The path ahead narrowed into a long corridor of leaning trees. Their trunks bent inward until their branches touched, forming a vaulted tunnel that let in only thin slivers of light. The air inside felt thicker, almost heavy enough to press against Ravel's chest. He heard no birds, no insects, not even the faint drip of water from the hollow behind them. Every sound had been swallowed by the forest.
Seris stepped first, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Stay close. This part of the forest reacts to intent. If you hesitate, the path will change."
Ravel forced his breathing to steady and followed. "Why would a path react to thought?"
"Because this forest is not only alive. It is aware. Not in the way a creature thinks, but in the way an ocean shifts its waves depending on what stirs it."
Ravel frowned. "That does not make me feel better."
"Good. Fear keeps you alert."
The corridor grew darker as they walked. The roots underfoot intertwined like woven ropes. Occasionally Ravel felt one shift under his boot, as if adjusting its position. He stepped faster after each movement.
A faint hum rose from the soil.
Ravel stiffened. "Another Sentinel?"
"No," Seris said. "Not this time."
The hum grew stronger. Then softer. Then stronger again. It was not an approach. It was a heartbeat.
The sphere matched the rhythm.
Ravel felt the vibration run up his arm. "It is connecting to something."
"It is remembering something," Seris said. "Keep moving. Do not let the path close."
They pressed forward. The corridor tightened. Branches brushed their shoulders. Ravel ducked under a low knot of vines. Seris stepped over a twisting root that lifted itself out of the ground like a hand.
At last the corridor opened into a round chamber of interlocking branches and roots. Light filtered in through cracks in the ceiling. The floor was covered in soft moss. It felt like stepping into a room built by the forest itself.
Ravel stopped cold.
In the center of the chamber lay a massive tree stump wider than a cottage. Its surface was smooth, polished, almost glass-like. Strange symbols spiraled across it. Some glowed faintly.
Seris lowered her voice. "A Heartforge."
Ravel looked at her. "What is that?"
"One of the places where the First Makers shaped their artifacts. They used living trees as anchors. Entire groves were built around these forges."
Ravel approached the stump slowly. The symbols pulsed gently, like breath. "Can we use it?"
"Not without drawing attention. Anything built here is tied to the forest's memory network. That means an object shaped here becomes part of the forest. And the forest becomes part of it."
"So what happens if the sphere touches it?"
Seris hesitated. "I do not know."
The uncertainty in her voice worried Ravel more than any creature so far.
He walked closer. The surface of the Heartforge reflected his face faintly, distorted by the spiraling lines. The symbols brightened when he reached out a hand. Not touching, just hovering.
The sphere warmed inside his cloak.
A faint vibration spread through the chamber.
Seris stepped forward sharply. "Ravel. Stop."
But the stump reacted first.
A thin vertical slit opened in the surface, as if the tree had grown eyelids and decided to peel them apart. Soft red light shone from within.
Ravel stumbled back. "That is not normal, right?"
"No. The forge is responding to the sphere. That should not be possible unless the sphere carries a Maker's imprint."
The slit widened until a small hollow was visible inside. The red light pulsed like a heartbeat.
Ravel felt the sphere pulse in perfect rhythm.
Seris took a slow step forward. Her voice lost its usual steady command, replaced by something closer to awe. "It is inviting you."
Ravel shook his head. "That seems reckless."
"It is worse than reckless. It is dangerous. But every part of this forest has been pushing you forward. The pool, the Sentinel, the Watchers. All of it is leading you to something."
Ravel stared at the glowing hollow. "So I place the sphere inside and hope it does not explode?"
"Not exactly. The forge does not use force. It reads. If you put the sphere inside, the forge will read its memory."
"And if the sphere does not want to be read?"
"It will react," Seris said. "One way or another."
Ravel closed his eyes for a moment. The only sound in the chamber was the soft hum from the stump. When he opened them again, he reached into his cloak and held the sphere in both hands.
Its warmth intensified. The red core glowed brighter than before.
Seris watched carefully. "Be steady. If anything feels wrong, pull back."
Ravel nodded. He stepped up to the Heartforge and lifted the sphere over the glowing hollow.
Immediately the sphere vibrated.
A whisper brushed against his thoughts.
Return.
Ravel flinched. The word hit him like a memory, not his own.
The hollow inside the stump brightened.
Seris placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now."
Ravel lowered the sphere into the hollow.
The moment it touched the inner surface, the chamber shook.
Not violently. But deeply. As if something ancient had just inhaled after a very long sleep.
Light raced along the carved symbols. The stump filled with a steady red glow that pulsed in perfect time with the sphere. Ravel stepped back, shielding his eyes.
The chamber shifted. Roots moved along the walls like living veins. The ceiling creaked.
Then a voice filled the room.
Not a spoken voice.
Not a human voice.
A memory voice, carried through the forge and into the roots themselves.
You are late.
Ravel's heart nearly stopped. "Seris. You heard that."
"Yes," she whispered. "But I do not think it was speaking to us. I think it was speaking to whoever last held the sphere."
The light faded slightly.
The voice spoke again.
The ritual failed. The circle broke. The shadows are moving. You must run. If the other spheres fall, all falls with them. Hide the last spark. Hide it where the forest will keep it safe. Do not look back.
The chamber trembled and the symbols dimmed.
Another memory surfaced, sharper than the first.
If you live, seek the Weeping Crown. The truth sleeps beneath it. The spheres will call to one another. And when the last one wakes, the path will open again.
Silence swallowed the chamber. The light inside the stump dimmed to a faint glow.
Ravel stood frozen. The words churned in his mind.
The Weeping Crown.
The last spark.
The ritual.
Seris walked to the stump and looked into the hollow. "The forge has finished. You can take the sphere back."
Ravel reached in. The sphere was warm but steady. When he lifted it out, the slit in the stump closed slowly until the Heartforge returned to its seamless state.
He held the sphere against his chest. It pulsed once.
Seris turned to him. "We need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because whatever forced the First Makers to flee will feel the forge's awakening. And it will come looking."
Ravel swallowed hard. "So where do we go?"
Seris nodded toward a narrow opening on the far side of the chamber. The roots there had already begun to pull apart, forming a new path.
"To the place mentioned in the memory," she said. "The Weeping Crown."
Ravel tightened his grip on the sphere.
"Then we move."
They stepped into the new opening.
And the Heartforge behind them trembled once, as if warning that time was no longer on their side.