Nessa dreamed again that night.
But this time, she wasn't standing at the edge of the forest.
She was inside it.
The trees loomed high and silent, their branches tangled like fingers holding back something unseen. The air was thick with memory—not hers, not entirely—but something older, something carried in silence.
The boy stood before her again.
Only now, he wasn't alone.
Behind him, others gathered—figures blurred at the edges, their faces shifting like smoke caught in wind. Some looked young. Others old. All of them watched Nessa with quiet intensity.
And then, for the first time—
He spoke.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
But in feeling .
A pulse through her chest.
A whisper beneath her skin.
You can hear us. That means you remember.
Nessa woke with a gasp.
Her hands trembled.
She reached for her sketchpad without hesitation.
Drew fast.
A boy standing beneath the birch tree.
His hand outstretched.
Behind him, a line of figures waiting in silence.
At the bottom of the page, the spiral pulsed faintly—as if drawn in something other than charcoal.
As if it were still forming.
Still waking.
Luka found her already dressed and pacing by the time morning came.
He didn't ask questions.
Just took one look at the drawing and signed:
You saw more of them.
She nodded once.
Then pointed toward the forest.
Toward the birch tree.
Then signed:
They're waiting for us.
Eli joined them a short while later, his expression unreadable as he studied the latest sketch.
He ran a hand over the spiral, fingers lingering just a moment too long.
Then he signed:
This isn't just an echo anymore. It's something else. Something gathering.
Luka frowned. "What do you mean?"
Eli hesitated—then flipped open Mira's old sketchpad and turned to a familiar page.
One she had drawn years ago.
A door hidden beneath roots.
Marked by the same spiral.
Then he looked at Nessa.
Signed slowly:
Mira opened the door once. But she never finished listening.
He glanced at Luka.
Then added:
Neither did you.
Luka swallowed hard. "So what happens now?"
Eli looked between them both.
Then signed:
Now, we go back inside.
They returned to the birch tree before noon.
The wind had shifted overnight, carrying something unfamiliar—something that felt like expectation .
Nessa stepped forward first.
She knelt beside the roots where the door should have been.
Closed her eyes.
Placed both hands flat against the earth.
And waited.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A hum.
Low.
Faint.
Like the echo of a heartbeat buried deep beneath the ground.
Luka stiffened. "Do you feel that?"
Eli nodded once.
Then placed his hand over hers.
And suddenly—
The world shifted .
The silence broke apart.
Not with sound.
Not with light.
But with presence .
Something stirred beneath the roots.
Waiting.
Watching.
Remembering.
Nessa opened her eyes.
Then signed, voiceless but certain:
It's ready.
Luka exhaled sharply. "Ready for what?"
She looked at him.
Then drew one final thing in her sketchpad.
A door opening.
From the inside .
And beneath it, a single word.
Come.
Back in Hollowbrook, the changes grew stronger.
Miss Dara reported students waking up speaking names they had never heard before.
Mr. Kael found new spirals carved into the wooden beams of the archive room.
And in the quiet corners of the town—where silence had always listened—
People began to dream.
Of forests.
Of doors.
Of someone calling their name from the other side.