EMBER'S POV
The forest is… freaking beautiful.
One minute I was bracing myself for more of those creepy, watchful shadows from the night before, and the next, they were retreating like a tide. It didn't feel like a woods anymore; it felt like a cathedral. Sunlight cut through the trees in these heavy, golden beams that looked so thick you could almost grab them. They hit the mossy floor with what felt like actual weight.
Usually, a hike this long would have me gasping for air, but my lungs felt light. Effortless. And that pounding headache? The one that usually follows a night of drinking and crying until your eyes swell shut? It was just gone. It was a little spooky, honestly, how okay I felt.
By the time morning started leaning into the afternoon, the whole vibe of the forest had shifted. The light wasn't creeping around anymore; it was just sitting there, resting on the leaves and warming the dampness right out of the air. I walked next to Elara, watching her. Watching our surroundings. She moved through this place like she was reciting a familiar prayer—no effort, no second-guessing—while I followed her in a quiet sort of awe I couldn't even try to explain. The path itself had this innately gentle curve to it, like it had learned how to be patient from the trees.
The birds got quieter as the day grew fuller, replaced by the low, living hush of insects and things moving in the distance. Every step revealed another small miracle: the way a leaf looked like it was glowing when the sun hit its veins, or the way the dust rose lazily where our feet disturbed the earth. The smell of sap and dirt started to actually ground me. I could feel the knots in my brain finally starting to untie themselves.
I didn't say a word. Peace had settled between us, unspoken and complete. The forest wasn't asking any questions or trying to understand anything; it just wanted me there. And as the hours stretched gently from morning into afternoon, I realized that this, perhaps, was what serenity felt like: to walk without fear, without hurry, held inside a beauty that existed entirely on its own, yet welcomed me like I belonged.
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I expected the exhaustion to slam into me at any second, but it never happened. My head was quiet. My mind was empty for the first time in years. No spiraling thoughts. No internal noise. Just the rhythm of my feet on the dirt. I felt like I'd finally taken off a heavy winter coat I hadn't even realized I was wearing.
Seeing the awe written all over my face, Elara started describing Springtown to me. I couldn't help but think that "Springtown" was a pretty ordinary, almost boring name for a place full of literal freaking Magical Creatures. Elara must have seen that thought pass right across my expression because she laughed again. I wanted to ask her about the "sickness" Ashthorne kept bringing up, but I caught a look in her eyes that stopped me. It was one of those looks that told me the question would just go unanswered, so I kept my mouth shut.
"We're close," Elara said. She didn't look back, but I could hear the grin in her voice.
Then, we hit the gates.
Springtown didn't do straight lines. Everything was curves and tangles. Vines wrapped around these beautifully carved beams, and flowers just grew wherever they felt like it. I stopped dead, my boots clicking against cobblestones that looked and shone like polished river glass.
The marketplace was a total sensory overload. Colors everywhere. Delicate fabric was draped over stalls like wings, and the air smelled incredible—like honey and crushed mint. I'd been expecting everyone to look like Elara—you know, silver hair, ethereal, otherworldly.
But the crowd was a mosaic. I saw skin the color of deep mahogany, skin that looked like mine. I saw warm bronzes and coppery golds that seemed to soak up the sun. They moved with this grace that made me feel a little clunky, but for a split second, I actually felt grounded like...like I belonged here with all the noise and everything.
Elara stopped at a stall covered in dried herbs and jars of glowing pollen. An older woman was hunched over some stems, her fingers moving like a blur. She looked maybe fifty, but if I'd learned anything from Elara's explanation, she was probably ancient.
"Hyacinth," Elara called out.
The woman didn't look up at first. Then her nose twitched. She tilted her head back, sniffing the air like she'd caught a scent she recognized. Her hands went totally still. She froze.
When her eyes snapped to mine, the color drained out of her face so fast it was like someone pulled a curtain. Her jaw literally dropped. She looked back and forth between me and Elara, her hands starting to shake against the wood of the counter.
Elara let out a laugh—a bright, silver sound—but it felt a little forced. A little too loud. "Look at that," Elara teased. "The first time words have actually failed you, Hyacinth. I never did think I'd see the day when the town's loudest gossip ran out of things to say."
The tension broke, but only on the surface. Hyacinth forced a shaky laugh, her chest heaving like she'd just run a mile. "You—you didn't warn me, Elara. You can't just… bring a thing like this in here without a word."
"She isn't a thing," Elara said, and I heard her voice get real sharp, real fast. "She's a guest. And her name is Ember."
Hyacinth wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes still darting all over my face. She started shouting to the people at the other stalls. "Joyna! Maeyrah! Come look! Look what Elara brought!"
People gathered around, smiling and saying hello. I smiled back, trying to be polite, but then I caught Hyacinth's eye again. She wasn't laughing. She looked terrified. It was just a flash of fear before she covered it up with a grin that was way too wide to be real.
I started looking at the others. Now that I was paying attention, I saw it everywhere. The smiles were like masks. Their mouths were smiling, but their eyes were flickering with something else. Fear. Desperation. And a heavy, dark sadness that made my stomach turn.
The whole place went dead silent when we heard a cane tap against the stone.
An old woman stepped forward. She was wearing layers of heavy, dark wool that looked way too hot for the afternoon sun. She had this cane made of twisted black wood, but she didn't use it for balance—she held it like a scepter. She pushed through the crowd, her face like stone. She didn't smile. She didn't say hi. She just walked a slow, agonizing circle around me, inspecting me like a piece of equipment.
She gave a short, sharp nod to Elara. "She will do," the woman said.
She turned to walk away, and it felt like the whole market finally exhaled.
"I think you've forgotten yourself, Elder Liliana," Elara's voice was hard as flint. "It isn't time yet. And besides," she said, her teeth gritted, "she… she came here on her own."
The old woman stopped.
She turned around slowly. First her cane hit the ground, then her shoulders shifted, then her face. Her eyes were like needles when they hit mine.
She turned all the way back to us.
"WHAT?"