Seris led Ravel toward the far edge of the clearing. The trail beyond was darker than the one they had followed before. Trees arched over it, their branches woven together like the ribs of an ancient beast. The soil was softer, too soft for Ravel's liking, and his boots sank a little with each step. A faint smell of sap and something metallic drifted on the air.
Seris kept her sword drawn. The blade reflected pale streaks of light that slipped through gaps in the branches above. "The forest is no longer watching," she said. "Now it is guiding."
Ravel lowered his voice to a whisper. "Guiding toward what? The enemy?"
"Something older than any enemy you could name," Seris said. "But not necessarily harmful."
Ravel held the sphere close. It was warm but no longer burning. The steady pulse felt like the beat of a calm heart. He tried to match his breathing to it. It helped only a little.
"How long before something else attacks us?" Ravel asked.
"That depends on how quickly you learn to understand the sphere."
"That does not tell me anything."
"It tells you everything," Seris said. Her tone softened slightly. "The sphere is awake now. Everything in these woods feels its presence. But the creatures that came before only reacted. They did not act with purpose."
"And what is coming next will?"
"Yes."
Ravel wished she had lied.
They stepped over a fallen trunk that had split down the middle. The exposed wood gleamed white, almost bone-like. Carved into the core of the trunk were markings that spiraled outward in long lines.
Ravel knelt to inspect them. "These look like the patterns on the stone pillar."
Seris nodded. "The forest repeats what it remembers. Patterns echo. Signatures return."
"Then what does this pattern mean?"
Seris studied it for a moment. "A warning. This was not a natural fall. Something tore this tree open."
Ravel stood quickly. "Recently?"
"Not long ago."
The path dipped downward. Ravel followed Seris into a narrow passage flanked by two massive roots that rose higher than their heads. The shapes twisted like the jaws of a giant creature frozen in the act of biting. The passage narrowed further until they had to move sideways to get through.
The sphere pulsed again.
A low whisper brushed against Ravel's thoughts.
Closer.
Ravel flinched. "Seris. The sphere spoke again."
"What did it say?"
"Just one word." He swallowed. "Closer."
Seris scanned the shadows ahead. "It is pointing us toward a specific place."
"I do not like where this is going."
"You do not have to like it. You only have to keep walking."
The passage widened abruptly. They stepped into a long hollow formed by gigantic trees leaning against one another. The space was dim and filled with a constant dripping sound from the branches above. At the far end of the hollow, a faint light glimmered. It was soft, almost silver, and shimmered with the slow movement of water.
Seris stopped. "There is a pool ahead."
Ravel blinked. "A pool?"
"Yes. It is called a memory basin."
"That sounds ominous."
"It is a place where water stores the reflection of the forest's past. I did not think any were still active."
The light ahead flickered again. Ravel felt something inside the sphere respond, a sense of longing that did not belong to him.
They approached carefully. The hollow opened into a circular space half filled with a pool of still water. The surface reflected the trees above as if painted by a hand with perfect focus. The water had no ripples, despite drops falling from the branches.
Ravel stepped closer. The air above the pool felt colder.
Seris touched his arm lightly. "Do not lean too close. The water does not reflect the present. If you fall in, you fall into whatever memory is strongest."
Ravel shivered. "How is that even possible?"
"Old magic," Seris said. "Older than the Sentinels. Older than the guardians. The forest remembers everything. This is how it shows us its oldest wounds."
The pool brightened.
A soft glow spread through the water, like dawn rising beneath the surface. Ravel felt the sphere pulse with the same rhythm.
The glow shaped itself into faint outlines.
Figures.
Not human.
Tall shapes with long limbs and smooth faces. They moved through a meadow that no longer existed. Their hands held objects that glowed with the same red light as the sphere.
Ravel stepped closer without meaning to. "Those are not people."
"No," Seris said quietly. "They are the First Makers. The ones who created the spheres."
Ravel stared at the scene. The figures placed their glowing artifacts on stone pedestals arranged in a circle. Light rose from each orb and intertwined in the air, weaving itself into a single pillar of energy.
"What are they doing?" Ravel asked.
Seris watched with unease. "It looks like a binding ritual."
The image shifted suddenly. The meadow darkened. The sky cracked with lines of black. The shadows twisted into shapes with many arms and hollow faces. The First Makers stumbled and fell back as the shadows poured into their circle.
Ravel gripped the edge of his cloak. His breath caught.
The pool rippled.
A scream echoed from the water, muffled but clear.
Ravel staggered away. "That sound. Was that them?"
"Yes," Seris said. "The First Makers were overwhelmed. Something broke their ritual."
The figures in the pool scattered. Some fled. Others were pulled into the shadows. The central orb in the image glowed brighter than the others. A crack formed in its surface.
Red light burst out.
The forest around the meadow tore apart. Trees bent backward. The earth split.
Then the image froze.
The sphere in Ravel's hands pulsed again, more forcefully than before.
The final image in the water was a single First Maker, wounded, running through the forest with an orb pressed to their chest.
Seris breathed out slowly. "That one survived long enough to hide the sphere. Your sphere."
Ravel swallowed hard. "The sphere remembers that?"
"Yes. And the Sentinel helped awaken that memory."
Ravel stared at the pool. The water grew still again, returning to its perfect reflection.
"So if the sphere was part of that ritual," he said quietly, "then whatever broke the ritual is still out there."
Seris nodded. "And it will know the sphere is active again."
The thought made Ravel's stomach twist.
A low rumble rolled through the hollow. Not from the pool. Not from the roots.
From the path behind them.
Seris tightened her grip on her sword. "Something followed us."
Ravel turned slowly.
A pair of tall, shadowed shapes stepped into view, slender and silent.
Not Shades.
Not Wretches.
Something new.
Seris whispered, "This is why the forest guided us here. It wanted us to see the memory before the next danger arrived."
Ravel held the sphere tightly.
The shadows moved closer.
And the forest waited to see whether the memory it had shown them would help keep them alive.