DidI know this place?
And, if so, why couldn’t I clearly remember anything about it?
“Nova?”
“I’ve been here before, I think. But it’s slightly…wrong, again. Like it’s all been rearranged somehow…”
A branch creaked above us, slow and deliberate, as if the forest was craning closer to hear.
Thalia gripped her staff tightly in both hands. “It feels oddly aware of us, doesn’t it?”
“A sentient forest.” Zayn let out a cough. “That’sa horror I wasn’t entirely prepared for,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “And I was prepared fora lotof different horrors the moment I agreed to come on this little adventure.”
Cautiously, we approached the arched trees. A strange glimmer pulsed just beyond them, bright but obscured, like moonlight viewed from underwater.
A short distance away, Aleks had stopped in his tracks. The magic he’d been using to light our way grew dim, and the forest fell silent, save for our tense breathing.
Then, it started: A song. At first, I thought it was merely the wind scraping branches together and rattling pinecones in a strangely rhythmic way…until I heard a soft, sparkling voice joining in.
I fell into a trance, listening to it.
I don’t know how much time passed before I managed to break free, my eyes finding and focusing on the faint orb of light still hovering next to Aleks.
“…Do you hear that?” I whispered, inching closer to him.
He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to; he was looking in the exact direction the song seemed to be echoing from, his fists clenching and unclenching, his entire body rigid.
Zayn and Thalia didn’t seem to hear anything; they’d moved on to exploring the area on the far side of the clearing.
Aleks gave his head a little shake and walked toward them. I started to follow, until I was distracted by a different sound: Footsteps shuffling through the brush, somewhere off in the opposite direction. The movements sounded heavy. Weary.
Phantom poked his head out of my pocket and let out a hiss as the noise drew closer; he was so small, so weak, that I felt him more than I heard him. I urged him deeper into my pocket and squeezed Grimnor’s handle, preparing to spin and strike if necessary.
“Late for your lesson, as per usual,” said a familiar voice.
I turned to see Orin standing less than a dozen feet away, leaning against a walking stick that barely seemed to be keeping him upright.
He looked…awful.
There was no other word for it. His skin was waxy and drawn tight over sharp bones, his lips pale as milk, and his eyes—once bright amethyst and constantly shining with curiosity—were clouded and rimmed with dark lines.
His voice wavered with a bit of uncharacteristic emotion as he said, “I expected I’d be seeing you much sooner; Bastian wrote to me a few days ago, telling me you intended to return. The vaekin that carried his message into this realm barely arrived in one piece.”
I stepped toward him, torn between embracing him and shaking him, demanding answers.
“I had hoped we’d meet again,” he said, quietly.
Despite my irritation with him, I couldn’t help but say, “Me too.”
“Our worlds are in quite a perilous state, aren’t they?” he mused. “What exactly have you been up to these past months?”
“I think you could probably guess.” I failed to keep the hurt and venom from my voice as I added, “And you could probably explain all that’s been happening better than I could. If you cared enough to, that is.”
“…Wedohave a lot to talk about, I suppose.” He sighed. “Though I think that conversation is going to have to wait. The trees are restless; your mere presence has woken them up, reminding this grove of its purpose.”
“Its purpose?”
“Mm.”
