The rain had stopped by morning, but the forest still dripped with it—branches trembling with leftover drops, soil soft and rich underfoot. Joy didn't wait this time. She packed lightly, tightened her boots, and set out before the sun crested the hills.
There was no map. No path. Only a feeling that tugged at her chest like a thread pulling her toward something she was meant to find.
James met her at the edge of the Wildwood.
"You know where you're going?" he asked.
Joy shook her head. "No. But I think it does." She glanced into the trees. "And I think it's ready."
They walked in silence, the forest pressing close on either side. It no longer felt like it was hiding from them. It felt like it was leading them.
After nearly two hours, they reached it.
Not a stone this time—but a doorway.
A massive arch formed entirely from roots, twisted together so tightly they looked like iron. The arch rose at least ten feet high, set into the side of a hill cloaked in moss. At its center was a seal carved in wood and stone—three symbols intertwined.
Joy stepped closer. Her hand went to the leaf in her journal. The symbol etched into it pulsed faintly now, as if it recognized this place.
"This is what I saw in the vision," she whispered. "The door."
James crouched beside it, brushing away fallen leaves. "It hasn't been opened in a long time."
Joy didn't hesitate. She placed her hand against the seal.
A hum filled the air.
The symbols began to glow—one for each stone she had touched. The seal vibrated beneath her palm, and a low groan echoed through the hill like something ancient stretching awake.
Then, with a soft shudder, the door began to open.
Roots slid apart like threads unraveling, revealing a dark passage that descended deep into the earth.
Joy looked at James.
"We don't have to go in right now," he said carefully. "We can come back when we know more."
She shook her head. "No. This is what it's been leading me to. I have to go."
Lanterns lit, they stepped through the arch and into the darkness.
The tunnel was damp and cold, the walls lined with roots that pulsed gently with the same silver light. As they walked, the air grew warmer, not with heat, but with memory—like stepping into the breath of a dream long-held.
Then, at the end of the passage, they reached a chamber.
It was circular, hollowed from earth and stone, with a pool in the center—like the one beneath the old tree, but larger. Above it hung dozens of strands of ivy, each tipped with glowing drops of light.
Joy moved forward.
The moment she stepped to the pool, the lights flickered. And then—
A voice.
Not whispered, not distant. Clear. Right beside her.
"You have returned."
The Watcher stood at the edge of the pool, its ivy cloak swaying slightly, as if stirred by an unseen wind.
"You are the last of her line," it said. "And the forest remembers."
Joy felt a strange stillness settle over her. "Her?"
"The one who sealed the veil. Who held the memory. Your blood is her legacy."
Joy stepped closer to the pool. The lights above reflected her face—and behind it, the girl from her visions.
The Watcher extended a hand.
"Touch the memory. Let it awaken. Only then will the forest breathe whole again."
Joy reached out.
As her fingers met the water, the world dissolved into light.