The morning mist clung to the Verdantveil, silvering the air and softening the edges of Thornveil Isle. From their camp on the riverbank, the party watched its silhouette in silence — an emerald shape that seemed both impossibly near and untouchably distant.
Ezra crouched in the shallows, running a hand along the smooth river stones. "If that's really Thornveil, there has to be a way across."
Gideon shaded his eyes. "Or a way in. Places like that don't just sit there without reason."
Skyling tilted her head. "Then why do I feel like it's watching us?"
Before Eliakim could answer, a faint shimmer caught his eye — half-hidden by the curling roots of an old riverside willow. He stepped closer, boots sinking slightly into damp earth. There, carved into the exposed trunk, was a symbol: a single, stylized flower. Its petals spiraled inward like a labyrinth.
The moment his fingers brushed the carving, a sharp pulse rang in his skull.Eliakim Darkmoor.
He stiffened. The voice was smooth, ancient — the Codex of Imreth.The bloom that does not wilt marks the threshold. The Yggdrasil leaf… the key.
The image came unbidden: the golden-green leaf he'd shown Ezra and Caleb, suspended in light, drifting toward the flower sigil before dissolving into its heart.
He drew back, forcing his expression into calm as the others approached. Caleb was already watching him — too closely.
"Find something?" Caleb asked, voice casual.
Eliakim's mind raced, but his tone stayed even. "Maybe. But I think we'll need to look closer… tomorrow."
The river lapped quietly at the bank, but somewhere beyond the mist, a ripple spread across the water — as if Thornveil Isle had just exhaled.
Mist thickened over the Verdantveil as they prepared to cross. Gideon waded knee-deep into the shallows, pulling a narrow, flat-bottomed ferry from beneath a tangle of river reeds — half-rotted but still sturdy enough for the five of them.
"Found this while scouting upstream last night," he said with a grin. "Saved us the trouble of building a raft."
Eliakim eyed the boat, then the slow current beyond. "Convenient." His gaze flicked briefly toward Caleb, who only hummed in mild agreement, running a hand along the weathered wood as though reacquainting himself with it.
They pushed off. The river's glassy surface mirrored the pale morning sky, but every so often, a shadow passed beneath — shapes that didn't match the drift of fish. Ezra sat at the bow, scanning the mist-veiled shoreline for any other sigils, while Skyling — perched at the stern — dipped her hooked beak toward the water, letting droplets roll off in silver arcs. To the others, she was just their keen-eyed avian companion. But Eliakim felt the faint press of her thoughts in his mind, like a question waiting for an answer.
We're being watched, her presence whispered across his awareness.
Halfway across, the air shifted. A faint fragrance, like something floral but indistinct, threaded through the mist. It was pleasant at first — soft, almost nostalgic — yet there was a heaviness behind it, a weight that made the back of Eliakim's neck prickle.
"Smell that?" Gideon asked, sniffing the air.
"Wild jasmine?" Ezra guessed, though her brow furrowed. "But… there's none in this region."
Caleb's eyes lingered on the island's silhouette. "Some flowers bloom where they shouldn't. Others wait for the right hand to open them."
Eliakim's gaze darted toward him, sharp and searching, but Caleb had already turned to the water, tapping his fingers against the hull in a rhythm Eliakim swore he'd heard before. Skyling shifted her talons on the wood, feathers ruffling in quiet unease.
When the boat finally scraped against Thornveil's shore, the mist parted just enough to reveal the treeline — gnarled trunks with roots that broke the sand like veins, and leaves a shade too vivid to be natural. Between the trunks, small bursts of color pulsed faintly in the undergrowth, like flowers breathing.
Gideon stepped onto the sand first, stretching with a laugh. "Well, here we are. Looks harmless enough."
Eliakim didn't answer. The Codex's earlier words still echoed in his skull, but he kept them there, locked behind his teeth. Skyling tilted her head toward the forest, and in his mind, her voice came again — this time low, clipped, and certain.
The ground remembers them.
This was only the threshold. Whatever waited beyond… had already noticed them.