The first fire appeared at dawn.
Tim was the one who saw it a smudge of smoke rising above the southern glade. He woke Lucy and Mark with urgency in his voice.
They ran together through the narrow deer paths, the soft moss scorched underfoot. When they reached the clearing, the grass was still burning in a perfect circle no wider than a wagon wheel. And in the center, blackened soil pulsed with a dull, ember colored glow.
Lightning? Mark asked.
Tim shook his head. No storm last night.
Lucy crouched, her fingers hovering just above the smoking earth. A sensation trembled up her arm heat, yes, but something more. A kind of awareness. Like a memory trying to speak.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she saw the child again standing barefoot in that same circle. Except this time, she was awake, golden eyes fixed on Lucy as though she could see across the veil of time.
And in her small hands, she held a flame that did not burn her.
Why do you fear me?
The question rippled through Lucy's mind. She pulled back with a ragged breath.
Tim touched her shoulder. What did you see?
She was here, Lucy whispered. Or... she will be here.
Mark circled the burned ring slowly, his expression taut. She's not waiting anymore. She's reaching through.
Lucy looked up, scanning the tree line. If she can touch the world before she's born... she may not be the only one.
Tim face darkened. Then whatever hunts her could already be hunting us.
They spent the day stamping out the embers and marking the glade with protective sigils. But as dusk fell, another fire ignited this one farther north, near the Elder Grove.
Then another.
And another.
Always the same: perfect circles, warm with a hidden heartbeat. As though the forest was breathing flame.
By midnight, Lucy had counted seven.
And in each place, she felt that same unsettling presence curious, restless, and growing stronger.
Mark watched her as she traced her palm over the last ring of scorched earth. If she keeps reaching across, she'll burn the forest before she ever sets foot here.
Lucy met his gaze. Then we have to find a way to guide her. Teach her. Or she'll tear this place apart without meaning to.
Tim looked at them both, eyes grim. And if she does mean to?
Silence fell.
None of them wanted to answer
That night, as Lucy lay beneath the Heart Tree, she dreamed not of fire but of a lullaby sung in a language she didn't recognize. A voice low and warm, singing to the unborn child:
Sleep, little flame.
Sleep till the world is ready.
Sleep till the roots remember your name.
When she woke, dawn was breaking and the golden red lantern above her was no longer pulsing gently.
It was spinning.
Faster than before.
Lucy rose before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. A low wind pushed through the clearing, carrying the scent of scorched earth. She pressed her palm to the Heart Tree's roots, hoping the old presence there would answer her.
Instead, she felt something entirely new.
Heat.
It slid under her skin threading through her veins, curling around her heart. It wasn't painful, but it made her chest tighten. Like she was breathing embers instead of air.
Mark tirred beside her. He looked thinner in the dawn light, as though each night here was taking something from him. Maybe from all of them.
Another fire? he asked, voice rough.
Lucy swallowed. I don't know. But she's not sleeping anymore.
They set out before breakfast, walking the trails Tim had marked the night before. All around them, the lanterns watched some dimming as they passed, some brightening in quick, wary flashes.
Lucy tried not to look too long into their depths.
When they reached the Elder Grove, the last place they'd seen a burn ring, she stopped short.
Something had changed.
Where before there had been blackened circles, now green shoots rose from the ashes tall as her knees, bright as new spring leaves. Each leaf shimmered faintly, as though lit from within by a hidden flame.
Tim crouched to examine them. His gloved fingers brushed the nearest stalk, and he hissed.
Hot, he muttered, drawing back. Alive.
Lucy stepped closer. The plants radiated a gentle warmth that made the chill of dawn feel like winter. She reached out carefully, expecting the same burn Tim had felt.
But when her palm grazed a leaf, the heat sank into her skin and didn't hurt her at all. Instead, she felt... steadied. As though something inside the plants recognized her.
Mark moved to her side. What is it?
She shook her head slowly. I think... it's her. It's part of her.
Tim stood. Life and fire, together. This isn't destruction. It's creation.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Then Lucy turned, eyes lifting to the canopy where the lanterns swayed. She's not just dreaming fire anymore, she whispered. She's growing.
Tim's voice was flat. And she's doing it without being born.
Mark swallowed. Then we have less time than we thought.
Lucy didn't argue. She knew he was right.
They marked the Grove with sigils and returned to the Heart Tree, exhaustion clinging to their bones. As dusk fell again, Lucy sank to her knees beneath the spinning lantern and closed her eyes.
show me.
The thought formed clear and resolute.
If you're here, show me who you are.
The wind rose. Leaves shivered in the dark.
And for the briefest moment, Lucy felt the child's presence again bright, curious, unbearably alone.
I am not afraid, the thought came, not in words but in feeling.
I am awake.
Lucy's breath caught.
When she opened her eyes, the lantern had stilled.
And in her heart, something answered:
So am I.
Dawn came gray and listless.
The warmth that had flowed through the forest in recent days now felt taut and uneasy, as if everything alive was holding back a collective shudder. Even the Heart Tree's glow seemed dimmer like a lantern running out of oil.
Lucy could feel it in her blood. A tension she couldn't name.
Tim returned from the southern border with news no one wanted.
The Ash Vale is stirring, he said. I saw movement along the old fissures. It's spreading.
Mark looked up sharply. I thought nothing survived there.
Tim's jaw clenched. Nothing living.
Lucy felt the word settle in her chest like a weight.
The Ash Vale. A place where the forest had been wounded centuries ago, when the Crown of Ash tore herself free and left a hollow scar. Nothing grew there only a black wasteland of cracked earth and dying light.
Nothing had ever dared to cross that threshold.
Until now.
They gathered supplies and set out before the sun was high. The path wound through stands of pale birch, their trunks whispering as the wind passed between them. Even here, far from the Heart Tree, Lucy could feel the Lantern born's presence like a heartbeat thrumming beneath her skin.
By midday, they reached the edge of the Vale.
It looked unchanged at first: the same blasted expanse of soot and ruin. But as Lucy stepped forward, she felt it. A current. A pull.
Mark's hand closed around her wrist. Don't go farther, he said. Look.
She followed his gaze.
In the center of the wasteland, a single stalk had broken through the cracked soil. Green and gold, its leaves shivering with hidden flame.
The same plants she'd found in the Elder Grove.
Her throat tightened. She's reaching here too.
Tim's voice was low. This is where the Crown of Ash was born. Where she tore herself free.
Lucy nodded. And this is where the Lantern born will set her roots.
Mark looked over. Then she's not just dreaming this forest into something new. She's reaching for what was lost.
Tim scanned the horizon, his expression grim. Or what should have stayed buried
They moved carefully across the brittle earth, every step stirring little puffs of black dust. Lucy felt the air thicken with memory. Not visions, but sensations: the agony of an old wound, the loneliness of a severed root.
At the center, she knelt beside the new growth.
As her fingers brushed the leaves, a memory not her own flared behind her eyes:
A woman with a crown of scorched vines. Tears of molten gold. A voice rasping in the darkness:
We tried to burn it all. And still it comes back.
Lucy pulled her hand away, heart hammering.
She turned to Tim . It's her. The Crown of Ash. She left part of herself behind.
And the Lantern born is awakening it, Tim finished, voice low.
Mark looked between them. Then is she trying to heal it... or claim it?
Lucy didn't have an answer.
But as they stood together in the heart of the Ash Vale, she felt a truth she couldn't deny:
This was only the beginning.
That night, back beneath the Heart Tree, Lucy couldn't sleep.
The golden red lantern spun slowly above her, shedding little motes of ember-colored light. For the first time, she realized they weren't just drifting down.
They were flowing outward toward the Ash Vale.
Toward something waiting to wake.
Lucy did not sleep.
She lay beneath the Heart Tree, listening to the hush that had settled across the forest. It wasn't the old, predatory quiet she had known in her first days here when every shadow seemed to watch her. This was different.
This was a waiting.
Above her, the golden red lantern turned in slow, steady arcs. Each time it completed a rotation, she felt something in her chest pulse in answer like her own heart was tied to its motion. The more she tried to ignore it, the more the sensation grew: a warm, relentless pull, steady as the tide.
She rose before dawn.
Mark was already awake, standing by the stream with his back to her. His silhouette looked somehow thinner in the pre-dawn gloom.
You feel it too, she said quietly.
He didn't turn, but she saw his shoulders stiffen. I dream about her every night now. About the fire.
Lucy swallowed. So do I.
At her words, Mark finally faced her. His eyes were shadowed and tired. When you touched that plant in the Ash Vale… something changed. The air, the ground. It felt like she was reaching out to us, like she knew we were there.
She did, Lucy whispered.
Mark hesitated. And you touched it anyway.
She wanted to argue wanted to say she hadn't known what would happen. But it would have been a lie. Part of her had wanted to feel the Lantern born's presence. Part of her was hungry for the understanding she offered.
Tim emerged from the trees, as silent as ever. But he watched Lucy with something close to wariness now. She felt the sting of it in her chest.
Yu can't keep touching her echoes, he said. Everytime you do, she wakes more.
Lucy didn't look away. Then tell me how else to understand what she is.
Tim's mouth tightened. You don't. Some things are meant to remain hidden.
Not this, she said. She's not just an accident of magic. She's choosing to reach for us.
Tim exhaled, tired. And if she chooses wrong?
Lucy didn't have an answer.
They spent the day marking new sigils around the Heart Tree, hoping to slow the strange currents of power that now tugged through the forest. But everywhere they went, they found signs:
Shoots of ember veined plants rising through old roots.
Ash drifting on the wind even far from the Vale.
Lanterns flickering in unison, as though guided by an unseen hand.
By twilight, Lucy had stopped pretending the change could be contained.
They returned to the clearing, and for the first time, she truly looked up into the lantern's glow without fear.
You're awake, she murmured. And you want something.
The wind stirred her hair, carrying a hush that felt almost like an answer.
Tim came to stand beside her, arms folded. What if she isn't asking for help? What if she's calling us to witness what she's becoming?
Lucy closed her eyes. What if?
When she opened them again, the lantern's ember light had deepened to a rich, molten gold.
And she knew, with a certainty that made her breath catch:
Whatever the Lantern born was meant to be, she was no longer just a dream.
She was becoming real.