The arrow didn't move.
Neither did Kaelen. He stood frozen, his new heart pounding, his hands raised in what he hoped was a universal gesture of surrender. The young woman's eyes never left his, and in them he saw something he hadn't expected: not just anger, but pain. Deep, old pain, the kind that came from loss.
"I..." His voice came out strange, shaped by an alien throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I was just—"
"You were walking where you should not walk," she said. Her accent was musical, the words shaped differently than in human speech. "This is a sacred place. The Tree of Voices. Only the People may come here."
Behind her, the other figures had stopped their chanting. They watched him with expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility. An older man, his face marked with deeper lines and more elaborate patterns, stepped forward.
"What is this, Seri?" he asked. "A lost child? A spirit?"
"He is a dream-walker, Father," the young woman—Seri—said. "Look at his eyes. They are the eyes of the sky-people."
The older man studied Kaelen. His gaze was unsettling—it felt like being weighed, measured, judged. After a long moment, he spoke.
"Where is your body, dream-walker? The body of flesh you left behind?"
Kaelen hesitated. "Above. In the sky. In a... a metal place."
"A metal place." The man nodded slowly. "Yes. The sky-people live in metal places. They ride in metal birds. They kill with metal thunder." He stepped closer, and Kaelen saw that his eyes held the same pain as Seri's, only deeper, more worn. "Why are you here, dream-walker? Why have you come to walk among us?"
"I don't know," Kaelen said honestly. "I was asked to come. I was told... I was told to learn. To see."
"To see." The man almost smiled. "And what do you see now, dream-walker?"
Kaelen looked around. At the massive tree with its glowing tendrils. At the circle of tall, blue figures watching him. At the young woman with the bow, whose arrow had not wavered. At the jungle beyond, humming with life and light.
"I see a world I don't understand," he said.
The man nodded. "That is the first honest thing a sky-person has said in many cycles." He turned to Seri. "Lower your bow, daughter. This one may be useful."
Seri's eyes flashed with something—anger? defiance?—but she obeyed. The arrow returned to her quiver, though her hand stayed near it.
"I am Tarsem, elder of the Omaticaya clan," the man said. "You will come with us. You will be our guest—or our prisoner. That depends on you."
Kaelen nodded. What else could he do?
As they led him away from the Tree of Voices, deeper into the jungle, Seri fell into step beside him. She didn't look at him, but her voice was low and fierce.
"I know why you're here, dream-walker. I know what your people want. And I will be watching you. Every moment. If you betray us—if you bring the metal thunder to our home—I will put an arrow through your heart. Do you understand?"
Kaelen looked at her profile: the sharp line of her jaw, the set of her shoulders, the way the jungle light played across her skin.
"I understand," he said.
And he meant it.