Ember woke slowly, the kind of waking that felt less like a Monday morning and more like easing out of a deep, perfect oblivion. For a moment, she didn't move or even breathe.
The blankets beneath her were impossibly soft, clean, and right—like the bed had been custom-made for the sole purpose of profound rest.
Her eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling wasn't plaster or concrete. It was carved from pale wood with faint green swirls, something that felt alive.
That's when last night slammed back in.
The sick forest.
Ashthorne.
The glowing leaves.
And the house. The home he'd guided her to because her legs had simply quit.
Ember sat up with a small gasp.
She had actually slept. Deeply. Comfortably. In a world she shouldn't be in.
The cold cloth of realization settled. She should be panicking. She should be crying. She should be curled up whispering, I want to go home.
But instead, her mind was unnervingly clear.
Liam or Mara or her parents didn't even cross her mind until her feet swung out of the bed. That stunned her. Her chest gave a small, hollow throb at their memory—but it was faint, distant, like recalling pain from a bad dream.
How did I sleep this well?
The floor beneath her feet felt warm, as if it had soaked up sunlight. She rubbed her arms. Her body didn't ache the way it usually did after crying. Even the headache from the fall and the alcohol was gone.
Whatever this place is, it helps.
She pushed herself to her feet.
The room was small, spotless. A window carved into the wall glowed with soft light—gentler, filtered through pearl-colored mist.
A soft, woven robe hung over a carved chair. Ashthorne's mother must have placed it there.
Ember hesitated, then slowly slipped it on. The robe was light, almost weightless, and smelled faintly of something warm and herbal. She pulled it around herself and stepped toward the door.
A staircase spiraled down, all wood—ordered, simple and beautiful.
She went down the steps one at a time.
Halfway down, she heard soft movement below.
Okay. Don't be weird Ember. Be polite. You're the other people's daughter. Parents love you.
She stepped into the main room.
Elara looked up instantly, sensing her. Her eyes were bright, soft silver-brown.
"Good morning, Ember," Elara said, her voice gentle, warm. "You slept well, I hope."
"I did," Ember answered. "Better than I should have, probably."
A soft smile curved Elara's lips. "I'm glad. My name is Elara. You can call me Elara"
"Nice to meet you Elara." Ember said stepping inside. The air smelled like fresh bread and something floral. Sliced fruit, steaming tea, and fresh bread sat on the wooden tray.
"Please," Elara invited, gesturing. "Sit. Eat. You'll feel better."
Ember hesitated, wondering about Ashthorne.
Elara noticed. "My son rose before dawn. He went back into the forest. Last night's disturbance really unsettled him."
The forest reminder tensed Ember's shoulders.
"That forest is… Too uncanny, maybe."
Elara laughed softly. "The forest IS alive. It always breathes. But this isn't how it should be. Something is sick beneath its roots."
Ember sat down slowly. "Ashthorne said that."
"Yes," Elara said. "We've felt it for many many seasons. But last night was different. A gate opening without the Queen's command?" She shook her head. "That hasn't happened in centuries."
Ember swallowed.
So, it wasn't an accident. She wasn't supposed to be here.
Elara poured tea.
"I didn't thank you," Ember said quietly. "For letting me sleep here."
"I wouldn't leave a lost child in a sick forest," Elara replied. "Even if she wasn't meant to be here."
The honesty was honestly appreciated.
Elara placed the cup in front of her. "Drink. It will help calm your spirit."
Ember took a sip.
Warmth spread instantly across her chest, soothing.
She ate to her fill.
---
Elara studied her again, softer now.
"You are an anomaly, Ember."
Ember stiffened. "Is that… bad?"
"No," Elara said, "but it shouldn't happen twice. Your arrival is a surprise—a rare one. And surprises like this...in times like these, often carry consequences. We hope yours will be a pleasant one… but we do not wish for more."
The explanation hit Ember hard. They were wary. Guarded. Watching.
"I didn't mean to come here," Ember whispered.
"I know."
"And I don't think I belong here."
Elara tilted her head. "Perhaps not. And yet, here you are. And forest let you leave.
That alone is unusual."
Ember couldn't argue.
Elara watched her with a gentleness that made Ember's throat tighten.
"You don't need to fear me," Elara said. "Or my son. We won't harm you."
"I didn't think you would," Ember admitted. "Ashthorne may look like he wants to stab the air around me, but he did help me and I know how to be grateful."
Elara laughed—a soft, surprised sound.
"My son appears sharper than he is," she said. "But his instincts are truly accurate. If he chose not to leave you, then something in you felt important."
Ember looked down at her tea. "I don't feel important."
"Ah.....ah," Elara tutted softly. "You're here now. Everything is different. Even you."
Ember's breath caught.
"What does that mean?"
Elara sat across from Ember.
"You said Ashthorne looks young, yes?"
Ember nodded.
"He is nearly five hundred."
Ember choked. "What?! He looks my age!"
Elara smiled lightly. "Our age doesn't show the way human age does. We live long. But youth is still youth."
Ember stared. "So you're…?"
"A thousand and fifty years," Elara said calmly.
Ember gripped her chair. "Oh my god."
Elara chuckled. "I know. It sounds dramatic in your tongue."
"So—Ashthorne is basically a young adult."
"Yes." Elara smiled. "He has much to learn. And much to unlearn."
Ember hesitated. "And he lives with you?"
"For now. Until he chooses to rejoin the Queen's guard. Or until the forest chooses a new title for him."
"A title?"
Elara nodded. "Our roles aren't simply given. We become what yggdrasil
wants. Yggdrasil decides what each of us is meant to be."
Ember let that sink in.
After a moment, she whispered, "So what does the Yggdrasil think I'm meant to be?"
Elara's eyes softened. "That, child, we don't yet know. Yggdrasil opened for you. It is old and wise. It does nothing without reason."
A quiet settled between them.
Ember looked around the room—the carved walls, the soft light, the faint hum she hadn't noticed, like the whole house was breathing.
Something inside her unwound slightly.
"I really don't know what I'm supposed to do," Ember admitted.
"You aren't supposed to know now silly." Elara rose. "For now, you must eat. Rest a little longer. When Ashthorne returns, you will speak with him."
Ember nodded slowly.
"And Ember," Elara added softly, "don't fear your presence here. You aren't here by mistake."
Ember looked up. "But you said I wasn't supposed to be here."
"That is different." Elara smiled, warm and knowing. "You weren't meant to be here—but you are here now. Even if you don't yet understand why."
A shiver ran down Ember's spine.
Here.
She didn't know what that meant.
But she would soon.