Willow emerged from the heart of Aethyria’s Cradle.

As he stepped out, the light shining on the willow’s bark faded, pulling back like a breath held in. Where the god appeared, soft moss grew underfoot, and the roots shifted just enough for him to walk through. It had been centuries since he had taken a form visible to a human—perhaps it had never happened before. The forest seemed to lean in, filled with a mix of curiosity and respect, leaves vibrating in quiet wonder.

He was tall and slender, made of soft twilight and bark-like light, with hair a light green like fresh sprouts after rain. His eyes showed the calm patience of trees that have seen many generations come and go. Each step away from the cradle felt like it pulled on something ancient within him, reminding him of his connection and his purpose. The further he traveled, the more the weight of the forest pressed down on him.

Thane halted.

Not because he heard footsteps—Willow made none—but because the night air felt different. The atmosphere grew thicker, filled with the sweet smell of sap and moist earth. The crickets stopped chirping. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if it did not want to disturb the moment.

Thane turned slowly.

That’s when they noticed each other.

The human’s hand instinctively reached for the small knife at his belt, not to threaten but out of habit. His eyes widened—not in fear but in sudden recognition, as if a long-lost dream had come to life before him.

“You’re real,” Thane whispered.

Willow flinched at the sound of a human speaking directly to him. It felt warmer than he had anticipated, roughened by labor and quiet nights. The god parted his lips, but at first, no words came. Speaking to roots and rivers was simple, but it felt fragile when directed at a human.

“I…” Willow swallowed, feeling the forest stir nervously around him. “You shouldn’t be here. ”

Thane’s grip on his knife relaxed. He let it drop back against his side. “You shouldn’t be here either,” he replied gently, then shook his head with a small, amazed smile. “But here we are. ”

Moonlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating Thane’s dark hair and highlighting the tired lines under his eyes. Willow noticed things he had never paid attention to before—the steady rise and fall of a chest as it breathed, the slight shake in hands marked by hard work, and how a human carried an inner weight like an unseen injury.

“You come to this forest often,” Willow observed, surprised by how steady his voice was.

Thane nodded. “It’s the only place that doesn’t ask too much. ” His gaze drifted to the tall willow behind him, its runes glowing faintly now. “I’ve always felt… observed. Not in a threatening way. Just…” He paused. “Not alone. ”

A shiver ran through Willow that had nothing to do with being cold.

“I watch to keep you safe,” he said, though even as he spoke, he realized his words were unfinished.

A quiet settled between them—not uncomfortable, but filled with unspoken thoughts. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. The forest breathed out a sigh.

"I won't tell anyone," Thane finally said. "About you. About this. "

"I understand," Willow answered, though he was puzzled about how Thane knew. Maybe the trees had already made their choice.

Thane moved a bit closer, careful, as if he were getting near a frightened creature. The woods became quiet. Willow felt the urge to step back, to blend in with the bark and light. But he remained where he was.

When Thane paused a short distance away, near enough for Willow to sense his warmth, something old and forbidden stirred deep within the god’s being.

This was a moment the forest would not forget.

Somewhere, out of sight and without sound, other gods awakened—earth, ocean, and fire—held by the same rule that Willow had just broken, though he didn’t fully grasp how.

And under the stars, with leaves, roots, and murmured prayers as witnesses, a god and a human stood too close, already trapped in a tale that could only lead to sorrow.