As the group made their way deeper into the grove, the forest seemed to hush around them. The trees, once twisted and wild, now grew into graceful spirals of bark and branch, curving with an elegance that felt deliberate. Light filtered through a canopy of teal and lavender colored leaves.

  Even the air changed, it was gently cooler now. The scent was rich with flowers, moss, and apple blossom, tinged with something older. The forest didn’t just welcome them. It recognized them.

  The path curved, then opened into a quiet clearing. Then, there it stood, nestled into the roots of the land like it had always belonged.

  The house was not grand. But it radiated peace.

  Natural. Effortless. Elegant.

  The kind of place that didn’t feel built so much as dreamt into being. Grown more than constructed. Its beams of pale wood curved gently into the earth, as though the house were part tree, part thought. Vines curled lazily around the frame, teal and lavender leaves, dotted with pale white flowers in full bloom.

  The windows were open, no glass, just warm light spilling out, and a quiet breeze passing through. It was the sort of home that trusted the forest around it.

  Birdsong trailed in from somewhere above. The vibrant blue streams trickled beside the house, steadily running from a cave mouth beyond the yard behind them.

  Reyha led them forward without a word, her expression unreadable. She then gently broke away to guide Xander toward a wide, fruit-heavy tree near the edge of the grove.

  It stood out among the other trees. While their bark shimmered faintly, almost iridescent in places, and leaves shifting like they were made of thin silk.

  This one was the only familiar looking tree in the grove. Dozens of plump red apples hung from its branches, glowing in the light.

  Xander’s ears perked. He made a sound between a snort and a delighted grunt, trotting forward. He reared up on his hind legs and picked the nearest apple with surprising gentleness. One bite, and his eyes lit up like a child’s. He let out a soft, satisfied huff, then flopped down beneath the tree with a quiet thud, munching contentedly.

  Reyha smiled at him, a knowing look in her eyes.

  Kaiya chuckled, “As promised dear.”

  Angel and Kaiya were already untying the ropes that had secured Dante. Kaiya's hands were careful, methodical, but her gaze kept drifting to the house.

  Inside, it was just as she remembered.

  And yet... smaller.

  The woodwork wasn’t just skilled. It was impossible. Smooth curves and angles that no saw could make. Grain that flowed like water, knots shaped like petals. Stone had been woven into it. Not inlaid, but grown into place.

  Moss filled the crevices between floorboards and walls, soft and green like purposefully placed rugs. Every breath she took smelled like old cedar, rain, and tea.

  This place hadn’t changed.

  Not even a little.

  Dante was laid carefully onto a couch that seemed carved, or grown, from a single massive root. Cushions grown of bark-laced fabric softened its surface. Soft glowing fungi lined the underside like fairy lights. He stirred slightly, face tight with pain, but didn’t wake.

  Kaiya turned slowly, eyes scanning the room. The ache in her chest built without warning. So much time had passed. So many other places, so many losses. And yet here, nothing felt gone. Not truly.

  Then she saw it.

  Tucked in the corner near a window, dusted with soft light, stood a small statue. It had not aged. Its wood still gleamed. Its stone base remained clean of moss.

  It showed Reyha kneeling beside a young bull. One hand resting between his horns. The other held a woven crown of flowers.

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  Kaiya blinked. Her heart jumped in her chest.

  Angel followed her gaze and tilted her head. “Is that.. Xander?”

  “So long ago…” Kaiya whispered. Her voice was fragile. Her hand came to rest over her heart.

  Angel stepped closer. “It’s beautiful.” She turned towards Reyha, “Did you make this?”

  Reyha’s voice came from the kitchenette, where she was busy preparing tea. “Some of it,” she said absently, before realizing what Angel had meant. She looked over her shoulder, caught sight of the statue, and smiled. “Oh. That? No, that was all her, my dear.”

  She nodded toward Kaiya. “As is a fair amount of this lovely home.”

  “So, you make sticks, and homes? And we slept on the ground.” Valerik grumbled. He found a corner stone wall and slid down. Closing his eyes to recover from the journey.

  Angel blinked, eyes bouncing between them and the statue. “Wait... is she your mom?”

  Kaiya laughed under her breath. A quiet, fond sound. “No,” she said, then looked at Reyha.

  Reyha met her gaze and tilted her head with that same warm smile. Her starry black eyes looked right through her.

  “…Well. Not really,” Kaiya said, softer now. “I was here for quite some time. Reyha was... is… wonderful to me.”

  “Kaiya arrived much like your friend, you know,” Reyha added gently. “Xander brought her here, for my help.”

  She turned back to the shelves and pulled down a row of handmade wooden cups. Each one was slightly different. Lopsided rims, smooth swirl textures, small carved marks along their bases.

  Kaiya gasped.

  “You still use those?”

  “Well of course, dear. You made them special,” Reyha said, smile deepening. “So many storms rolled by, these in our hands.”

  Kaiya stepped closer. Her fingers traced the rim of one cup, the carved spiral at its base. “We waited out a blizzard once, didn’t we?” she said softly. “Just drank tea. Talked about nothing. The whole world could’ve frozen and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “And you snored on the porch swing,” Reyha added with a grin.

  A small tear traced down Kaiya’s cheek before she could stop it. “I didn’t want to leave,” she whispered.

  “I never blamed you,” Reyha said, setting down the teapot. “You were needed. That’s what matters.”

  Kaiya closed her eyes. “I missed you.”

  “I’m glad you're back.”

  Behind them, Dante coughed.

  It was deeper this time. Not a stir, but a full-body wrench. Guttural, wet, wrong.

  Valerik spoke from where he sat, leaned against a carved stone wall. His voice was dry. “Oh yeah. Let’s not forget, the boy’s still dying.”

  The warmth cracked.

  They moved quickly, gathering around the couch. Reyha motioned them toward a doorway half-covered by trailing vines. It led out into the yard, towards the mouth of the small cave. It shimmered with soft, unnatural light.

  The air grew colder, damper.

  The cavern opened like the hollow heart of a gemstone. Stalagmites jutted from the floor in uneven spires, their tips catching light from the crystalline ceiling above. Amethyst spears glimmered beside cloudy quartz teeth, some sharp, some rounded with age. Moss clung in soft patches between the stones. The air smelled faintly of wet minerals and something sweeter, like rainwater left in a silver bowl.

  At the chamber’s center lay a still pool, its surface aglow with shifting blues and violets, the colors spilling from a jagged amethyst cluster hanging overhead. Water dripped from its facets in slow, deliberate drops, each one rippling the pool so the light wavered across the cavern walls like rain caught mid-fall.

  Reyha knelt beside the water. Her faded blue skin nearly matched the water's color. “Lower him in. Carefully.”

  Kaiya and Angel eased Dante toward the edge, their movements slow, controlled. Angel tried to ignore several water drops landing on her face and arms.

  As soon as his skin touched the glowing surface, a shiver ran through him. Then his body went slack. His breathing steadied. Faint color began to return to his cheeks, each pulse of it mirrored by the gentle rocking of the water, as though the pool itself held him.

  Reyha rested her palm lightly on the surface, eyes closing. “It’s working,” she murmured. “But it will take time.”

  For a moment, no one spoke. The slow drip from the crystals was the only sound, steady and hypnotic. Even Angel lingered, gaze flicking over Dante, her expression unreadable.

  Valerik followed them in, his steps steady at first. Halfway across the cavern he slowed, shoulders stiffening as if the colder air had settled deep into his bones. Xander padded after him, carrying an entire apple branch in his teeth, leaves brushing the ground.

  Angel’s mouth curved slightly. “Couldn’t spare the muscle? Leave the girls to do the lifting?”

  Valerik gave her only a faint glance before easing himself down against a wall. His hand came to rest lightly on his chest, fingers pressing there for a moment too long. His jaw tightened.

  “You are hurt too,” Angel said. Her tone had lost its playfulness.

  “I will live,” he replied. His gaze drifted across the cave until it found a shadowed gap in the far wall. The opening was narrow, half-hidden, its darkness untouched by the crystal light. “Deep cave.”

  “Very,” Reyha answered. Something in her voice made the single word feel heavier than it should. Her eyes lingered on him, the look was quiet but searching.

  Another drop fell onto Angel’s shoulder. She brushed it away, then frowned when another touched her cheek. Her eyes traced upward to the jagged crystal cluster above. For a heartbeat she seemed to weigh something in her mind.

  She glanced once more at Dante, her jaw tightening. “This place is too damp,” she muttered, and turned toward the tunnel. Her steps were brisk, more purposeful than annoyed, and within moments her figure was gone into the winding path beyond.

  The second she was gone, the light shifted.

  Dante’s body jolted upward, his back arching violently. A sudden splash echoed through the cavern. The crystals above flared with light. Reyha reached for him.

  A pulse of raw magic exploded from the pool, knocking her back.

  The walls trembled.

  The water surged, boiling with light. It wasn’t healing anymore. It was ripping. The magic had found something buried, and it was forcing it to the surface.

  Kaiya cried out.

  Valerik clutched his temples and dropped to one knee, growling through clenched teeth.

  Xander let out a panicked groan, staggering backward, ears twitching erratically.

  Then it hit them all.

  The memories.

  Shoved into their minds like knives, each one twisting.

  A cold stone room. Sterile. Lifeless. No sound except distant screams of anger and pain. Dante lay motionless. Eyes open. Staring.

  Needles sank into his arms, legs, chest. Runes glowed as they were burned into his skin. A scalpel dragged along his veins as voices mumbled behind thick glass.

  They asked questions. He shouldn't understand the language.

  But he did.

  He learned. Not from books, but from pain. Magic by way of punishment. Language by way of screaming.

  When it ended, there was nothing left but survival.

  The vision cracked.

  One by one, they collapsed.

  Kaiya clawed at the stone, gasping. Her hands trembled.

  Valerik had fallen onto both hands, blood dripping from one nostril.

  Xander curled against the wall, wide-eyed, silent, his apple forgotten beside him.

  Reyha stared at the pool in horror.

  Dante shot up.

  His body lurched from the water, gasping as if surfacing from drowning. His eyes were wild, black as pitch, filled with something wrong.

  “YOU SAID YOU would fix… me…”

  The voice wasn’t his.

  It was layered. Distorted. A dozen versions echoing in unison.

  Dark shapes writhed around him. Smoke without fire. Shadows without source. The air rippled. Stones shook and groaned.

  Reyha stumbled back. Even she was shaken.

  And then, in a blink, it ended.

  The pool's water calmed.

  The crystals dimmed.

  Dante sagged forward, supported by the water. His eyes blinked clear. The blackness gone.

  He looked around, dazed. “I… what… happened?”

  No one answered.

  From the cave mouth above, Angel’s voice rang out.

  “We’ve got another problem!”

  Valerik, still catching his breath, exhaled sharply. “But we have so many…”