Inside Quinlan's soul realm, the air was still.
The land spread out in gentle rises and shallow clearings, grass soft underfoot, the sky fixed in a quiet, pale glow. At its heart stood a single tree, small compared to Rosie's much vaster domain, its trunk smooth and pale, its leaves faintly luminous. Roots curled protectively around the ground beneath it, forming a natural seat where a small figure waited.
Mimi stood there, blue skin bright against the muted greens, hands clasped in front of her chest. The other girls had gathered around without prompting, forming a loose circle, intending to chat the time away until Quinlan called for them.
Serika hovered at the edge. For a long moment, she only watched. Mimi tilted her head, large eyes tracking her with open curiosity, and still no sign of recognition from their long past.
She was, after all, the dryad born from Serika's dead sister's soul.
Serika took a breath and stepped forward.
