The mist wrapped around Ravel's legs as he and Seris walked deeper into Stonebrush Woods. The air grew colder, but not in a way that felt natural. It felt purposeful, as though the forest wanted the temperature to drop. As though it wanted them alert, every sense sharpened.
Ravel kept his hand over the sphere. Its warmth pulsed steadily, not in urgency but in awareness. It felt like a quiet heartbeat resting below his own.
Seris slowed their pace. "We are entering the remembering part of the woods."
Ravel frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means stories stay alive here," Seris said. "Memories settle in the soil. Ancient things linger. Do not touch anything unless I tell you."
Ravel looked around. The trees had grown wider and taller. Their bark had deeper cracks, some filled with dark sap that glimmered in the dim light. The roots rose in thick arches, crossing the forest floor like old bridges.
"What kind of memories," Ravel asked.
"The kind that never died," Seris replied.
Ravel hugged his satchel closer.
They continued until the trees opened into a small clearing. The mist thinned just enough to reveal a broken circle of stones in the center. Moss covered the stones in patches, but the shapes remained sharp. Each stone had carvings on its face. Symbols. Lines. Spirals. Patterns Ravel had never seen in any book or taught in any classroom.
Seris stopped. "Do not step inside the circle."
Ravel froze mid-step. "Why?"
"Because the markings still hold power," she said. "Power that reacts to resonance. And you carry more resonance than anyone I have met."
Ravel eyed the stones. "Did the forest make this?"
"No," Seris said. "People did. Or something close to people. This circle is older than the empire. Older than the tribes. No one knows who built it."
Ravel felt the sphere warm more intensely. His fingers tingled.
Seris noticed and stepped in front of him. "Steady your breath."
"I am trying," Ravel whispered.
The sphere pulsed again.
The symbols on the nearest stone glowed faintly.
Ravel's eyes widened. "Seris."
"I see it," she said, her voice low and careful. "Try to calm the sphere."
"How am I supposed to do that," he whispered back.
"Focus your thoughts," Seris said. "Make them quiet. The sphere listens to you."
Ravel closed his eyes. He steadied his breaths, slow and deep. In. Out. He imagined pushing the warmth away from the stones and back into himself.
The sphere cooled slightly.
The glow on the stones faded back into stillness.
Ravel opened his eyes, heart pounding.
Seris nodded once. "Good. You are learning control."
He wiped sweat from his brow. "I do not feel in control."
"No one feels in control the first time a relic responds to them," Seris said. "But you handled it. That matters."
Ravel stared at the stone circle. "What is it for?"
"No one knows," she said. "Some believe it was a place where ancient travelers left echoes of their journeys. Others say it marks the site of a gate. But gates that old belong to stories, not history."
Ravel remembered the vision from the sphere. A gate of light. A figure waiting.
"Seris," he whispered, "what if it was a gate?"
She looked at him sharply. "Why would you think that?"
Ravel hesitated. He had told her about the vision in general terms but never in detail. The memory of the figure's silent voice still clung to him like a shadow.
"The sphere showed me something," he said slowly. "A structure made of light. A path. Someone waiting. It felt like a doorway."
Seris's expression changed. Not fear. Not doubt. Something colder. "You should have told me that sooner."
"I did not know what it meant."
She stepped closer. "Ravel, the woods respond to you because the sphere is older than anything in the empire's archives. If it is showing you a gate, then you are part of something that might predate everything built on this continent."
Ravel felt the weight of her words settle on him. "What does that make me?"
"Not chosen," Seris said. "Just caught in the pull of something ancient."
He exhaled shakily.
Seris pointed to a narrow path on the far side of the clearing. "We move. The historian will know more than either of us."
They crossed the clearing's edge carefully, avoiding every carved stone. The path ahead twisted between trees whose roots formed natural arches they had to duck beneath.
As they walked, Ravel noticed something strange. The air hummed faintly, like a low vibration deep under the earth. He stopped and pressed his palm to the soil. A soft tremor traveled through his skin.
"Seris," he called quietly. "The ground is humming."
Seris placed her hand beside his. Her eyes narrowed. "Not a burrower. This is different. This feels like memory stirring."
"You can feel memories in the soil?" Ravel asked.
"In places like this, yes," she said. "The forest remembers footsteps, battles, rituals. Anything tied to strong emotion or strong power."
Ravel pulled his hand back. "What is it remembering right now?"
Seris stood slowly. "Something large. Something recent."
Ravel felt the sphere tingle.
A sound drifted through the trees. A distant shuffle, slow and heavy.
Ravel's pulse quickened. "Seris."
She gripped his arm. "Do not panic."
The sound grew louder.
Soft at first.
Wet.
Dragging.
Ravel whispered, "That is not the owl guardian."
"No," Seris said. "It is not."
They stepped backward as the noise approached. Branches shook. Leaves fell in small showers. A shape moved between the trees. Ravel caught glimpses of something dark, something enormous, something almost hunched.
Then the mist parted.
And Ravel's stomach dropped.
A creature stepped into view.
Its skin hung in sheets, stretched over a skeletal frame. Its limbs were long and thin, bent at unnatural angles. Moss clung to its shoulders, dripping down like old cloth. Its head was a mass of twisted bark and bone, with hollow pits where eyes should have been.
The Forest Wretch.
A being of memory gone wrong.
Seris drew her sword.
"Stay behind me," she said, voice steady.
The creature let out a slow, rattling breath.
Ravel froze.
The sphere warmed.
The Wretch lifted its head. It sensed the heat.
Seris whispered without looking back.
"Do not let it touch you."