The forest had changed, subtly and softly, as if it, too, had felt the echo of her return.
It had rained the night before, and now everything shimmered—leaves glistened like they were dusted in silver, and the air was filled with the scent of wet earth and pine needles. The glade where they once danced was dappled in soft sunlight, and at the center of it stood Liora, her hand resting against the firelight tree.
Cassian watched from a distance. His boots were muddy, his cloak heavy with dew, but his heart beat in a new rhythm. One he hadn't known since the day she disappeared.
He didn't speak at first. He wanted to see if the memory of her presence would vanish in the morning light like it had so many times in his dreams. But she stayed. Solid. Real.
Alive.
Liora turned. Her silver eyes caught his, and for a moment, neither of them breathed.
"Hi," she said softly.
Cassian's throat tightened. He hadn't imagined this moment so many times because he never thought it would come. "You're here," he said. "You're really here."
She nodded. "I'm sorry it took so long."
His steps toward her were slow, careful—as if rushing would break the spell that held this moment together. "I thought you were gone for good. That... that the forest had taken you."
"It nearly did," she said, and her voice trembled like a song played on a forgotten harp. "But something brought me back."
Cassian reached out, fingers brushing hers. "What was it?"
"You," she whispered.
A silence passed between them. Not empty—full. Full of all the words they hadn't spoken, the tears they hadn't cried, and the hope that had lived quietly in their hearts.
"I kept the stone," he said, reaching into his pocket. He held up the hollow stone, now faded and cracked, but still warm. "It glowed for days after you left. Then it dimmed. But I never let it go."
Liora took it in her hand. "It's still warm," she murmured. "The magic remembers."
Cassian smiled faintly. "So do I."
They sat beneath the firelight tree, where the roots curled around them like the arms of a friend. Liora leaned her head on his shoulder. "There were nights," she said, "when I thought I'd forget the way your voice sounded. Or the feel of the wind in this glade."
"And I was afraid I'd forget the way your laughter made the stars jealous," Cassian replied.
She laughed softly then, like she used to, and the sound made the tree tremble above them.
"Tell me everything," he said. "Tell me where you've been. What happened."
Liora took a breath. "When I passed through the wish tree... I wasn't just taken away—I was sent somewhere. A place where time is slower, where magic is thicker, but lonely. There were others like me. People who had made wishes they couldn't take back. We wandered, learning from each other, waiting for something to pull us back."
"Was it terrible?"
"It wasn't home," she said. "But I learned. I changed."
He studied her face. She looked older—not in years, but in experience. The soft lines of her cheek had been carved deeper by sorrow and wonder alike.
"I thought I'd never find my way again," she continued. "But then, during the last new moon, I heard the echo of the glade in my sleep. I felt the pull of the firelight tree. And I followed it."
Cassian felt something in his chest stir. "The new moon," he said. "That night, I stood out here. I called your name."
Her fingers laced with his. "I heard you."
They stayed that way for a long while, just breathing, listening to the forest sway around them.
Eventually, Liora asked, "Has much changed?"
Cassian gave a crooked smile. "Only everything. And nothing. The town forgot. The forest remembered. I remembered."
"And us?"
"That's the only thing I wasn't ready to forget."
She looked up at the canopy above them, where the leaves sparkled like stars. "Cassian… do you think we can begin again?"
He didn't answer at first. He reached up and broke a small twig from the tree—a tradition of sorts. In the old stories, a branch broken under a firelight tree marked the beginning of a vow. He handed it to her.
"If we start again," he said, "it won't be from where we left off. We're not who we were."
"I know," she said, taking the twig, her fingers trembling. "But maybe we're who we're meant to be now."
Cassian stood, pulling her up with him. "Come with me."
He led her through the forest, past the river where they had first skipped stones, past the hollow stone she once hid behind to watch him unnoticed. Everything was still there, touched by time but unchanged in spirit.
They reached the old cabin, the one Cassian had repaired over the years in case she returned. Flowers bloomed along the edges, a garden grown from her memory.
"You kept it," she said, eyes wide.
"For you," he replied. "Always for you."
Tears shimmered in her eyes. "How do you do it, Cassian? Keep believing in something even when it's gone?"
"Because some things never really leave," he said. "They just wait. Like the new moon."
That night, the two of them stood on the edge of the glade, hands joined, hearts pounding in quiet rhythm. The moon overhead was new again—dark, quiet, full of promise.
And as they stood beneath it, Liora whispered, "This time, I'm not letting go."
Cassian smiled. "Then let's rise together."