'll talk there."
Bleca beamed.
"Come! Come!"
Inside, the house was simple—one cotton bed, one lamp glowing softly.
Bleca made Foxen sit.
"It's comfy, right? I love sleeping here."
"It really is," Foxen smiled. "I'd love to sleep here too."
He gently patted her head.
"Can your mom and I talk for a minute?"
Bleca looked to Dhaara. Dhaara blinked once.
Bleca left.
Dhaara stood near the lamp. Foxen sat on the bed.
"So," Foxen said quietly, "shall we begin?"
"Yes," Dhaara replied. "But answer me this first."
"Go ahead."
"If I tell you the truth," she asked, stepping closer, "will you abandon the tentacles and stay here with us?"
Foxen met her gaze.
"That depends on the truth you tell me."
Dhaara nodded.
"Fair."
She inhaled slowly.
"Let's begin."
End of chapter 19.