Our journey began cautiously. The invisible map in my mind, crudely transcribed onto Kael's piece of leather, was our only guide. The path of blue light that the "Heart of the Forest" had shown me was not an existing trail; there were no footprints from those before or any wagon tracks. It was a flow of life, an unseen corridor where the forest's energy was gentler. I could feel it, a subtle vibration underfoot, a sense of "rightness" with every step we took.
Kael, with his hunter's and warrior's experience, took the lead. He moved with near-absolute silence, his eyes constantly scanning every bush, every high branch. Though he trusted my map, he never let his guard down. His spear was slung at his hip, ready for any situation. Elara walked last, her role as the rear guard. Occasionally, I saw her muttering strange words, her hand gently brushing against a tree trunk or a wildflower. She seemed to be listening to the forest in a different way, one I couldn't understand.
I was in the middle, the bridge between them, and also the bridge to this world. The "Heart of the Forest" was tucked carefully in a small leather pouch around my neck, resting against my chest. Its warmth spread through my body, keeping my mind clear and connected to the path. About every hour of travel, I would stop, take out the stone, and find a puddle of water or even just a large, dew-covered leaf to check our route. The three-dimensional map would reappear, confirming we were still on the right track and warning of the dangerous red zones lurking on either side.
The first red zone we encountered was about half a day's journey from our shelter. On my map, it was a large, dark area to the east of the path. As we drew near, the air began to change. The birdsong faded and then fell silent. A heavy, suffocating silence enveloped the space. Even the sunlight seemed to struggle to penetrate the thick canopy in that area.
Kael signaled for us to stop. He crouched low, observing the forest ahead. "Grolnok," he whispered, a word I guessed was the name of some creature. He pointed to the ground. I followed his gaze and saw enormous footprints, as large as my two hands put together, with three sharp-clawed toes pressed deep into the damp earth. They were quite fresh.
Elara stepped forward, kneeling beside a footprint. She didn't touch it, but her eyes closed, her face concentrated. "Many," she said, her voice low and firm. "Sleeping." Then she pointed towards the red forest and made a sleeping gesture, before pointing to the sun, which was now at its peak.
I understood. These creatures called Grolnoks were nocturnal and were resting in that dangerous area during the day. As long as we didn't enter their territory, we would be safe. Kael nodded, the tension in his face easing slightly. He glanced at me, a brief, grateful look. The map had helped us avoid an unnecessary and potentially fatal confrontation.
We continued moving, sticking close to the path of blue light. The forest landscape changed constantly. At one point, we passed through areas filled with giant mushrooms, as tall as small buildings, their caps emitting a soft, blue phosphorescent light. The air here was cool and damp, carrying the scent of earth and moss. Elara stopped to gather a few smaller mushrooms growing around the bases of the giants, after inspecting them carefully. She explained to me with gestures, putting a piece to her mouth to pretend-eat and nodding, then pointing to another, more colorful one and shaking her head violently, making a choking sign. Food and poison. Another important survival lesson.
Then, we entered a forest where the trees had silver trunks and purple needle-like leaves. When the wind blew, the needles brushed against each other, creating a melodious sound like wind chimes. Elara called it the "Whispering Forest." She said its songs could heal the soul, but if one listened for too long, they could become lost in its melodies forever. Hearing this, I unconsciously tightened my grip on the stone on my chest, focusing on the real path beneath my feet instead of letting my mind drift with the enchanting sounds.
Our lunch was a simple meal of remaining dried meat and some edible roots Kael had found. During the break, Kael took out a whetstone and began to sharpen the blade of his axe. The steady, scraping sound of metal on stone was the only artificial noise breaking the forest's symphony. Elara, meanwhile, meditated. She sat with her eyes closed, hands on her thighs, her breathing deep and even. The energy around her seemed to become calm and peaceful.
I used this time to experiment further with the "Heart of the Forest." I didn't need water anymore. I realized that just by placing the stone on the damp ground, I could also summon the map, though it wasn't as clear. I tried to focus on one of the red zones we had passed—the Grolnok territory. The image in my mind changed. I no longer saw the map, but a hazy image, like a dream. I saw massive creatures, their skin gnarled like stone, curled up asleep in giant hollow trees. They were lizard-like but bipedal, with short arms and incredibly powerful jaws. I could feel the latent hunger in their sleep, a primal and violent hunger.
I jerked my eyes open, my heart pounding. This ability was more than just a map. It showed me the nature of the danger. I looked at Kael and Elara. How could I explain this to them? I couldn't. For now, I could only play the role of the guide, warning them of the places to avoid.
As sunset began to fall, painting the forest in a brilliant orange-red, Kael started searching for a shelter for the night. The path of blue light led us to a small cliff, and nestled at its base was a shallow cave. It wasn't as large or discreet as the tree hollow from the night before, but it was enough to shield us from the night's dew and prying eyes.
Kael checked the cave thoroughly. He used a long branch to poke into every dark corner, ensuring no creatures were hiding inside. Meanwhile, Elara walked around the entrance, sprinkling a gray powder she took from one of her pouches. She explained by drawing a snake and a scorpion in the dirt, then drawing a circle of powder around them, and crossing them out. A barrier against insects and reptiles.
Tonight, we decided not to build a fire. The light could attract nocturnal predators. Our dinner was the mushrooms Elara had picked, prepared by soaking them in a little water from her canteen, water she had whispered a few words into. When eaten, they tasted slightly sweet and chewy, bringing a pleasant warmth to my stomach.
The night sky in this world was spectacular. Unpolluted by light, billions of stars were clearly visible, along with two moons, one large and one small, casting a shimmering silver light. Elara sat at the mouth of the cave, looking up at the stars, and began to sing softly. Her melody was low, mournful, and haunting, carrying the loss of Finn but also a glimmer of hope. Kael sat leaning against the cave wall, silently cleaning his spear, but I knew he was listening.
I didn't understand the words of the song, but I felt the emotion in it. Pain, remembrance, and a promise to live on. I thought about my world, about my family, my friends. Were they looking for me? Or did they think I had died in that plane crash? A profound loneliness washed over me.
Sensing the change in my mood, Elara stopped singing and looked at me. She smiled gently. "Lyan," she said, pronouncing my name awkwardly but sincerely. She pointed at me, then at Kael, and at herself. Then, she placed her hand over her heart. "Aethel."
I didn't know what "Aethel" meant. Maybe "friends," "family," or "companions." But the meaning wasn't as important as her gesture. She was saying we were a group, that I was not alone.
Kael looked up, too, and nodded at me. "Aethel," he repeated, his voice deep and firm.
A warm feeling spread through me, banishing the cold loneliness. I was no longer an outcast from another world. Here, under the light of two moons and billions of strange stars, beside two new companions, I had found a place, a temporary belonging. I placed my hand on my heart, too, and replied: "Aethel."
That night, we took turns on watch. When it was my turn, I sat at the cave entrance, my hand gripping the "Heart of the Forest," my eyes watching the forest shrouded in darkness. The sounds of the night were completely different from the day. The chirping of insects, the rustling of leaves, and occasionally, the distant cry of some unknown creature. But I was no longer afraid like the first night. I was the guide. I was part of the "Aethel." And tomorrow, we would continue our journey on the path of blue light, one step closer to the treetop city of Tel'Adria. Hope was no longer a tiny spark; it had become a torch illuminating the path ahead.