I flinched; however, there was no pain. Only warmth.
Pure and golden, like sunlight pressing against my skin.
It wasn't a warmth like fire, but something older, like the patient memory of something ancient finally recognizing a kin spirit. This warmthpermeatedmy skin,seepinginto the very marrow, filling my lungs with a soft, steady rhythm.
I gasped softly.
Suddenly, my forearm started to glow.
A flower mark, intricate and delicate, shimmered to life on my skin. It wasn’t etched, carved, or burned, but it was there as if it had been awoken from beneath the surface.
Gold light curled inward like a seed turning in soil, delicate and pulsing. It moved faintly, tuning in to my breathing.
My kneeswobbled, threatening to give way beneath the sudden onslaught of emotions.
I clutched my arm, not in pain but in awe, in some nameless knowing. The mark pulsed once more, and then faded, leaving only the memory of its light and the faintest warmth, like a heartbeat echoing beneath the skin.
I looked back up, eyes wide.
But the man had alreadypivoted, a jaunty whistleeruptingas if to dismiss the entire encounter. He glided back toward hiscottage with casual, unbothered steps. Bran nudged my side gently. I turned, and together we began walking back toward the trail. The trees closed around us, familiar and real, but something tugged at me—soft and insistent.
I paused. Glanced back over my shoulder.
The man, the cottage, and the garden were all gone. The clearing had unraveled behind me like a dream. Just trees now. Ordinary. Undisturbed. No shrine. No blossoms. No trace of wild pears or golden flowers.
Only birdsong and forest.
I rejoined the group as the light shifted again. The air grew thinner and colder. The bird flew off. At the edge of the path, the deer stood still and surveyed me. It bowed its head once, slowly and solemnly.
Then it turned and vanished into the trees.
Jasira let out a shaky breath. “Wyn…when you left, none of us could move.”
I shiftedto face her fully. Her browploweda deeper furrow between her widened eyes. “I tried to speak,” she whispered. “To call for you. But it was like my voice…froze.”
“I felt it too,” Alaric muttered, jaw tight. “Something held us still. Something magical.”
Gideon rubbed his arms. “It was like the forest itself told us to wait.”
I glanced at Erindor, expecting doubt, but he was staring at the trees where the deer had disappeared, his gaze dark and unwavering.
Erindor pulled his eyes away and stepped beside me. “Are you alright?”
I nodded slowly. “I feel…lighter.”
I glanced back down the grove one last time. The air shimmered faintly at its edge. Just beyond the trees, far in the distance, I caught a last glimpse of the fox.
It stood perfectly still. Observing me from a distance.
A quiet thread of understanding passed between us, unspoken but sure. I raised my hand slightly.
The fox blinked once and vanished into the brush.
No one spoke as we left the grove.
But something had changed.
In me.
