Before they knew it, the day faded into evening, and Kael finally returned.
He didn’t say much—just walked in with the same worn scowl, a few twigs in his hair, and the scent of leaves clinging to his cloak. But something in his eyes softened when he saw the others gathered around the hearth. As though despite himself, he was glad to see them.
The four of them sat down for dinner with the old lady, the way they had the night before. Simple food, warm light, the creak of old wood beneath their chairs. It was beginning to feel strangely… normal.
That night, they all gathered in the room Kael and Ezryn shared. The air was dim and still, lit only by a flickering lamp and the silver-blue wash of moonlight filtering through the open window. Lirael sat cross-legged at the foot of one bed, her brows furrowed.
“I don’t understand,” she said at last. “I tried to stretch my magic earlier—sent it as far as I could. But no matter how far I reached, the forest just… curved. It led me in circles. The energy pulled back around, like the place folded in on itself.”
Kael leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Same with me. I walked straight out in one direction, kept going for hours. Thought I could find a way past the ridge.” He shook his head. “Didn’t matter. I ended up right back at the house, like I’d never left.”
He let out a low breath, glancing toward the window where the trees rustled in the breeze. “It’s like this place won’t let us leave.”
Ezryn was quiet, his gaze on the lantern flame, while Liz sat at the edge of the bed, arms hugging her knees. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—just… thoughtful. The kind of silence that meant questions were rising, but no one yet had the shape of an answer.
The quiet hung in the room, broken only by the soft crackle of the lamp flame.
Then Liz spoke—blurting it out before she lost the nerve.
“Maybe Martha’s right,” she said. “The forest doesn’t let us leave… unless we finish what we’re meant to do here.”
Ezryn looked up, eyes narrowing in thought. “Which means?”
Liz hugged her knees tighter. “In my case… it probably has something to do with my memories.”
There was a beat. Then Lirael leaned forward, her bright red hair catching the light.
“Does that mean we all have something to finish?”
Ezryn tilted his head slightly. “Yes. Or no. Maybe it’s not about each of us individually… maybe our roles are tied to Liz. Helping her remember. Guiding her toward whatever she was meant to become.”
Kael shifted, the corner of his jaw twitching. “The only person who has the answer,” he said flatly, “is Martha.”
The room fell into a low hum again, as if the forest itself had been listening.
Liz exhaled softly. “Martha… she seems to know about me.”
The other three turned to her at once, their eyes expectant—waiting, but not pushing.
She continued, slower this time, as if weighing her own words. “I found out I have an Earth element today. The way it happened—it didn’t feel like an accident. Martha… she led me to it. Not directly, but it was like she wanted me to find it.”
Ezryn leaned back, thoughtful. Lirael tilted her head, studying Liz. Kael didn’t move.
“There’s so much she’s not telling me,” Liz said at last. “I think… I might have to figure it out on my own.”
Kael’s voice came, quiet and steady. “How are you feeling now?”
Liz looked down at her palms—soft, clean, no dirt, no scratches from magic. “The same, I guess. I don’t remember anything, not really. But when I use magic… it’s like my body does. Like muscle memory. It responds as if it’s done this a thousand times before.”
She gave a small laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So far, I’ve got instincts… but not the story behind them.”
The discussion faded into the quiet of night, and morning returned with familiar rhythm.
As usual, Martha’s voice stirred them awake, pushing them out the door with simple instructions and an amused wave. But today, Liz didn’t linger behind in the house. She followed the others outside, a quiet determination in her step.
They split into two pairs once more—Ezryn and Lirael heading into the woods to forage, while Kael and Liz took the forest path toward the trees. This time, however, Kael wasn’t carrying his usual bundle of tools.
He was humming.
A soft, carefree tune floated from his lips, matching the light rustle of leaves above. Liz glanced at him, one brow raised. “You’re in a great mood today.”
Kael grinned. “Well, having company’s better than walking alone on these long roads.” He stretched his arms behind his head, then added, “Besides, I gathered enough wood yesterday to last us a month. Let’s just take a walk today.”
Liz nodded, though her smile was distant—preoccupied. She seemed caught between thoughts, her mind elsewhere.
Kael caught the shift in her gaze. Without warning, he reached out and took her hand—warm, firm, certain. “Come on.”
Liz blinked, surprised, but followed as he led her off the beaten path. Through weaving roots and soft moss, under arches of branches that filtered the morning sun into gold.
Then, the trees opened.
Before them lay a quiet, crystalline pond, surrounded by stones smoothed by time and silver-green reeds that swayed gently in the breeze. Sunlight danced across the water, scattering glints of light like glass shards in motion.
Liz’s eyes lit up—subtle at first, then brighter, the way a candle catches wind.
Kael watched her silently, a smile tugging at his lips. “How’s that?” he said softly. “Let’s take some time here. No chores. No forest maze. Just… this.”
Liz didn’t say much at first.
She stood still, her gaze locked on the pond’s surface. It was breathtaking—an impossibly clear shade of blue that mirrored the sky above. Yet something tugged at her attention. For all its beauty, the place felt… still. Too still. No fish darting beneath the water, no frogs croaking, no dragonflies skimming across the surface. Not even the soft hum of birdsong in the air.
Just silence. Beautiful, but hollow. Like a painting sealed in glass.
Then, Kael gently tugged her by the hand, guiding her down to the smooth edge of the pond. “Come,” he said with a smile, “might as well enjoy it properly.” He rolled up his pants and dipped his feet into the water, nodding for her to do the same.
The water was cold at first touch, startling but refreshing. Liz hesitated, then slowly sat beside him, letting her legs slide in. A few moments passed. The breeze was soft. The stillness began to feel less heavy, less watchful.
She sighed—just a little—and leaned back on her palms.
That’s when she saw it.
A ripple broke the surface.
Her breath caught. Another flicker beneath the water—quick, silvery. Then another. Fish. Small ones, gliding in schools like living threads. Liz leaned forward, eyes wide, scanning the water. “Kael…”
He followed her gaze. More movement stirred under the surface. Tiny plants swayed below, and now—yes—there was a faint croak in the distance. A bird’s wing caught the light in a quick flash. The forest beyond the pond looked… different. Alive.
Without a word, the two of them waded in deeper, then dove.
Beneath the surface, the pond was a world of its own—alive with plants, fish, even swirls of silt rising as they swam. They surfaced, gasping lightly, hair slicked back, eyes scanning their surroundings with disbelief.
The air smelled different.
There was wind, soft and warm on their wet skin.
There was birdsong—light, scattered, distant.
And the trees—they weren’t the same. There were markings on the trunks, bite marks, the rustle of movement in the underbrush. Signs of wildlife.
Kael turned to Liz, breathless—not just from the swim, but the possibility forming in his chest. “Do you think we’re… still in the forest?”
Liz didn’t answer. She was staring at the trees like they were strangers. Her brow creased, lips parted.
Kael stood up and offered her a hand. “Come on. Let’s look around a bit more. Just to be sure.”
A part of him dared to believe. Maybe—just maybe—they had stepped out of the spell.
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