The moon hung low, swollen and pale, its light spilling like liquid silver through the tangled canopy. Aerin's breath clouded in the cool air as she stepped into the clearing. The willow waited for her—ancient and immense, its drooping branches trailing across the forest floor like the ends of an unspoken secret.
She could feel the pull before she even reached it. The hum. That strange vibration that began in the soles of her feet and traveled up through her bones, steady as a heartbeat. It had been calling to her for nights now, slipping into her dreams, luring her back here despite every warning in her mind.
Now, standing before it, she could no longer tell whether the call belonged to the forest or to something deeper inside her.
"Why?" she whispered, pressing her palm against the bark. It was warm—almost too warm. "Why do you keep calling me here?"
The air shivered. The willow's branches stirred, though no wind moved through the clearing. Aerin's breath caught. The shadows thickened, curling around her feet like smoke. And then—so faint she almost thought she imagined it—came a voice.
Aerin…
Her name, carried on a sigh.
She turned sharply, scanning the darkness. "Who's there?"
Silence. Then, faintly, from somewhere above her—music. Not the kind played by human hands, but a melody that vibrated through the leaves and into her chest. It was familiar. Too familiar. The lullaby her mother used to hum on stormy nights when the wind howled against their windows.
Her heart clenched.
"Mother?"
The hum deepened, and the branches of the willow began to twist together, forming an arch of woven wood and light. Aerin hesitated. Every instinct screamed for her to run. But something stronger—curiosity, longing—pushed her forward.
She stepped through.
The world shifted.
The air thickened, luminous and cold. The forest vanished, replaced by an endless lake under a night sky that shimmered like spilled ink and stars. The moon hung twice as large here, its reflection rippling across the still water.
And on the far shore stood a woman.
Aerin knew her instantly, even though the figure's face was hidden beneath a veil of silver light. She didn't need to see her eyes to recognize her. The way she held herself, the way her presence seemed to hum with quiet strength—it was her mother.
Tears stung her eyes. "Mother!" she cried, running forward. But her steps slowed as she reached the water's edge. The lake's surface glowed faintly, a barrier she could feel pulsing against her skin.
"Please," she whispered. "Tell me what's happening. Why can't I remember everything?"
The woman lifted her hand. In her palm was a small, shimmering key, glowing as though forged from moonlight.
"Unlock the forgotten," the voice said—not spoken aloud, but inside Aerin's mind.
"The forgotten what?" she pleaded.
The reflection of the moon fractured across the water. For a heartbeat, the woman's face flickered—and Aerin saw her own reflection instead, older, her eyes hollow, her smile broken.
Then the vision shattered.
She stumbled backward into the grass, gasping. The air around her snapped like a storm breaking apart. When she opened her eyes, she was back beneath the willow. Dawn's first light was bleeding into the horizon, and the branches above her were still trembling.
Her pendant, the one she'd found weeks ago, throbbed with faint warmth against her collarbone.
"What was that?" she whispered, clutching it. "What are you trying to show me?"
No answer. Only the rustle of leaves, soft and mournful.
Aerin sat there until the first birds began to sing. The forest felt different now—more awake, more aware. She could feel it watching her, breathing with her. And beneath it all, a truth she couldn't yet name.
When she finally returned to the village, the streets were quiet. Mist still clung to the rooftops, and the scent of dew hung in the air. She crossed the bridge that separated the forest from the first cottages, and that's when she saw him.
Kael.
He was leaning against her door, his cloak damp with morning fog, his eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. When he saw her, his expression flickered between relief and frustration.
"You disappeared again," he said, his voice low but sharp. "Do you have any idea how worried I—"
"I had to go," Aerin interrupted, her own voice trembling but steady. "The willow… it showed me something."
Kael frowned. "It?"
"Yes." Her eyes met his, shining with a mix of fear and wonder. "I saw her. My mother. She spoke to me—or maybe not spoke, but… she reached me. And she gave me a message."
He crossed his arms. "A message from a tree?"
Aerin stepped closer. "From the forest. Don't you feel it too, Kael? Like it's trying to tell us something? Like it's been waiting?"
He looked away, jaw tightening. "You sound like the elders. They said things like that before they vanished."
"Maybe they vanished because no one listened."
That silenced him. The two stood there for a long moment, the morning wind carrying the scent of wet leaves and earth between them.
Finally, Kael exhaled. "Alright," he said. "If you're right, then we find out what it wants. But not alone."
Aerin smiled faintly. "Together, then."
As they stood beneath the rising sun, the pendant around her neck shimmered faintly, catching the light. In the distance, the forest swayed—not menacingly, but as though nodding in agreement.
And from somewhere deep within its shadows, something old and unseen stirred awake.
Aerin felt it—like a second heartbeat, ancient and waiting.
Whatever the truth was, it was buried beneath those roots. And the forest had finally decided she was ready to find it.