The girl sat now with her back propped gently against the tree trunk, eyes half-lidded with fatigue. Her hair—black as night—spilled over Kael’s cloak, still wrapped around her frame. The fire cast soft light across her skin, catching the subtle sheen of warmth rising back into her cheeks. She hadn’t spoken again, but her gaze lingered on Lirael and Ezryn with a strange… ache. Longing? Recognition? It was hard to tell.
Kael noticed it but said nothing.
Lirael had tucked a spare cloth behind her neck, creating a makeshift pillow. Ezryn had summoned another glowing orb, setting it to float just above them, casting steady light. The forest, usually alive with whispering winds and rustling leaves, felt utterly still.
“Alright,” Ezryn said at last, arms folded, voice low. “Let’s talk.”
Kael looked up from tending the fire. “About?”
“The girl.” Ezryn nodded toward her. “You said she came from the rock. Alone. Naked. Surrounded by god-knows-what kind of sealing spell?”
Kael’s brows furrowed. “Yeah. That’s what happened.”
“And you didn’t think that might be… suspicious?” Ezryn’s tone sharpened. “Things buried for a hundred years in cursed forests aren’t usually harmless.”
“She was asleep.” Kael’s jaw clenched. “She wasn’t doing anything.”
Lirael’s voice came quietly. “Still… it’s strange. No memory. No name. Not even fear. Just… confusion.”
Kael huffed, turning his gaze back toward the flames. “You think she’s a monster in disguise?”
Ezryn didn’t answer immediately. “I think we’re in a forest known for playing tricks with memory, time, and illusions. We don’t know what rules this realm operates on. She could be a vessel. An echo. Or worse, a lure.”
Kael stood up suddenly. “She’s not.”
Ezryn arched an eyebrow. “You sound certain.”
“I am certain,” Kael growled. “She was cold, alone, and barely breathing. Whatever she is—or was—right now she’s just a girl who needs help. We can’t leave her here to die.”
“Since when do you care about strangers?” Lirael asked softly, not unkindly.
Kael turned his head sharply. “Since I had to dig one out of a stone cocoon and she looked at me like I was the first person she ever saw.”
Lirael blinked.
Ezryn exhaled, pushing his glasses up. “You’re sure she wasn’t… glowing?”
Kael hesitated, eyes flicking toward the girl.
Just for a moment—when her eyes opened—they had shimmered gold. Her hair, too, had flashed like starlight. He’d thought he imagined it. But now…
He didn’t speak of it.
“Look,” he muttered, “we can figure it out later. Let’s not make decisions while she’s half-conscious and freezing.”
Lirael nodded slowly. “Fine. But she can’t stay nameless.”
Ezryn tilted his head. “What should we call her? ‘Girl in Kael’s cloak’?”
Lirael turned toward the girl. “She’s waking up.”
The girl—still wrapped in Kael’s cloak—was no longer dozing. Her eyes, bright green now, blinked slowly as if struggling to hold focus. Her gaze flitted between them, unreadable, quiet.
Kael crouched beside her. “Hey… do you remember your name?”
She said nothing.
Ezryn glanced between them. “If not, we should call you something. Just for now.”
Lirael offered a gentle smile. “How about Liz? It’s simple. Gentle.”
The girl blinked again, lips parting slightly. A soft murmur escaped:
“…Liz.”
Then again, slightly firmer.
“…Liza…”
Her gaze grew distant. Her brows knit.
“…Li…la…”
The girl’s lips parted—but no words came. Her eyes shimmered, not with tears but with a flicker of memory that scratched from deep within.
Then her voice—barely above a whisper.
“…Kaeyla…”
Lirael’s breath caught in her throat.
“You—” She stepped forward, voice shaky. “Do you know my grandmother? Kaeyla of Solhara? Did… did she send you here? To find me?”
The girl turned to her slowly, as if her very bones resisted the movement. Her brows furrowed in confusion. There was no recognition in her eyes—only a deep, aching emptiness, like a name carved into a stone that time had eroded.
“…I don’t know,” she murmured.
Then her voice shrank, and her gaze drifted to the flames. “I don’t know anything.”
Silence settled again, heavier now—not from fear, but from sorrow.
Ezryn sighed and stirred the embers with a twig. “Then it’s settled. Liz. For now.”
Kael looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He just nodded, resting his chin on his knuckles, eyes drifting once more to the quiet girl wrapped in his cloak.
Lirael turned toward the girl. “She’s waking up.”
The girl—still wrapped in Kael’s cloak—was no longer dozing. Her eyes, bright green now, blinked slowly as if struggling to hold focus. Her gaze flitted between them, unreadable, quiet.
Kael crouched beside her. “Hey… do you remember your name?”
She said nothing.
Ezryn glanced between them. “If not, we should call you something. Just for now.”
Lirael offered a gentle smile. “How about Liz? It’s simple. Gentle.”
The girl blinked again, lips parting slightly. A soft murmur escaped:
“…Liz.”
Then again, slightly firmer.
“…Liza…”
Her gaze grew distant. Her brows knit.
“…Li…la…”
The girl’s lips parted—but no words came. Her eyes shimmered, not with tears but with a flicker of memory that scratched from deep within.
Then her voice—barely above a whisper.
“…Kaeyla…”
Lirael’s breath caught in her throat.
“You—” She stepped forward, voice shaky. “Do you know my grandmother? Kaeyla of Solhara? Did… did she send you here? To find me?”
The girl turned to her slowly, as if her very bones resisted the movement. Her brows furrowed in confusion. There was no recognition in her eyes—only a deep, aching emptiness, like a name carved into a stone that time had eroded.
“…I don’t know,” she murmured.
Then her voice shrank, and her gaze drifted to the flames. “I don’t know anything.”
Silence settled again, heavier now—not from fear, but from sorrow.
Ezryn sighed and stirred the embers with a twig. “Then it’s settled. Liz. For now.”
Kael looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He just nodded, resting his chin on his knuckles, eyes drifting once more to the quiet girl wrapped in his cloak.
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