The fox led me to a small clearing, at the center of which stood a moss-draped shrine.
Stone cracked and leaned. Vines crawled up its sides, thick with golden blossoms I didn’t recognize. The scent was warm, floral, and strange.
Behind the shrine, nestled in the dappled green, was a small cabin.
Its roofblossomedwith wild herbs and tiny white flowers, a vibrant contrast to the walls of weathered wood,furrowedby age andcarpetedin moss. Plants spilled from every windowsill withlong-stemmed blooms, curling ferns, and potted vegetables that looked recently tended.
A narrow footpath led around toward the back, where a garden bloomed in quiet defiance of the wild. Rows of medicinal herbs, flowering vines, even a gnarled fruit tree heavy with pale gold pears. It smelled of earth and rain and sun-warmed leaves.
It was a haven, a place so ancient its age was a physical comfort, a deep-rooted security felt to its roots. The weight of countless seasons settled there, a soothing blanket woven from centuries of quiet stillness.
And in front of it, standing calmly as if he’d always been there—
A man.
His presence was ageless, like river stone or old roots. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with hair the color of dark honey and a well-kept beard. Cloaked in faded green and brown, his clothing seemed a part of the forest itself. When he turned toward me, his pale eyes seemed to skim over me, not truly seeing, but perceiving something more profound, as if his vision didn't require the need to look.
Bran bounded up to him, wagging his tail. The man crouched with a soft laugh and scratched behind his ears as though he were greeting an old friend.
“Oh, you’re here!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he added, clapping his hands together, as if continuing a conversation we’d already started. A wave of paralysis swept through me, seizing my limbs and tightening my chest.
Light filtered in through the trees above in long, golden shafts, casting a radiant glow over the clearing. Bees hummed lazily among the flowers. The air here seemed softer, thicker, like something divine had kissed it. Peace spread through me like a slow, warming tide. Even Bran, usually so alert, rolled onto hisside near the shrine and let the man rub his belly, tongue lolling in delight.
I blinked, hesitant. My voice came out small. “Why aren’t they moving? My friends…what did you do to them?”
He glanced up with warmth in his eyes. “Nothing they won’t wake from. The grove holds time differently. Only those who are called move forward.”
“Called by what? By whom?”
His smile deepened, and for a moment, he looked impossibly old. “Secrets, my dear! Besides, you already know. Deep down. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
He reached beside him and plucked a sprig of golden root from a bundle. “Here, this is for you.” He held it out for me, his gaze fixed on a point just past my shoulder. “It’s out of fear. You carry too much of it in your ribs.”
With my breath hitched, a silent battle raged within as my body was forced to move forward. I stepped closer, my legs felt like water, but they slowly moved one foot in front of the other. The tremors began in the hands, a visible quake as I reached for his offering. The sprig settled into my palm, radiating an unexpected warmth that seemed to steady the tremor in my fingers.
The fox let out a slight sound, a sharp, pained yip, and I turned to see it limping slightly, favoring its paw. Instinct took over. I knelt, drawing it close. It didn’t fight me.
A thorn had snagged the foot.
I worked gently, humming under my breath. My fingers moved almost of their own accord, pulling herbs from my pouch and wrapping a bit of linen. The fox licked my wrist once as I’d finished, then bounded off toward its friend.
“You do not need a flame to burn,” the man said.
My gaze lifted. His pale eyes fixedon mine, his attention unwavering
“Gentleness,” he murmured, “can be the sharpest blade.”
I swallowed hard.
“The flame within you will not burn,” he added, “until you believe it won’t destroy.”
Somethingfracturedopen in my chest, a truth too raw to accept acknowledgment.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“You must get back to your friends.” He smiled faintly, avoiding my question.
Still in shock and unsure what to do, I turned to go. He reached out and brushed the back of his hand across my arm.
