Chapter Two
The stranger was taken to the healer's hut, where the fire crackled uneasily and the dried herbs hanging from the rafters twisted as if stirred by unseen hands.
Amira sat beside him, watching as his body trembled under the thin cloth they had laid over him. Despite the warmth of the fire, his skin remained cold. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, as though he wrestled with dreams—or memories—that refused to release him.
Elias stood in the doorway, arms folded. "He hasn't spoken since?"
Amira shook her head. "Only those six words: I seek the tree that sings."
They both turned to look out the window at the Lantern Tree, now glowing softly in the pale gray light. It had stopped weeping, but the hum remained—a low, mournful sound, like the wind through a hollow drum.
"He knew about it," Elias said quietly. "But how? No one beyond this village should know it sings. Not anymore."
Amira didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the mark burned into the stranger's chest. It wasn't just a wound—it was a symbol. A circle with branching lines, like roots… or veins. It pulsed faintly, not just with life, but with resonance. Almost like it was listening.
That night, the dreams returned.
Amira stood in the middle of the forest, where the trees bled sap the color of dusk. The air smelled of crushed leaves and longing. A woman in a tattered white dress walked ahead of her, barefoot, silent, her hair matted with earth. The woman turned suddenly—and it was Amira herself. But older. Wearier.
She held up a finger, pressed to her lips, and whispered:
"He carries what we buried."
Amira gasped awake, her body drenched in sweat.
From the cot beside her, the stranger stirred.
His eyes were open now—brilliant, pale gold, like candlelight trapped in glass.
He spoke again, voice soft, uncertain:
"Where… is the place of forgetting?"
Amira's heart stilled.
That was what the old ones had once called the cave beneath the Lantern Tree—the place where ancestors' names were sealed in clay and buried in shadow. A sacred place never spoken of lightly.
"You were sent here," she said aloud. "But not by fate. By memory."
The man turned toward her slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't remember who I am. But I remember… the screams. The pact. The seal."
Elias stepped into the hut, hearing the words. "Seal?"
The stranger sat upright with sudden strength, eyes wide. "It was never just a covenant. It was a prison."
Outside, the Lantern Tree flared—its blossoms opening in full bloom at once, releasing a burst of golden pollen that shimmered like ash across the night sky.
Somewhere beyond the village, dogs began to howl.
And deep within the forest, something ancient stirred.