She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, her heart in her throat, before she twisted around to face it.
Her breath caught in wonder as her jaw dropped.
The tree—ancient, wide, and impossibly tall—bent.
Two thick branches curled down with deliberate gentleness, like arms… and then cupped beneath her, one bracing her back while the other supported her under her legs, and lifted her off the damp ground. Her eyes widened as she was lifted nearly twenty feet into the air.
She froze, every muscle tight. “What—what is happening?’ she whispered, blinking rapidly.
The limbs swung her gently until she faced the heart of the trunk, where a triangle of knots began to shift—slowly rearranging themselves into something impossibly familiar. A pair of wide, kind eyes blinked open, and a round hollow deepened into something unmistakably warm—a smile.
“I’ve gone loco!” Alice breathed. “Or dead. I must be dead.”
The entire trunk shuddered with amusement, and golden leaves rained down from the higher branches in a swirling cascade. The sound was like a thousand gentle chimes.
“Well now, you don’t look dead to me,” said a deep, amused voice, rich and warm as honeyed oak. “You do look like you could use some assistance.”
Alice’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
The tree was talking to her.
The tree was smiling at her.
A strange, gray-furred creature with twin tails and tiger-like stripes scurried up the trunk, perching on a knobby shoulder. Its oversized ears twitched as it tilted its head at her, blinking with curious, almond-shaped eyes.
“Are you… real?” she finally managed.
“As real as the tears on your cheeks and the stick in your hands,” the tree replied with a low chuckle. “Though I admit, the branch you’ve chosen as a sword is a little… modest.”
Alice flushed, clutching her stick tighter. “It’s temporary.”
“I imagine most things are,” the tree rumbled. “Come now. Let’s get you somewhere dry before the evening showers start.”
Still blinking in disbelief, Alice slowly wrapped her arm around one of the sturdy limbs cradling her and held on tight.
As the majestic tree turned and began to move—slow and sure, with roots lifting and setting down like massive toes—she stared out across the forest with wide eyes.
Every step shook loose a few more glowing leaves.
A sense of peace settled over her. The forest, though still shadowy, no longer seemed as menacing; the air itself seemed lighter.
It felt like… magic.
Not the kind she commanded with hand sigils and focused will—but a quiet kind.
A kind that whispered, not roared.
That welcomed, not demanded.
That had a heartbeat.
And if she listened—not with her power, but with her heart—she might finally understand the magic this world was trying to share.
The air had changed—from cool and dry to heavy with magic and damp. That’s the first thing Geoff noticed.
He had been halfway up the old forest path leading to Elder Oak when the stillness of the ancient forest fractured. Magic rippled, sharp and strange—wrong somehow—and every creature within earshot fell silent. Geoff froze mid-step, his senses prickling like they always did when the magic of the isle shifted.
And then came the funnel.
