The chill of the night wrapped around me like an old friend—comforting in its coldness, numbing enough to dull the whirlwind inside me. I had been walking for... who knows how long, wandering through Sylvaris with no destination in mind. Yet no matter how far I went, I never reached anywhere secluded.
The forest was alive. Houses nestled in trees, stalls bustling under canopies, people roaming and laughing under the glow of nature. It was as if the entire forest breathed with life—everywhere. Always someone around. Either Sylvaris was endless, or I was walking in circles. Trapped.
Thoughts swirled, each one heavier than the last. Exhausted. That was the word—my heart, my mind... tired. I thought stepping into this forest would ease the weight, help me accept this so-called destiny. But here I was, still too afraid to face what it really meant.
Evil creature. The words echoed in my head. Who am I supposed to be? Some hero in a story I never agreed to be in? Me? Against something like that?
My child.
I stopped. What...?
A shiver shot down my spine. My gaze darted around—people perched on roots and branches glanced my way, curious at my sudden flinch. I must've looked insane, standing there wide-eyed. But—I heard it. I know I did.
The forest glowed softly, a warm white hue bathing the trees and pathways in gentle light. For a fleeting moment, I let the beauty distract me, pulling me away from the storm in my chest. Breathe. Just... breathe.
My child, come here.
There it was again—ethereal, soothing, like a lullaby weaving through my veins. Warm. Inviting. Dangerous? Maybe. But my body... moved. Feet stepping forward on their own, confident, certain—as if I knew where to go. Why am I—
And then I saw it.
A tree.
No—the tree.
Massive. Ancient. Its trunk stretched upward beyond sight, vast branches swallowing the night sky. How had I not seen it before? Something that big should've been visible from miles away. Yet... here it stood, hidden until now.
The base of the tree was adorned with woven charms, offerings in baskets—flowers glowing softly, their luminescence bathing the ground in a dreamlike glow. Mystical. Beautiful.
Child. You came.
My breath hitched. Slowly, my gaze lifted toward the sprawling branches. Is that voice... from the tree?
No. My logical brain rebelled. This is it. You've snapped. Too much stress. Too many emotions. Now you're hallucinating. I let out a shaky scoff, backing away. Get a grip, Aveline.
I speak to you, my child. I feel your sadness.
My body froze. That warmth—familiar, comforting, ancient. Like being wrapped in a mother's embrace. It seeped into every corner of my being, melting walls I didn't know I still had up.
No one talks to me like that... Not with that kind of care.
Tears? Dammit—no, no. But the voice—it knew. Knew the ache in my chest, the exhaustion pooling behind my eyes. Why does it sound like it actually cares?
I do care, child. Gentle. Reassuring. For you hold the destiny that—
That word.
That damned word.
Destiny.
It slammed into me like a strike of lightning—rage igniting, consuming the warmth in an instant. "Stop!" The shout burst from me, raw and sharp. My hands clenched, nails biting into my palms. "Just—stop. I can't—"
The word was a trigger—bomb detonated.
Every mention of it was another weight, another expectation piled on shoulders already crumbling under the strain. Destiny, destiny, destiny. Like my life wasn't mine anymore. Like everyone else knew what I was supposed to be except me.
Child.
The voice brushed against my skin like a calming breeze, ancient yet tender. It filled the hollow spaces inside me, sinking into the cracks where fear festered. My breath hitched.
No need to fear, it murmured, the sound weaving around me like a lullaby from another time. No need to worry. Everything unfolds as it must, for the greater good.
My throat tightened, chest burning with frustration and helplessness. "Greater good?" I whispered. "What good comes from throwing me into this? I never asked for it!"
The tree's leaves rustled, not with reprimand but with understanding—as if it felt the ache in my voice. You, my child, the voice softened further, are not here by chance. You are a fragment of this world itself. You belong. Though distance kept you apart for a time, the thread of your being was always woven into this land.
Belong. The word hit something deep, cracking the wall I had built around myself.
It is never too late, the tree continued, warmth spreading through every word, and you are not lost. You are designed with purpose. The calling would not have come if your heart was not ready, even if your mind lingers in doubt.
Tears pricked at my eyes. Ready? I didn't feel ready—if anything, I felt like I was unraveling. But the voice didn't judge or rush me. It was patient, as if time itself bent to give me space to breathe.
"I... don't know if I can do this," I choked out. "What if I mess it up?"
Fear is not failure, the tree replied gently. Doubt is not defeat. To question is to care—and that, child, is where strength begins. You carry more within you than you know. Trust that when you falter, the path will hold you steady.
A sob slipped free, shoulders sagging as the tightness in my chest eased, even if just a little.
You would not be here if you were not meant to be, the voice added, like a hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder. You are not alone in this journey, nor will you walk it blind. Answers will find you when the time is right. For now... breathe. Let the weight fall, if only for a moment.
I closed my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. The world didn't stop spinning. The confusion didn't vanish. But something inside me shifted—a fragile calm settling beneath the turmoil.
"I just..." My voice broke. "I wish I knew why me."
Some truths must be lived to be understood, the tree answered softly. Your heart's questions will guide you. Let them—but do not let them drown you. There is time, child. You need not carry everything at once.
A long silence stretched between us, filled only with the gentle rustling of leaves and the faint glow of floating lights around the tree. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself breathe. Not for answers, not for solutions—just breathe.
And in that breath... I found a flicker of peace. Time will tell.
"Though most of my questions remain unanswered," I murmured, voice still tremulous from the fading sobs, "I appreciate you taking the time to calm me... and assure me that everything is fine."
The air grew still, the ancient tree's soft golden glow bathing me in warmth. I lingered in the moment, heart wavering between lingering doubt and newfound comfort. There was still so much I didn't understand—but for now, it was enough.
"I do have one more question—"
"Aveline!"
The shout tore through the quiet like a ripple across still water. I turned toward the sound but didn't move, eyes drawn back to the tree as if seeking another word, another drop of wisdom. "How did you talk to me?" I asked softly.
Silence answered. Only the wind stirred, threading through branches above, its song ancient and indifferent. It was gone—or perhaps it had never truly spoken at all.
"Aveline!"
The voice rang clearer, urgency tightening the air. I exhaled, letting the weight of my curiosity settle for now. Turning, I moved toward the call, my steps careful along the uneven forest floor still dappled with ethereal light.
Branches parted to reveal Aldric, his gaze darting through the trees, concern etched deep across his face. Ragnak trailed close behind, his silhouette calm but alert.
"I'm here," I called out.
Relief washed over Aldric's features as he strode toward me. "Aveline! Where have you been?" His voice brimmed with exasperation but softened with concern. In that moment, his worry reminded me so much of my father that it tugged at something tender inside me.
"Clearing my thoughts," I said, gesturing vaguely to the forest around us.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's head back. It's late. The forest might light up at night, but that doesn't mean it's safe."
Nodding, I fell into step beside him. Ragnak moved to my other side, his presence grounding in its own quiet way.
"Child," Ragnak's deep voice broke the silence, carrying warmth and something that felt like pride, "you are strong. There's no doubt in my bones—you're meant for something far greater than you can yet see. I felt it the moment you entered these woods... a presence that doesn't just pass through—it belongs."
I glanced at him, lips tugging into a small, tired smile. "You said something similar about Aldric earlier. You sensed him when he stepped into the forest."
He chuckled. "One of my gifts. I'm no Nature Wielder—I wield shadows. In this forest, shadows stretch far and wide, whispering to those who know how to listen. Nature and shadow... they're different, but they respect one another. Nature sings. Shadows... they watch. And where there's light, there's always shadow. That's how I knew you were here—every step you took, you walked within my reach."
A chill of awe ran through me. His power was vast—quiet, yet ever-present. "How long did it take you to master that?" I asked, curiosity pulling at me despite the weight of the night.
But as we reached the edge of the forest, the glimmering trees gave way to the town's quieter streets. The business district of Veldaris Glade was a shadow of its bustling daytime self—stalls closed, warm lanterns casting pools of soft light. Fireflies drifted lazily in the air, their glow a calming contrast to my earlier turmoil.
"That's a story for another time," Ragnak said with a grin. He turned to Aldric, pulling him into a hearty hug. "It's good seeing you again, pal."
"Of course," Aldric replied, returning the gesture.
Ragnak turned to me, his gaze kind but carrying something deeper—knowledge, maybe... or a hint of fate. "We'll talk more, Aveline. I have a feeling our paths will cross often."
His words lingered long after he turned away, disappearing into the amber-lit streets. I glanced at Aldric, hoping for some clue as to what that meant, but he only offered a knowing smile.
I sighed. "Can you teleport us back? I'm exhausted."
Without a word, he reached out and grasped my forearm. A warm pulse surged through me—then the world shifted, folding in on itself before unraveling into familiar surroundings.
We stood before the cottage, the quiet hum of crickets greeting us. Fatigue hit me full force, and I didn't bother with formalities. Shoes still on, clothes rumpled, I trudged inside and collapsed onto my bed.
The ceiling blurred above me, thoughts swirling but too tired to settle. My body ached. My mind spun. But sleep crept in anyway, heavy and relentless, and soon I surrendered to the darkness.