The forest behind the Ainsworth mansion was ancient.
Not in the obvious sense—large trees, thick roots, high canopies—but in something deeper, almost invisible. The air there seemed to carry memory. Each of Kael's steps on the leaf-covered ground produced a muffled sound, as if the very ground absorbed his presence in respectful silence.
He walked slowly.
There was no escort. No weapons drawn. Only him, his body still adjusting to a force that seemed greater than before, and his heart carrying an expectation he pretended not to nurture too much.
The clearing appeared naturally, as if the forest had decided to open it for him.
An almost perfect circle, bathed in a soft light that filtered through the high canopies. In the center, the ground was clean, covered in short, living grass, pulsing with a tranquil energy. There were no showy flowers, no visible ancient symbols. Yet, Kael felt—this was a point where the roots of the world intersected.
He stopped.
He took a deep breath.
