Rain tapped steadily against the windowpane, a quiet rhythm that echoed the emptiness in Elara's small room. The flickering light of her desk lamp cast long, shaky shadows along the peeling walls of the orphanage. She sat curled up on her narrow bed, clutching a worn-out book she wasn't even reading. Her thoughts were elsewhere — in the haunting dreams that had started months ago.
In every one of them, there was a woman. Ethereal, tall, eyes like shimmering pools of silver, and hair cascading like a waterfall of starlight. The woman never said much — only one sentence, always whispered in the final seconds before Elara awoke gasping for breath.
"Return the flower, my daughter."
Elara didn't understand the meaning, and she never dared tell anyone. Who would believe her? She was just another girl with no past, no family, and no future.
Except... something was changing.
The crow had started appearing three weeks ago. It didn't act like a normal bird. It followed her to school. It perched outside her window at night. It watched her — as if waiting. Its feathers shimmered with an odd blue sheen when the light hit them. Its eyes held something ancient. And every time it cawed, it sent shivers down her spine.
That night, it came closer than ever before.
The orphanage had gone quiet. Everyone else was asleep. Elara lay awake, heart racing for reasons she couldn't explain. Then — tap tap — the sound came, light and deliberate.
She turned her head.
There, on the windowsill, was the crow.
Its gaze locked with hers. Then it hopped once and took off — but it didn't fly away. It hovered in place, wings wide, like a shadow suspended in moonlight, and waited.
Something inside Elara shifted.
Without grabbing her coat, without thinking, she stepped barefoot onto the cold wooden floor, opened the window, and climbed out.
The air bit at her skin as she ran through the quiet town, the crow always just ahead. Her breath came in visible puffs, her heartbeat louder than the night around her. The town ended. The trees began.
She followed.
The forest welcomed her with a strange hush. No rustling, no owls — only silence, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
The crow glided between the trees, leading her deeper.
She didn't know how long she walked. Minutes? Hours? The world felt different here. The fog was thicker. The stars brighter. The moon… had two rings around it.
And then she saw it.
A circle of ancient standing stones stood in the clearing ahead, worn and moss-covered, humming faintly with a pulse she could feel in her chest. At the center was a flat stone slab, and carved into it — a glowing symbol, faintly blue, pulsating in rhythm with the crow's cry.
Elara stepped into the circle.
The wind howled suddenly, lifting leaves and her hair into a swirl. The crow landed on the stone slab and stared at her.
Elara felt her limbs move on their own, like her body knew what to do even if her mind didn't. She knelt before the glowing symbol and reached out with trembling fingers.
The moment her fingers brushed the symbol, a blinding light erupted from the stone.
The ground vanished beneath her.
She was falling.
Down, down, through endless light and shadow, stars and whispers, memories not her own — Return the flower, daughter… — voices of the past, of the forest, of blood and time. She felt as though she were being pulled apart and rebuilt all at once.
And then — silence.
She slammed into soft earth.
For a long moment, Elara didn't move. Her ears rang. Her skin tingled. She opened her eyes to see green — not the dull green of her world, but vivid, almost glowing. Above her stretched trees taller than any she'd ever seen, their trunks twisted and ancient, their leaves shimmering with dew that glowed faintly in the dark.
Birds chirped. The wind sighed. The forest was alive — truly alive.
She sat up slowly, heart racing, breathing hard.
"What… where…?" she murmured.
The crow circled once above her and vanished into the trees.
She was alone.
And yet — not.
From the shadows between the trees stepped a figure.
A woman, cloaked in pale robes, her long black braid trailing behind her, a wooden staff in her hand. Her face was lined with age, but her eyes burned with wisdom.
"I have been waiting," the woman said softly.
Elara stumbled to her feet, wary. "Who are you?"
"My name is Sae-Myung. And you… are the last daughter of Sylara."
"Sylara?" The word sounded foreign, yet familiar. Like a memory she couldn't place.
The woman stepped closer, lifting her hand to Elara's cheek.
"You carry her magic. Her blood. Her sorrow. You are Elara, child of Han'Lia."
Elara's breath caught. "Han'Lia… I've heard that name. In dreams."
Sae-Myung nodded. "Not dreams. Echoes. Whispers of your true origin."
Elara's knees gave out, and she sat back down on the grass, overwhelmed.
"This has to be a dream," she whispered.
But the wind didn't feel like a dream. Nor did the hum of energy in the earth beneath her. Nor did the pain in her palms where she had scraped them against real stone.
"This is your truth," Sae-Myung said. "You are not of the world you knew. You are Sylara — and the flower calls to you."
Elara looked up, the moonlight catching the tears forming in her eyes.
"What flower? What does it mean?"
Sae-Myung turned, her robes rustling like leaves.
"Come. There is much to remember."
The trees parted for her passage as Elara followed, barefoot and afraid, but drawn forward by something deep inside her — something older than memory, stronger than doubt.
Behind them, in the stone circle, the symbol glowed one final time……before fading into silence.