The forest was quieter than usual the next morning—too quiet. Not serene, not peaceful. Quiet in the way a held breath is quiet. Quiet in the way eyes unseen follow from the dark. Aerin felt it immediately as she and Kael stepped onto the path leading toward the Willow Clearing.
The night's vision clung to her like morning fog. Every time she blinked, she saw flashes—the silver veil, her mother's silhouette, the moonlit lake, the key glowing like a captured star. The message had been simple and impossible all at once: Unlock the forgotten.
But unlock what? And where?
Kael walked beside her, unusually tense. His hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, though Aerin knew he didn't expect a physical threat. He was listening. Feeling. The whole forest had changed overnight, and even someone who didn't share her connection with it could sense it.
"You're sure this is where you saw the… vision?" he asked.
Aerin nodded. "Under the willow. The portal—if that's what it was—opened when I touched it."
"And you think it'll happen again?"
"I don't know. But something's pulling us back there."
Kael grunted. "I noticed."
As they approached the clearing, Aerin slowed. The willow stood as it always had—vast, ancient, draped in shadowed branches. Yet today, its bark shimmered faintly with threads of silver, like veins of moonlight running beneath the surface.
Aerin stepped closer.
The hum began instantly—subtle at first, a soft vibration under her fingertips, then stronger, rising like a pulse matching her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes, breathing through the sensation. It wasn't frightening. It felt almost comforting.
Then the ground shifted beneath her.
Kael grabbed her elbow. "Aerin!"
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her knees trembled. "It's… changing."
The willow's branches lifted, slow and deliberate, exposing a hollow knot in the trunk she had never seen before. It wasn't an opening—it was a marking. A shape carved into the wood. A circle intersected by a vertical line. The same symbol etched into her pendant.
Her breath caught.
"The pendant," she murmured. "It's reacting."
Kael stepped closer, worry tightening his jaw. "What does it want you to do?"
Before she could answer, the pendant flared with warm light. Not blinding—gentle, like someone cupping a flame between their hands. Aerin felt her heartbeat synchronize with its glow.
Then she saw it.
The key.
The same one from her vision—no longer made of light, but of old silver, materializing in the hollow of the tree.
Kael's eyes widened. "Aerin… that wasn't there before."
She reached out a trembling hand.
The moment her fingers brushed the key, the forest shuddered.
The ground rippled like water.
The leaves rustled violently.
The willow groaned—a deep, ancient sound that echoed through the clearing.
Kael pulled her back, but the moment he touched her, the willow unleashed a burst of shimmering wind—a sweeping circle of pale green light that knocked him several steps away but left Aerin untouched.
"Aerin!" He tried to push forward, but the light barricaded him, forming a barrier.
"It's okay!" she shouted, though fear clawed at her voice. "I'm fine!"
"You're not—Aerin, the forest is closing you in!"
The barrier grew brighter, forming a dome around her and the willow.
The key pulsed.
And suddenly, Aerin understood something she had always known but never acknowledged:
This wasn't a trap.
This was an invitation.
She stepped closer to the willow.
The tree's roots began shifting beneath the soil, twisting upward in slow, serpentine coils until they formed steps descending into the earth—a staircase of living wood leading into darkness.
Kael slammed his fists against the barrier. "Aerin! Don't you dare go down there alone!"
She looked at him through the shimmering wall. His panic burned in his eyes—panic she'd never seen in him before.
"I have to," she whispered.
"No, you don't! We'll find another way—we always do—"
"This is the way," she said softly. "And it's only opening for me."
Kael's breath hitched, fury and fear warring in his expression. "Don't leave me out here," he choked out.
Aerin pressed her palm against the barrier. Kael mirrored it.
"I'll come back," she said.
"You'd better," he whispered.
She offered a small, trembling smile—then turned toward the descending roots.
The moment she stepped onto the first living step, the key in her hand warmed. A soft light surrounded her, guiding her downward.
The roots sealed behind her.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
At first, there was nothing—only the sound of her footsteps echoing down the wooden staircase. But as she descended, faint shapes began to bloom in the dark. Symbols carved into the walls. Soft whispers drifting through the air. Her name spoken in voices she almost recognized.
She pressed a hand against the nearest root and felt memories surge beneath her touch—memories that were not hers. The forest's memories.
Images flashed:
A gathering of elders beneath the willow.
A woman with her mother's eyes kneeling at the roots.
A silver key passed from hand to hand.
A burst of light swallowing the clearing.
And then—darkness.
Aerin stumbled back, breath shaking.
"Mother…" she whispered. What role had she played here? What secret had she kept?
At the bottom of the staircase, the tunnel widened into a vast chamber carved entirely from roots and earth. In the center stood a stone pedestal—ancient, cracked, covered in moss.
A slot shaped exactly like her key shone faintly on its surface.
She approached, heart hammering.
The whispers grew louder—not frightening, but urgent.
Unlock the forgotten.
Aerin raised the key.
"Please," she whispered to the unseen presence in the chamber, "tell me what I'm about to remember."
Silence answered.
She slid the key into the stone.
Light erupted—brilliant, blinding, swallowing the entire chamber.
Aerin shielded her eyes, but the light pierced through her lids, flooding her with images, voices, memories she had never lived—and yet, somehow, always had.
Her own voice.
Her mother's.
Kael's.
And another voice—deep, ancient, the voice of the forest itself.
When the light faded, Aerin fell to her knees, gasping.
She remembered.
Everything.
And it changed everything.