The cottage Maret offered was small, old, and smelled faintly of herbs and smoke—but it was warm, and it was theirs, at least for now. Lyra stood in the center of the single-room shelter, taking it in: a hearth of soot-darkened stone, a cot near the back wall, and a low wooden table with mismatched chairs. Kael had already slumped into one of them, his injured side clearly aching despite the rest he'd had.
Outside, the village bustled with quiet life—children running past with buckets, the sound of goats bleating in the distance, and the dull clang of metal from a nearby smithy. Inside, though, there was only stillness.
"You okay?" Lyra asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Kael nodded, slowly. "Better than I've been in weeks. Still sore, but… it's not bad."
She sat across from him, folding her legs beneath her. "This place… it doesn't feel real."
Kael tilted his head. "Too peaceful?"
"Too normal," she corrected.
They were allowed to stay under Maret's word, and the villagers—though cautious—did not turn them away. Some stared at Lyra with suspicion or thin smiles that didn't reach their eyes. Others nodded politely but offered no words. It was clear Kael's reputation gave them a chance. It was also clear the village wasn't used to strangers.
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Over the next few days, they helped where they could. Kael chopped wood and carried water, slowly regaining his full strength. Lyra wandered, mapping out the quiet corners of the village: the cobbled well at the center, the slope leading to the riverbank, the healer's cottage shaded by tall reeds. But more than any other place, she kept returning to the shrine.
The shrine sat at the crest of a small hill, simple and half-forgotten, its stones worn smooth by wind and time. No one seemed to visit often. Weeds crept between the cracks in the steps, and the incense bowls were empty. But the moment she stepped near it, Lyra felt something shift inside her—something ancient and familiar.
She began visiting it every evening.
It wasn't out of ritual, not at first. But each time she climbed the hill, each time she placed her hand on the cold stone pillar in its center, the echoes stirred stronger. Memories—not clear, but weighted—rose in her chest. She would sit there long after the sun dipped below the trees, letting silence settle over her like a second skin.
One evening, she spoke aloud.
"I know this place. I don't know why… but I do."
Noxy answered quietly. "Some memories are tied to land, not just time. Perhaps this hill remembers you too."
Lyra closed her eyes. "But I can't stay here. Not forever."
"You already knew that, didn't you?"
She did.
Later that night, Lyra dreamed.
She stood beneath a sky fractured like glass, stars scattered like shards. A blade rested in her hand—impossibly light, forged of gleaming silver and starlight itself. She turned slowly, surrounded by voices she couldn't see.
They whispered names. Her name. Other names.
A feeling of terrible purpose settled into her bones, and she raised the blade without knowing why.
Then the stars shifted. She stood on a stone path, flanked by ruins covered in moss. A whisper carried on the wind said, "Return."
When she woke, her heart was pounding.
"You saw it," Noxy said.
Lyra didn't speak for a long moment. Then: "What was it?"
"A truth. Not the whole of it—but a shape. A shadow of what lies ahead."
"The blade… it felt like mine."
"It was."
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That evening, she returned to the cottage and found Kael stirring the embers of the hearth.
"You were at the shrine again today," he said without looking up.
"Yeah. It… calls to me more than anything else in this village."
Kael offered a half-smile. "Fitting, somehow. You've always had one foot outside every room."
She sat down near him, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"I think I'm going to leave. Not yet, but soon."
He nodded slowly. "Where to?"
"Back into the forest. Deeper. There's something there, something that keeps pulling at me. I don't know what it is yet—but I have to find it."
Kael stared into the fire. "I always thought the forest was a place you escaped from, not returned to."
"Maybe it is. But it also feels like a place where something important was left behind. Something I was meant to find."
He looked over at her, serious now. "So you're preparing leave."
Lyra nodded. "I need a blade. Some food for the road. Maybe even a bit of coin if I can earn it. And time—time to listen for more echoes."
"You'll have it," Kael said. "Whatever you need. I'll help however I can."
She gave him a grateful look.
"I'll probably have to speak to the smith again tomorrow. Maybe Maret has old maps or something resembling one."
Kael chuckled. "You're really doing this huh."
"Would you rather I stayed?"
His expression faltered for a moment.
"I'd rather you be safe. But staying here when everything inside you says go? That wouldn't be safe either."
A pause settled between them. Then Lyra asked quietly,
"You're still planning to search for your brother, right?"
Kael nodded. "Yeah. I've been asking around. Someone mentioned a traveler matching his description passed through a village to the west some times ago. I'll go there after I've recovered fully."
Lyra folded her hands in her lap. "Then we'll part ways. Not now. But soon."
He nodded, solemn. "Not forever."
She smiled faintly. "Just long enough to find what's calling to me."
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In the days that followed, Lyra visited the shrine more often. She also bartered with the villagers for supplies—some dried root vegetables, a hunting knife from the smith, a travel cloak Maret patched herself. She traded labor for what coin she could earn, though it wasn't much. Kael helped when he could, his strength returning day by day.
One morning, Lyra returned from the shrine to find Kael patching a tear in his coat.
"How much longer do you think you'll stay?" he asked casually.
"A few more days, a week at most," she answered. "I still need to prepare. And I want one more dream. One more echo."
He looked thoughtful. "Do you think they're guiding you?"
"No," Lyra said. "I think they're warning me. But I also think they're mine. They belong to me in a way I can't explain."
Kael stood and dusted off his hands. "Then let's get you what you need. You follow the echoes. I'll handle the coin."
They shared a laugh, brief but warm.
That night, as they sat by the hearth, Lyra whispered,
"It's close. Whatever I need to find—it's closer than I thought."
Kael didn't ask how she knew. He simply nodded.
He believed her.
And soon, the forest would call her back.