The hollow tree had been quiet for days.
Elowen visited it every morning, brushing away leaves from its roots, pressing her palms against the bark like she was trying to listen through her skin. She didn't speak this time. She just waited.
Amara's words echoed in her memory: "When the hollow tree speaks again, don't be afraid to answer."
But how could she answer a tree?
She began leaving small things inside its hollow—petals from the garden, tiny wildberries, a scrap of blue ribbon she once wore as a child. She didn't know why. It simply felt right, like a soft way of saying I'm still here.
And then, one morning, the tree spoke.
Not with words at first.
With wind.
The breeze curled through the branches like it was humming a song no one else could hear. The leaves danced in patterns, and the sunlight shimmered strangely, as if filtered through something ancient and knowing.
Elowen stepped inside the hollow, heart thudding. She knelt where the feathers had once rested and waited.
The air shifted.
And then came the voice.
Soft. Faint. Like a memory unraveling.
"Elowen..."
She held her breath.
"You are not the first to listen."
Elowen touched the bark, her fingers trembling. "Who are you?"
"A keeper. A watcher. One who once loved her too."
Elowen's throat tightened. "You knew Amara?"
A pause.
"She was light before she was shadow. A song before a silence."
Elowen's heart ached. "What happened to her?"
"She was chosen. Then left behind. Magic remembers. So do the trees."
The breeze faltered. A chill passed through the hollow like a ghost.
"You carry her sorrow now."
"I don't want her to be alone," Elowen whispered.
"Then listen closely."
The bark under her hand pulsed with warmth. The light dimmed—just for a moment. Then returned. Like the forest had blinked.
"There is a place she cannot go. Not without you."
"Where?" Elowen asked, desperate now. "Tell me where."
But the voice faded.
And left only silence behind.
---
That night, Elowen sat at her window, the newest feather beside her. She didn't cry. She didn't speak.
But when the wind passed through the trees, it said her name again.
And this time, it sounded like a promise.