As they soared above the darkening canopy, the forest appeared endless, a rippling sea of greens and golds kissed by the fading sun. But just before they descended, she saw it—something she had never seen before. A shimmering veil, like a soap bubble stretched impossibly wide, lay over the entire forest.
A barrier.
The edges caught the sunlight like spider silk, glimmering and nearly invisible to any but the keen-eyed. Her breath caught.
So that's why no one found me. That's why I was always safe. Hidden.
The bamboo stick dipped beneath the glowing veil, and she felt a slight pressure—like stepping through water. The world grew stiller, quieter. Even the birdsong changed, muffled by the invisible shield.
They landed softly in a clearing not far from her shelter.
Her knees gave in the moment her bare feet touched the mossy earth. She collapsed onto the ground, her fingers sinking into the cool green. For the first time since the terror had taken her, she allowed herself to breathe fully. The forest felt like a mother's arms—worn and distant, but still embracing her.
Wobbling to her feet, she stumbled toward the little house she had built piece by piece.
It was no longer the same.
The door hung half-broken on its hinges, scratches across the frame. Inside, jars had shattered, herbs scattered like brittle leaves in the wind. A shelf had fallen. Her blankets were tossed, the small fire pit smothered under fallen beams and soot. Her heart squeezed at the sight.
She dropped onto the fur-covered floor in the center of the room, curling up like a child.
Her body trembled. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Then, quiet footsteps. Slow. Measured.
The stranger entered, moving with grace—barely disturbing the leaves or dust. He looked around with unreadable eyes. Not judging. Just... noticing.
He stepped closer and knelt beside her, then, without a word, held out a small object.
A round pill. Dark brown, the size of a berry. It lay in his palm, still and patient.
She stared at it.
Her thoughts swirled. Who is he? Can I trust him? What if it's poison?
He said nothing, only offering it again.
Reluctantly, she reached out. His fingers brushed hers—cold, elegant, like polished stone. She took the orb and stared. Then, cautiously, she touched it with the tip of her tongue.
Sweet.
Faintly floral. A whisper of mint. A grounding herb she couldn't name drifted up into her mind—something ancient, calming. A safety locked in flavor.
She slowly placed it on her tongue.
It melted like honey, smooth and gentle. Her breath softened. The trembling faded. Her heart slowed.
He stood, folding his hands behind his back.
For a long moment, there was no sound but the rustling of leaves outside, and the quiet settling of broken things.
Finally, she stood. Straightened. Met his eyes.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He turned his head slowly, his voice like wind through hollow bamboo.
"I shall be your teacher," he said. "I will help you refine your skills, understand what lies within you. While you are learning, you will be protected. Nothing like what happened today will reach you again."
She blinked. "There are... others like me?"
A sharp pang struck her chest. The ache of longing. Of never having belonged anywhere. Her brother had cared, yes—but now he was gone. She had lived alone, hidden, feared. Even she feared herself now.
He gave no answer to her silent question.
Instead, with a smooth sweep of his sleeve, the air shimmered.
Before her appeared an image—floating in midair.
A vast structure with high white towers reaching into the sky, shaped like twisting trees. Gardens sprawled beneath them, wild yet cultivated. Glass greenhouses sparkled under golden domes. She saw strange rooms inside—some circular and glowing, others filled with scrolls, or flowing water bending through the air like snakes.
A place of learning. Of peace. Of magic.
He flicked his sleeve again, and it vanished like a dream in mist.
"Do you wish to leave with me to that place," he asked softly, "or stay here?"
She looked around her broken shelter.
Memories clawed at her—of isolation, of hunger, of cold winters and empty nights. Her brother's laugh echoed faintly in her heart, then disappeared.
I've survived here... but is surviving enough?
Her throat tightened.
"I will go with you," she said, the words both terrifying and freeing.
He nodded once, as though he had already known.
"Do you wish to take anything with you? You will be given all you need in the school."
She looked around—her jars of herbs, handmade clothing, a few trinkets carved from wood, feathers gathered from her walks. Nothing called to her now. They were only shadows of a life that was ending.
"No," she said. "I'll leave everything."
She stepped outside.
The forest greeted her with wind and scent. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling its memory one last time.
The stranger followed behind her. His voice was calm.
As she stepped outside, the breeze met her face like a quiet welcome and a farewell at once. The bamboo stick floated gently before them once again. With one fluid motion, he stepped on it and offered her a hand. She hesitated—just a breath—and then reached out.
The moment their fingers touched, the world lifted beneath her feet.
They soared upward, through the thick canopies of the forest, past drifting leaves and startled birds, into open sky. Wind brushed her cheeks as the world below unfolded. She looked down—and gasped.
The forest she thought was endless was only a small patch in a vast land. Rolling hills, rivers like silver threads, jagged mountains, and scattered villages stretched farther than her eyes could follow.
Her heart stirred.
A longing awoke—a pulse deep within her chest. There was so much more than moss and herbs and silence. So much more than fear.
Could she walk those lands? Could she learn enough to stand tall and never tremble again?
But just as quickly, the memory of vines, screams, and the burning air returned. Her body tensed. Fear crept back in like a shadow behind the wonder.
Would she be strong enough to face it?
As if sensing her thoughts, the man said nothing. He simply guided the bamboo gently through the clouds.
And she held on—not just to the stick beneath her feet, but to the small, growing fire inside her.
Time seemed to blur as the wind whispered past her ears. The fire in her chest flickered, but the weight of all she had seen, all she had lost, began to settle in her bones. Her eyelids grew heavy. The rush of air no longer stung—something had shifted.
A warmth surrounded her, soft and subtle. Like a bubble forming around her, it pushed the wind away, wrapping her in silence. She blinked, and for a moment, thought she had imagined it.
But the man glanced at her sideways. He had done something—cast a veil, a shield perhaps. She wasn't sure what. Only that it was meant to protect her.
The bamboo beneath them moved faster now, gliding like a shadow across the clouds.
And then—she saw it.
Far in the distance, rising through a veil of thick mist, the same towers she had glimpsed in his illusion shimmered into view. Pale stone spiraled upward like the trunks of ancient trees. Glass domes caught the last of the fading sunlight. Gardens spilled over the edges of terraces, wild and luminous, as though the plants themselves glowed from within.
The closer they came, the more she felt it: a presence in the air. A pressure, not unlike the barrier over her forest—only older. Deeper. Protective.
Mist coiled around the towers, dense and silver, guarding what lay inside.
They descended slowly, gliding through the fog like a dream. Her tired eyes barely registered the landing—only the shift in sound, the way the wind hushed as they passed through the final layer.
Then, silence.
They touched down on a smooth stone path lined with flowering vines. The bamboo floated away behind them like it had never been there.
All around them, people stood still.
Some wore long robes that shimmered like starlight, others were simple, barefooted, dirt-smudged, but their eyes… their eyes gleamed with curiosity, and something else—something searching.
They looked at her. All of them.
No one spoke.
She didn't know what to do. Her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
The stranger stepped forward, placing a gentle hand at the center of her back. Not pushing. Just anchoring.
For a moment longer, the world held its breath.
Then, someone bowed.