The forest changed as evening fell.
The air grew dense, heavy with a pressure that had nothing to do with weather. Even the wind seemed unsure of itself, whispering through the leaves as if afraid to speak too loudly.
She felt it in her bones.
They were being watched.
Not by the hunters.
By something older.
Elion noticed her tension. "This place does not want us here," he said.
"No," she replied softly. "It is deciding."
They moved carefully, every step measured. The trees here were thicker, their trunks twisted and dark, roots clawing above the ground like fingers. The light faded quickly beneath the canopy, turning the world into shadow and breath.
Then the ground shifted.
Elion stumbled as the earth dipped sharply beneath his feet. She caught him just in time, pulling him back from a sudden drop hidden by leaves.
A ravine yawned where the path should have been.
"That was not there before," he said.
She stared at it, heart racing. "It moved."
The forest exhaled.
Branches groaned. Roots slid across the soil, rearranging themselves with slow, deliberate intent. Paths closed. Others opened. The land itself seemed to bend, guiding them away from something unseen.
"Do not fight it," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
They followed the new path.
Behind them, distant shouts echoed faintly. The hunters had reached the place where the trail should have been. Confusion rippled through the sound of their voices.
The forest did not allow them through.
As night deepened, the path led them into a natural clearing ringed by massive stones, each etched with age and weather. The air here felt different. Calm. Watchful.
Elion sank down onto one of the stones, exhausted.
She stood at the center of the clearing, heart pounding.
"This place remembers," she said. "It knows what I am."
"And it let us in," Elion replied. "That must mean something."
She was not convinced.
She closed her eyes and reached inward, careful not to touch the bound fire. She listened instead to the quieter part of herself. The part that still wanted to protect, not destroy.
The forest responded.
The stones warmed slightly. The ground steadied beneath their feet.
For the first time since the city burned, she felt something close to permission.
But peace never lasted.
A sharp crack echoed through the trees.
Steel on stone.
The hunters had found another way.
Elion pushed himself upright despite the pain. "Then the forest chose us," he said, jaw set. "Now we choose what we become in it."
She looked at him, fear and love warring inside her chest.
The forest had offered shelter.
The world was still coming.
And tonight, something would have to give.