Lira lingered a moment longer in the greenhouse, her fingers brushing the edges of the glowing sprouts. Then, with quiet purpose, she reached into a small leather pouch and selected a few seeds — the ones she felt pulsing gently with something more, something old. She wrapped them carefully in cloth and tucked them close to her chest.
The academy grounds were still quiet as she slipped past the outer buildings, following the now-familiar path to the forest's edge. Morning mist still curled low between the trees, as if waiting.
As Lira stepped into the first line of shadows beneath the canopy, a shift stirred the air — not wind, but presence.
Renkai stepped out from between two trees, his white robes flowing lightly, his silver hair catching a hint of sun through the mist. His expression was unreadable at first, then softened into a quiet smile.
"Today, you are early."
Lira nodded, stepping closer. Her voice was steady, but her eyes held a hint of urgency. "Yes. I have something to ask."
Renkai tilted his head slightly, his gaze settling on her with that calm, knowing weight he always carried. "Then come," he said gently, turning with a flick of his cloak. "Let us walk in the quiet. The grove listens better there."
Without another word, he led the way.
They moved through the woods, the trees parting like old friends. Every step felt familiar now, like a rhythm she'd known in another life. When the old stones of the ruins appeared, wreathed in green and fog, it felt like a breath she hadn't known she was holding was finally released.
The mist parted ahead, the entrance to the grove shimmering like a reflection in water.
Renkai paused at the threshold, glancing at her. "You've brought seeds?"
Lira nodded, fingers brushing the cloth at her chest. "And a dream," she said softly. "A vision."
His expression shifted — something flickered behind his eyes. He turned and stepped forward, voice low.
"Then it is time you begin to remember."
They stepped through the archway into the grove ruins, but Renkai did not walk toward the familiar mist and the portal beyond. Instead, he turned slightly to the left, toward a vine-covered wall where broken stone and wild roots curled around each other like they were keeping secrets.
Lira hesitated. "We're not going to the grove?"
"Not today," he said softly, brushing his hand along the ivy-covered stones. A gentle hum vibrated through the air as the vines responded, slowly parting, revealing an arched passage hidden in the growth.
Lira's breath caught.
Renkai stepped in first. "There's more than one way to remember."
She followed.
The corridor beyond was ancient. The walls were stone, smoothed by time but still carved with faint symbols — old elvish, perhaps, or something even older. Vines had made homes in the cracks, their leaves catching tiny droplets of light from glowing moss that lit the way.
They walked in silence until they reached a set of wide stone stairs curling downward, spiraling into the earth like a coiled memory.
At the bottom, the air changed. Cooler. Thicker. Laced with the scent of old books, dried herbs, and something faintly fresh, like the trace of water.
The chamber opened before them.
It was lit by dozens of soft, flickering candles resting in old sconces and along the floor. In the center of the round room, where several dark hallways branched off like veins, stood a single painting resting on an ancient wooden easel.
Lira stopped in her tracks.
She knew that face.
The woman in the painting stood proud, in deep green robes laced with silver, her hair braided in a familiar way, a soft strength in her eyes. She held a bottle in one hand — the very same shape Lira had seen thrown in her dream and behind her, mist curled as if from another realm. And beside her feet… a fox. Silver-white. Eyes glowing.
Lira stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. "That's her."
Renkai remained still, his voice low and steady. "Elaris. A name nearly forgotten. But not by the grove. And not by the blood that remembers."
Lira turned toward him slowly, eyes wide. "She's… real?"
"She was," he said. "And perhaps still is. Not all lives end the way we think. Some echoes choose to return."
Lira's heart beat faster. She looked at the woman's eyes again, something about them felt too close, too intimate, like they were watching her back.
"I dreamed of her," she said. "Last night. She was in danger… and she summoned help. A portal. A creature like..." Her eyes flicked to Renkai.
His expression was unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.
Renkai stepped forward, his movements slow, almost reverent. He stood before the painting, his fingers brushing lightly against the woman's cheek, just where the paint had begun to crack with age. His touch lingered there, not to disturb, but as if recalling something long held and deeply buried.
Without turning, his voice came, soft and layered with memory.
"I knew her for a long time. She was one of the most extraordinary beings to walk this realm. Wise… fierce when needed, yet full of gentleness. Her presence shaped more than she ever realized."
He let his hand fall, then turned to face Lira.
His eyes met hers, calm but piercing.
"I know what awaits you too, Lira. And I'm prepared to help you walk that path."
She blinked, unable to move, her breath caught between disbelief and recognition.
"You are her," Renkai said gently, his tone like a leaf brushing water. "But you do not remember yet. Your memories will return, piece by piece. In dreams, in moments, in the quiet places where the veil between then and now thins."
Lira's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her body was still, as if the air around her had thickened. The candlelight flickered across her skin, catching in her eyes that shimmered faintly, like mist at sunrise.
Her mind raced.
The dreams.
The fox.
The potion.
The pull she felt toward the ancient things. The way plants whispered their secrets to her hands. The soft ache in her heart when she stood beneath the spirit tree as if returning somewhere she'd once belonged.
"I…" she started, her voice trembling. "I always felt something… different. I didn't understand. But the dreams… they weren't just dreams."
Renkai stepped toward her, close enough for her to feel the warmth he carried with him, like forest air just after rain.
"They were memories," he said. "Trying to reach you. And now, you're beginning to hear them."
Lira nodded slowly, a strange calm wrapping itself around her confusion.
Lira took a deep breath, her voice steadier now, though still laced with wonder and the weight of everything she had just heard.
"There's something I need to ask," she said, shifting her gaze from the painting to Renkai. "It's about a potion. Master Therin is trying to create it - a summoning potion, one that would call a protector in a time of need."
Renkai's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes - not surprise, but recognition.
He nodded slowly. "I know the potion."
Lira tilted her head, eyes searching his. "We tried again and again. It didn't work. We followed every step of the recipe. The components were correct. But nothing happened."
Renkai exhaled, almost like a sigh through the leaves.
"That's because this is not a potion of mere ingredients and fire," he said gently. "It's one bound by consent."
"Consent?" she repeated, brows furrowing.
He turned slightly and walked to the edge of the room, where the vines curled softly around an ancient stone basin. His hand rested lightly on its rim as he spoke.
"A true protector cannot be summoned like a tool. They must agree to come. Their spirit must choose to stand beside you — not just because you call, but because they recognize your need, your heart, your cause."
He looked back at her.
"That potion is not brewed. It is forged through connection. A bond must be made first, between the summoner and the protector. Otherwise, the potion will remain... silent."
Lira felt the memory of the dream again — the bottle shattering, the fog swirling, the fox leaping forth.
"And if the bond is already there?" she asked quietly. "But forgotten?"
"Then the potion becomes a key," Renkai replied, stepping closer. "Not to summon something new, but to awaken what was once agreed."
Lira's breath caught.
"Like… you," she whispered. "You protected her. The woman in my dreams. You came from the fog. You fought for her."
Renkai held her gaze, unblinking.
"I did," he said softly. "And if your heart still carries the same truth as hers once did, I will do so again."
Something warm stirred in Lira's chest. A quiet, ancient warmth, not blazing like fire, but steady like earth. Deep roots waking beneath her skin.
She looked down at her hands, then back up to him.
"Then I need to remember," she said. "I need to make it right."
Renkai gave a small, solemn nod.
"Then come," he said. "We will go to the Spirit Tree. And you will begin the rite."
They stood in silence for a few breaths longer, the candlelight flickering softly across ancient stone and the painted eyes of the woman who looked so much like her. Then, without needing to speak further, Renkai turned toward the stairs. Lira followed, her heart heavy but awake with something deeper than thought, like a rhythm long forgotten now beginning to beat again.
Step by step, they ascended the curling stone staircase. The air grew lighter with each level, the coolness of the lower halls giving way to the softer warmth of the grove above.
As they emerged past the worn stone archway and stepped toward the portal gate, the great Spirit Tree pulsed softly in greeting. A gentle green shimmer ran through its bark and up into the high-reaching limbs, a low hum almost like a heartbeat echoing through the sacred space.
The tree knew. It always knew.
Renkai paused for a moment, his gaze resting on the glowing bark. He smiled slightly, not at Lira, but at the tree or perhaps, through it. A silent conversation between old beings.
Then he stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter first.
Lira passed through the archway and into the grove, the familiar scent of moss, flowers, and earth wrapping around her like a welcome embrace. The light was softer here, filtered through leaves that shimmered gently as if stirred by invisible wings.
She felt it immediately, the energy of the place had shifted. Not just because they had returned, but because something within her had changed. The grove responded not only to presence but to essence.
The path ahead was waiting.
Renkai stepped beside her and spoke quietly, his voice as steady as the wind:
"The Spirit Tree knows your steps. When you're ready… it will open the way to your memories. And your bond."
Lira nodded slowly, her fingers brushing the satchel at her side. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she was willing.