The forest led me farther than I expected.
Deeper than I remembered.
Each step felt like returning to something I had never known but always belonged to. The memory root here glowed pale white not silver, not blue, not red. Pure. Untouched. Sacred.
I didn't speak.
I just listened.
The trees creaked as if sighing.
The wind whispered through the branches, threading old songs between the leaves.
Then I saw her.
A woman.
Standing in the clearing.
Not a ghost.
Not a memory.
Flesh.
Hair like midnight water. Eyes like burning pages. She stood barefoot, her gown stitched with threads that shimmered like they were made from moonlight and ash.
I knew her name before I asked.
"Aelira."
She nodded.
"You crossed again," I said.
"No," she answered softly. "You arrived."
The sky above us flickered twilight bleeding into dusk and then back again.
"This is the Hollow's final threshold," she said. "Not a place. A moment."
I stepped closer. "What do you want from me?"
