The forest felt different now.
As Elara and the fox walked beneath the violet canopy, the trees seemed to lean toward her, their leaves rustling in a rhythm that matched her breath. Flowers she didn’t recognize unfurled as she passed, glowing softly as if greeting her.
“The forest is… reacting,” she murmured.
“It knows you,” the fox replied. “Or rather, it remembers you.”
Elara frowned. “How can it remember me if I’ve never been here?”
The fox didn’t answer. It only watched her with those silver eyes that always seemed to know more than they said.
A soft sound drifted through the air. It was faint, distant, almost like a melody played on a flute carved from bone. The same melody she’d glimpsed in the Echo.
Elara stopped. “Do you hear that?”
The fox’s ears twitched. “Yes. And we should be cautious.”
But the melody wasn’t frightening. It felt familiar, like a lullaby she’d forgotten she knew. She stepped forward, and the forest shifted. Trees moved aside, branches curling upward, revealing a narrow path that hadn’t existed a moment before.
“Elara,” the fox warned.
“I think it wants me to follow.”
The path glowed faintly, lit by tiny lantern‑flowers blooming along its edges. The melody grew clearer, threading through the air like a beckoning hand.
Elara took a breath. “Is this… one of the Echo’s fragments?”
“Perhaps.”
The forest held its breath again, just as it had at the pool. Elara stepped onto the new path.
And somewhere deeper in Lanternreach, the melody faltered. As if whoever played it had just realized she was coming.
