The afternoon sun filtered through the towering pines, casting golden patches of light onto the moss-laced forest floor. Birds chirped in the distance, their melodies gentle and fleeting, like the laughter of ghosts. The air smelled of pine needles and memory-damp earth, blooming moss, and something older, lingering just out of reach.
Scarlet tugged at Ana's hand as they walked along a trail half-swallowed by time, her boots crunching against the fallen leaves.
"I know it's somewhere past this ridge," Scarlet said, her voice soft, thoughtful.
Ana raised a brow, smirking. "You're sure this isn't just your brain clinging to Alec's charm?"
Scarlet rolled her eyes, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "It's not about him. Not really."
But the truth hung unspoken between them. Scarlet had been thinking about him-his voice, his heat, the way his presence stirred something ancient in her. Yet beneath that yearning was something deeper. Something that pulled her here, to this place.
------
The trees parted ahead, revealing a clearing wrapped in mist and silence.
Silverthorne Manor stood before them.
A gothic relic etched with time and sorrow, the manor towered like a forgotten monument. Ivy curled like veins around its stone walls and wrought-iron balconies, and the grand oak doors loomed tall and still, proud even in their decay. The air shimmered faintly around it-warded, watching.
Ana stopped in her tracks. Her lips parted.
"I... I've been here before."
Scarlet's heart stilled. "You remember?"
Ana took a slow step forward, her eyes wide, unfocused-like she was seeing two worlds at once.
"We were little. Maybe six or seven. You chased me through the halls with a wooden sword," she said with a small laugh, dazed but awed. "You kept shouting, 'Defend yourself, Lady Ana!' And then you tripped over a rug and nearly took out a whole table of pastries."
Scarlet laughed, the memory tumbling back like a rush of spring water. "You cried because you thought Abuela would scold us... but she just handed you another tart and told you to aim for my knees next time."
Ana turned slowly toward her, her expression softening with wonder. "And that creepy painting in the dining room-the one with the eyes that followed us around? We used to swear it blinked."
Scarlet nodded, her throat tightening. "And the greenhouse in the back. You used to fall asleep in the herb beds. Abuela said you had the spirit of a wildflower."
"She said you had the heart of fire," Ana whispered. "Said you were born to protect something sacred."
They stood in silence for a moment, fingers still laced together like when they were girls.
"She used to bring us here when it was safe. Before the war," Scarlet said. "Before everything fell apart."
-------
Together, they crossed under the weathered archway and into the ruins of their past. Each hallway breathed around them. Cracked murals painted in faded gold, scuffed wooden floors, a shattered chandelier lying like bones across the ballroom tiles.
In the grand hall, dust shimmered in the sunlight like glitter caught in time. Scarlet ran her fingers along a piano coated in years, and for a heartbeat, she heard the faint echo of childish laughter, of music, of feet pattering across the marble as they danced in cloaks made from curtains and crowns of woven ivy.
Ana brushed her fingers across the black marble mantelpiece, tracing a carved Silverthorne etched long ago. "Why did we forget all of this?"
"Because remembering meant facing what we lost," Scarlet said softly. "Our families. Our lives. Who we really were."
Ana turned to her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But it's still here. We're still here."
Scarlet smiled, though it trembled at the corners. "And maybe... maybe that's how we begin to get it back."
They moved through the house, lingering in rooms like ghosts-pausing at doorways where dreams once bloomed and faded. They found Ana's old room, faded ribbons still tied to the iron bedpost. Scarlet's nursery, now caved in with vines pushing through the stone like nature itself had taken up residence in her absence.
------
Outside, they wandered to the back gardens. The lake came into view, still and silver under the early evening sky. The same great oak tree arched its ancient limbs over the water, its thick branch reaching out like it had been waiting all this time.
They sat at the edge of the lake in silence.
"I used to make us flower crowns," Ana murmured. "You'd pretend they gave you power. Said they made you invisible."
Scarlet smiled. "And you believed me."
"You always made the world feel a little more magical."
"I think the world was magical," Scarlet said. "Before we had to grow up."
A warm wind swept through the trees. A shimmer rippled across the surface of the lake. The forest seemed to exhale around them, like it had been holding its breath until their return.
"I miss them," Ana whispered, her voice breaking.
Scarlet leaned her head against hers. "Me too. Every day."
They stayed like that, forehead to forehead, the weight of memory resting gently on their shoulders now-not suffocating, but anchoring.
"Maybe," Scarlet whispered, "this is where we rebuild. Not just the war, not just the magic-but us. Everything they gave us. Everything we lost."
Ana reached for her hand and squeezed. "Together?"
"Always."
Ana broke the silence first. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Do you think we were meant to come back here?"
Scarlet turned her gaze to the water, the reflection of the oak tree rippling slightly across the surface. "I think... we were always meant to return. But maybe not until now. Maybe we weren't ready."
Ana drew her knees to her chest. "It scares me. Remembering. It's like pieces of me I never knew were missing are coming back, and I don't know what to do with them."
"I know," Scarlet said quietly. "I feel it too. Like there's this whole version of myself that's been buried under everything-fear, lies, the spells Lucia cast to keep us safe. But now... I can't keep pretending I'm just some girl trying to get through junior year."
Ana glanced at her. "You never were."
Scarlet chuckled softly. "You always said that."
"Because it was true. Even when we were little, there was something about you. Like your magic hummed louder than anyone else's. Like the world was always bending a little to you."
Scarlet leaned back on her hands, the breeze ruffling her hair. "I used to think that meant I was broken. Or dangerous. Something to hide."
Ana reached out and took her hand. "You're not broken, Scar. You're powerful. And I think we're just starting to understand how much."
Scarlet's throat tightened. "I wish I remembered them more. Not just the flickers-smiles, voices-but whole days. Conversations. The sound of our mother's laugh. The way our father looked when he held us."
"I think... those memories are still here," Ana said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Somewhere deep. We just have to give them room to breathe."
They sat in silence for a few moments longer, the sun dipping behind the trees, painting the manor's silhouette in burnt orange and violet shadows.
Scarlet glanced back at the house. "Do you think we could ever live here again?"
Ana tilted her head, considering. "Maybe not like before. But... maybe we could make it ours again. Piece by piece."
A smile tugged at the corner of Scarlet's lips. "I want that. Not just for us-but for them. For what they built. For what they believed in."
Ana nodded. "Then we start here. With this moment. With remembering."
Scarlet's eyes shimmered as she looked at her sister-no longer just the girl who'd grown up with her in secret, but someone who shared her past, her blood, her purpose.
"Together?" she asked.
"Always," Ana whispered.
As the last light faded and dusk settled over Silverthorne Manor, the sisters sat side by side at the edge of the lake-no longer lost girls, but women ready to reclaim everything that had been taken from them.
And in the stillness, the forest seemed to agree.