The forest breathed easier now.
Thalindra could feel it in every branch, every rhythm beneath the soil. The wilds weren't safe—but they were balanced again. The wound Merran left behind had closed.
But a new thread tugged at her thoughts.
A memory.
No… not a memory—a song.
A soft, low tune carried on the wind, just beyond reach. Notes played with deliberate pauses. A melody she hadn't heard since she woke at the campsite, but one her body somehow remembered.
It was calling her now.
Kaelen noticed her pause mid-stride. "What is it?"
"Someone's playing," Thalindra said.
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "A bard?"
"No. The rhythm's wrong. It's not a performance. It's a signal."
She turned toward the sound.
Kaelen let out a short sigh. "You're not gonna tell me to stay behind, are you?"
Thalindra smiled faintly. "Not unless you suddenly hate adventure."
Kaelen rolled her eyes and followed. "Lead the way, Leafweaver."
They moved swiftly, ducking through thick underbrush and threading ancient game trails. The melody grew clearer—flute music, rough but practiced, echoing through the canopy. It wasn't magical… but it wasn't mundane either. It was made by someone who understood how to talk to the wild without speaking.
And then they found him.
The trees opened into a glade where sunlight painted patches of moss in gold.
A young half-orc sat on a stone, carved flute to his lips, eyes closed. His armor was cobbled together from hide and bark, painted in forest colors. Two massive spears leaned against the stone nearby. A hunting trap lay reset at his feet.
When he stopped playing, he looked directly at Thalindra.
"I was wondering how long it'd take you."
Kaelen tensed. "You know her?"
He nodded. "I did."
Thalindra stepped forward cautiously. "Then tell me who you are."
He stood, tall and broad-shouldered, but his voice was calm. "Name's Rowan. We were party members. I was your scout. You taught me how to hear the trees better than the prey."
Something stirred in Thalindra's chest.
Warm.
Familiar.
Real.
She smiled. "Rowan."
He nodded once. "You don't remember everything. But the land still likes you. That's more than most people get."
They sat together near a slow stream, sharing stories.
Kaelen kept a watchful distance, sharpening her blade.
Rowan told them what happened after the fire at the ruins:
"The bard died trying to save the war priest. The knight vanished into the collapsing stones. I thought you were dead… until I started dreaming of that flute melody again. You taught it to me once, to call for help without drawing beasts."
"And you kept playing it," Thalindra murmured.
"I figured if you were alive, the land would carry it to you."
She looked up, eyes bright. "It did."
Kaelen leaned in, whispering. "If we've got him, that's three out of six."
Thalindra nodded. "And the wild's only getting louder. There's more to this."
Rowan turned to them. "You're right. I've been tracking strange growths—plants that don't belong to this plane. Something's leaking out of the Verdant Mirror… and it's not just magic."
Kaelen stood. "We've sealed it."
Rowan shook his head. "Then something's opened another."
Thalindra rose, her expression hardening.
"Then we find it. And whoever's behind it."
Rowan picked up his spears and gave a single nod.
"Lead on, Leafweaver. I'm with you."
The forest behind them whispered.
But the path ahead sang louder.