The air shimmered with heat, despite the rain having ended hours ago. A strange warmth rippled through the glade—pulsing from the east like waves from a distant shore.
Maerel felt it first, standing on the watchpoint at the canopy's edge.
She gripped the wooden railing, voice calm but urgent.
Maerel: "She's here."
Caelum stepped beside her, eyes narrowing toward the red haze on the horizon.
Caelum: "Emberwood."
Elira joined them moments later, her hand instinctively reaching for the pendant around her neck—the crystal given to her by the Hollow Tree when the curse was broken.
Elira: "You think it's her?"
Maerel: "Only one person walks with fire that doesn't burn."
The air suddenly cracked like dry branches, and in the distance, the leaves turned orange, not from sunlight—but flame.
Then, from the smoke, she stepped forth.
A young woman, barefoot, wrapped in ash-colored robes with glowing embers stitched along the seams. Her hair was a crown of coiled flame. Her eyes, molten gold.
She approached the Hollow Court with calm, measured steps.
The guards lowered their weapons as Elira held up a hand.
Elira: "Let her pass."
The woman stopped before them, smoke curling gently from her shoulders.
Elira: "Name yourself."
Stranger: "I am Lysara, Warden of Flame, Daughter of Emberwood."
Maerel: "We've heard stories. No one believed they were true."
Lysara's lips curled faintly into a smile.
Lysara: "Most stories aren't. Until they walk into your forest."
Elira stepped forward, eyes locked with hers.
Elira: "Why are you here?"
Lysara: "I felt the call. The forest's cry. The old seal broke, and the song returned. The world will soon turn to you, Elira of the Grove. Not in wonder—but in fear. I came to stand between you and that fear."
Caelum: "We didn't ask for war."
Lysara: "War rarely waits for permission."
There was silence between them as the wind shifted. The leaves overhead danced in gold and crimson.
Elira: "You would fight with us? Even if you don't know what's coming?"
Lysara: "I don't need to know the storm to know which side I stand on."
Elira nodded slowly, extending her hand.
Elira: "Then welcome to the Hollow Court."
Lysara took it, her grip firm, her touch warm—but not burning.
That night, they sat around the map table in the war room.
Maerel lit the crystal-lanterns, casting a gentle glow across the aged parchment.
Maerel: "Reports from the east confirm movement. Lady Nyra's fleet has made landfall."
Caelum: "How many?"
Maerel: "Hard to say. Her ships use veil cloaks. But birds have vanished along the coastline. Entire groves are falling quiet."
Lysara leaned over the table, eyes studying the eastern valleys.
Lysara: "If she reaches the heart of the forest—"
Elira: "She won't."
Lysara: "Then we must meet her before she does."
Caelum placed a carved token on the map—a sigil representing the Echo Marshes.
Caelum: "This pass here. It's narrow. Easy to defend."
Maerel: "It's also sacred. Unstable."
Elira: "Still, it's the only place she must pass through if she takes the direct route."
Lysara straightened.
Lysara: "Then I'll go. I know fire, but I also know restraint. I can hold the line."
Caelum: "Not alone."
Elira: "You won't go alone."
Maerel tapped another location on the map.
Maerel: "A stormcaller lives in the cliffs just west of the marsh. Old, reclusive. But she owes the forest a debt."
Elira looked between them all, then nodded.
Elira: "Send word. Call her."
Outside the war room, Elira walked with Caelum in silence for a while. The air smelled of moss and burning wood.
Finally, she spoke.
Elira: "Do you trust her?"
Caelum: "Lysara?"
Elira: "Yes."
He stopped beneath an old willow, its branches glowing faintly in the dark.
Caelum: "She came when we didn't ask. She offers strength, not demands. That's more than I expected from the world."
Elira: "But she's powerful. She burns like a star."
Caelum: "So do you."
Elira laughed softly.
Elira: "Not quite."
He stepped closer, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
Caelum: "You shine in ways she doesn't. Fire and forest don't cancel each other. They protect what matters."
She looked into his eyes, feeling the depth in his words. Not just admiration—faith.
Elira: "Then let's prepare. Because fire may come to defend us... but shadows always follow flames."
Meanwhile, far away, atop a cliff soaked in silver rain, the stormcaller stood alone.
She watched as a bird cloaked in firelight landed on her windowsill—a message bound in emberthread.
She read the note once. Then again.
Her lips curled into a soft smirk.
Stormcaller: "So... the forest breathes again."
She raised a hand, and the sky answered with a roll of thunder.