The journey to the Gangwon-do Mountains was meditatively silent. Do-hyun had insisted on going alone, as Ligeia had asked. Soo-ah and Min-ho would watch his rear at a distance, ready to intervene in case of blatant betrayal, but the instruction was clear: only interfere if his life was in immediate danger.
The forest was exactly what its name suggested: a dense expanse of old trees with smooth, silvery bark, reflecting the dim light of twilight like tarnished mirrors. The air was still, without birdsong or insect rustling. Only the squeal of his footsteps on a carpet of pine needles broke the silence. A low mist snaked between the trunks, distorting the perspectives, creating illusions of movement on the periphery of his vision.
Do-hyun was advancing slowly, all his senses alert. The sense of the filament, activated at its lowest level, revealed no abnormal energetic connection. Only the weak and ancient network of the forest itself, a slow exchange of plant life. Even the connection with the Tree seemed stifled, as if attenuated by the place.
He reached the exact coordinates: a small, perfectly circular clearing, where the grass was strangely bright green. In the center, a single flat rock, polished by time, was waiting.
"You're punctual. A quality that is being lost."
Ligeia's voice seemed to be born from the mist itself. She appeared sitting on the rock, not materializing, but as if she had always been there, just invisible until that moment. She wore the same gray dress, her porcelain face impassive, her silver eyes peering into Do-hyun with renewed curiosity.
"You have left a curious bait," she said, with a slight smile playing on her lips. "He who wants to no longer be a key." An interesting ambition, for a being created to be precisely that."
"I don't want to be used," Do-hyun replied, remaining at a respectful distance. "Neither I nor the Tree."
"Everything is used, Heir. The stone is used by the river to be polished. The tree is used by the wind to disperse its seeds. The question is not so, but by whom, and why." She bowed her head. "You saw the Eye. You felt his... absence of passion. It's a probe. A measuring tool of a much older will, asleep beyond the Veil that the Guardian is patrolling."
"What kind of will?"
"The will of a world that refused to die." His words fell into the silence of the clearing, charged with a millennial weight. "There are narratives, older than your civilizations, of an age when magic and reality were not distinct. Where beings of pure consciousness, pure energy, shaped mountains and seas like an artist kneads clay. Then... something happened. A cataclysm. A division. The Guardian and his ilk imposed laws, separated plans, created the Veil to contain the most dangerous debris of this ancient world."
She made an elegant wave of her hand. "The Eye belongs to one of these debris. An old, mutilated consciousness, trapped on the other side. She dreams of regaining her power. She's looking for a flaw. And your parents' creation, the Phoenix, is such a unique vibration, a concentration of creative energy so pure... that it could shake the bars of its cage."
Do-hyun felt a shiver running through him. "Then the Dream Eaters..."
..."are the guardians of the Veil. The garbage collectors. Their mission is to erase any anomaly that might weaken it. For them, your tree is not a hope. It's a flaw in the foundation of the world. A nascent crack."
Everything made sense. A cosmic cold war between order guards (the Guardian, the Devourers) and prisoners seeking to escape (the entity behind the Eye). And the Phoenix, without knowing it, had found itself in the center.
How do you stop this? How to become... unusable?"
Ligeia rose, sliding from the rock without a sound. She approached, her scent of ancient stone and faded roses becoming stronger.
A key works because it is unique, precise, distinct from the lock. To stop being a key, you have to stop being distinct." She put a cold finger on her forehead. Do-hyun did not flinch. "Your fusion with the Tree is a start. But it's a fusion of convenience. To survive. You need a fusion of gasoline. You must let the Tree change you, as much as you change it. Accept that your humanity is diluted in the patience of the tree, that your anger is transformed into the quiet strength of the roots."
"I don't want to lose my humanity," Do-hyun objected, stepping back.
"You won't lose her. You'll widen her." Her silver eyes seemed to see through him. "Look."
She waved her hand, and the mist around them became denser, forming fleeting images. He saw himself, not as a human, but as a being of light and bark, his feet rooted in the ground, his branches rising to the sky, fruits of light hanging from his limbs. Then the image changed: he was human again, but his eyes shone with a peaceful golden light, and around him the air vibrated with stability, as if reality itself consolidated in his presence.
The Balancer will teach you the "How." I'm showing you the "why" and the "what." The path is perilous. If you go too far, you will become a forest spirit, lost to your world. If you don't go far enough, you will remain a shining key, coveted by all the forces of the shadows."
"Why help me?" asked Do-hyun, suspiciously. "You collect stories. Our failure or transformation would be just as interesting for you."
A real smile, tinged with infinite weariness, touched Ligeia's lips. "Because I saw too many worlds burning because of misused keys. The story of destruction becomes repetitive, boring. But the story of a key that turns into a bridge... I've never seen it before. I'm curious to see how it ends."
She stepped back, beginning to melt back into the mist again. Tell him that the "Symphony of the Root Soul" is what you're looking for. He will understand. And be careful, heir. Devourers aren't the only ones watching for cracks. Other probes than the Eye might already be at work. More... subtle forces."
Before he could ask another question, she had disappeared, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering scent of dried roses.
Do-hyun stayed for a long time in the clearing, digesting the revelations. The game was larger, older than he had imagined. He was not at the center of a war, but of a story of prisoners and guards, where his existence was a potentially cataclysmic accident.
He touched the connection with the Tree, distant but real. A key that turns into a bridge. The image resonated with him. He no longer wanted to be a tool of destruction or a lever for ancient beings. He wanted to be a link. Between humanity and something bigger. Between the present and a stable future.
Leaving the Mirror Forest, the feeling of suffocation disappeared. The connection with the Tree came back, stronger, clearer, as if the forest had been an isolation chamber. He felt a pulse of welcome, a silent question.
I'm going back, he thought towards the Tree. And we have a lot to do.
The return to civilization was marked by a new determination. He had a name for what he had to do: the "Symphony of the Root Soul." And he had a teacher: the Balancer.
But as he approached the meeting point with Soo-ah and Min-ho, his still-active sense of the Filament perceived something strange. A tenuous filament, deep, unhealthy emerald green, that did not belong to any network he knew. He didn't connect to anything, but he watched, sneaking up next to him like a discreet vine. It wasn't purple. It was different.
Other probes, Ligeia had said. More subtle.
The road to transformation had just become more complicated. Not only did he have to change, but he had to do so under the gaze of unknown observers, with impenetrable intentions.
The symphony was going to have to be played on a much larger, and much more dangerous, stage than he had anticipated.