The forest felt different the morning after the attack—too still, too watchful, as if every branch and shadow had become an eye. Elara woke to the faint warmth of dawn spreading through the canopy, but instead of comfort, a thin thread of unease wrapped around her chest. Riven wasn't beside her.
Not again.
She rose quickly, brushing leaves from her clothes. Her shoulder still ached where Echo's spear had nearly grazed her, and the phantom sting reminded her that danger was not a memory but a promise.
"Elara?" A familiar voice called softly.
Eli stepped between the trees, carrying two bundles of berries and a strip of dried meat. His expression shifted when he saw her empty surroundings. "Riven's scouting again?"
"Probably," she answered, though her voice lacked confidence. "He didn't wake me."
Eli's jaw tightened in a way she knew too well—a mix of worry and resentment he tried to hide.
"He should've told you," Eli muttered.
Elara looked at him sharply. "Riven protects us. Don't start."
Eli exhaled, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'm not starting anything. I just think… he's pushing himself too hard."
She knew that much was true. Riven had barely slept since the fight with Echo. Every rustle, every strange shift in the forest's energy put him on edge. Elara could feel the tension in him the way she felt heat—instinctive, unavoidable.
Before she could reply, the ground beneath them trembled, subtle but unmistakable. Leaves shivered, and a low hum resonated in the air like a distant growl.
Eli straightened. "That… isn't normal."
"No," Elara whispered. "It's him."
Riven emerged between the trees, breath sharp, steps urgent. His hair was damp with sweat, his arm scraped and bleeding.
"Both of you—pack your things. Now."
Elara ran to him. "Riven, what happened?"
He didn't answer immediately. His chest rose and fell as though he had run for miles. Finally, he met her eyes, and the raw fear inside them stole her breath.
"It's the forest," he said quietly. "It's waking."
Eli frowned. "It's already alive—"
"No." Riven's voice deepened, older, touched with something ancient. "Not alive. Remembering."
A chill rippled down Elara's spine.
Riven motioned toward the path he'd come from. "The river shifted course overnight. Trees that were dead last week have bloomed. And…" He hesitated before finishing. "I saw shadows moving beneath the soil."
Eli blanched. "Shadows under the—"
"Yes." Riven's tone was clipped. "This isn't a natural change. The forest is responding to something. Or someone."
Elara swallowed hard, the truth settling over her like frost. "Me."
Riven didn't deny it.
"Ever since you awakened that power," he said, "the balance has been shaking. The forest recognizes you, Elara. And some parts of it…" He glanced toward the shifting trees. "Aren't happy."
Before she could answer, another tremor rolled through the earth, stronger this time. Bark cracked on nearby trunks, and vines tightened around branches like fists.
Elara felt something tug at her mind—an echo of a voice not fully formed, ancient and heavy.
Come back…
Come back to the roots…
"Elara?" Riven grabbed her shoulders. "Stay with me."
Her vision flickered. She blinked rapidly until the forest snapped back into solid color.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"You're not." Riven's grip tightened. "The forest is calling you. And calls like that never stop on their own."
Eli looked between them. "So what do we do?"
Riven stepped back, jaw set. "We go to the Heartwood."
The color drained from Eli's face. "The Heartwood? You can't be serious. That place is a death trap. Even your people don't go near it."
Riven's eyes were shadowed with something close to dread. "That's because we know what sleeps there."
Elara's pulse hammered. "Why the Heartwood?"
"Because that voice that pulled you?" Riven said. "It comes from there."
They moved quickly, packing their belongings. Riven tore a cloth to bind his arm, shrugging off Elara's worry, though she noticed his hands trembled slightly—the only sign of how afraid he truly was.
The deeper they walked, the stranger the forest became.
The air thickened, heavy with scents of moss and something metallic. Leaves glowed faintly, pulsing like heartbeats. The trees leaned inward, their trunks twisted, as if they had turned to watch the three travelers pass.
Eli muttered, "I hate this. I really, really hate this."
Riven said nothing.
Elara felt the whispering again—soft, wordless, brushing along her thoughts like cold fingers. It didn't feel evil, exactly. But it felt hungry.
"Riven?" she whispered.
He turned just enough to hear her.
"What if the forest doesn't want to hurt me?" she asked. "What if it's trying to guide me?"
He stopped walking entirely.
"Elara," he said slowly, "the forest doesn't guide. It takes. It chooses vessels. It chooses sacrifices."
Eli stiffened. "Sacrifices? Riven—"
"No sugarcoating," Riven snapped. "If we're going to the Heartwood, Elara deserves the truth."
He faced her fully, his eyes fierce, desperate.
"My people were not born in the forest," he said. "We were made by it. Shaped by it. Bound to it. Every generation, the Heartwood calls someone new. Someone with power. Someone who can change the world." His voice grew softer. "But the forest rarely gives without taking something back."
Elara's breath hitched. "You think it wants to take me?"
Riven stepped closer, eyes burning with something raw. "I will not let it."
Eli stood back, torn between fear and helplessness.
Another tremor shook the trees, harsher than before. Leaves exploded into the air. The path they had just walked twisted behind them, curling into a new shape as if the forest erased their footsteps.
Elara gasped. "It's closing the way back."
"No," Riven corrected. "It's pushing us forward."
She swallowed. "To the Heartwood."
"To the truth," he said.
They resumed walking, and the forest seemed to breathe around them, every movement a warning, every whisper a promise.
Finally, as the sun dipped low, they reached the edge of a clearing.
At the center stood a colossal tree—ancient, towering, its bark etched with glowing veins like molten gold. Roots spiraled outward, cracking the earth. The air vibrated with energy so powerful Elara felt her bones hum.
Eli whispered, "That's it. The Heartwood."
Riven's voice was barely audible. "We're here."
Elara stepped forward, unable to stop herself. The tree called to her—not with words, but with recognition.
As if it had been waiting.
And when her foot crossed the boundary of the clearing, the Heartwood lit up—every line, every vein—blazing with light.
Riven lunged to grab her, but the ground split between them, forcing him back.
"Elara!"
She turned as the forest flared, energy spiraling around her like a storm of living light.
And then a voice—clear, ancient, real—spoke inside her mind:
"Child of the lost lineage… return what was taken."
Elara froze.
Riven's eyes widened in horror.
Eli stumbled backward, shaking.
The Heartwood had awakened.
And it knew her name.