It was the morning of the second day when one of the young villagers—a swift-footed boy with owl-features—approached Charlisa.
"The Matriarch calls," he said simply, then darted away.
Charlisa followed the winding paths to a clearing at the heart of the village. There, under a canopy of woven vines and painted cloths, stood a tall, silver-furred woman draped in layers of feathers and beads. Her eyes, though aged, were sharp as obsidian. She sat cross-legged on a raised stone dais, flanked by two elders and surrounded by hanging talismans carved from bone and bark.
Charlisa bowed low, palms together. "Thank you for receiving me."
The Matriarch studied her in silence, then gestured to the cushion before her. "Sit, child."
Charlisa obeyed, folding her knees beneath her.
"You are not the first outsider to land here," the Matriarch said, her voice low and textured like the bark of an old tree. "But you are the first to carry silence instead of demand. That alone makes you worth my time."
Charlisa remained quiet, unsure whether to feel honored or nervous.
"Tell me of your roots," the Matriarch commanded.
Charlisa nodded. "My mother was from India—Shalu, a healer who loved plants and quiet wisdom. My grandmother Vina taught me the meaning behind each leaf. My father was a zoologist from France. He studied animals, their instincts and paths. I carry pieces of them both."
The Matriarch leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "You are the child of knowledge and nature. That has meaning here."
She tapped the stone floor twice, and an assistant brought over a carved bowl of water. The Matriarch held it up so the morning light shimmered across its surface.
"You are in the realm we call Orayana—the Land of Wild Memory," she explained. "This world is ancient, older than most souls that pass through it. Here, beasts and kin live by bond, not conquest. But we are not without danger."
Charlisa's brow furrowed. "Is there a way back?"
The Matriarch's expression grew softer, but her answer was firm. "The path that brought you here has no return. But perhaps you were never meant to return. Orayana does not take without purpose."
A hush fell between them.
"I don't wish to cause disturbance," Charlisa said gently. "I only want to live with respect."
The Matriarch smiled faintly. "A stranger with humility is rare. Stay true to that. Offer your hands when needed, and your heart when earned."
She rose to her full height. "You may stay. But remember, belonging is not a gift—it is cultivated."
Charlisa stood, bowing once more. "I understand."
As she stepped away from the matriarch's platform, she felt a curious calm settle over her. This new world, strange and wild as it was, had spoken to her.
And she, perhaps, had begun to answer.