The map Rowan sketched wasn't on parchment—it was carved into the bark of a fallen tree.
His fingers traced lines where growth had twisted unnaturally, branches spiraling inward instead of out, like something had pulled the life into itself.
"I've seen this before," he said. "Hollow Root Grove. Used to be a healing glen. Wild druids kept it untouched for centuries."
"And now?" Thalindra asked, watching the markings pulse faintly beneath her fingertips.
"Now it doesn't breathe. Birds don't fly over it. The trees don't move. It's dead, but not quiet."
Kaelen grunted. "Every time I think we've dealt with the worst, there's a worse version waiting."
Thalindra stood. "Then we'll meet it. Together."
They traveled north for two days.
The forest changed as they walked. It grew too quiet. Animals gave them wide berth. The canopy thickened unnaturally, blocking the sun even at midday. Vines writhed just slightly when brushed, recoiling like startled serpents.
On the third morning, they reached the Grove's edge.
And stopped.
It was a crater of forest.
A clearing, yes—but wrong.
All the trees around its edge had died, bark peeled back, hollowed out as if something sang the soul out of them. The ground was littered with petals that had never bloomed. The very air was thin, like a breath halfway held.
At the center stood a tree—massive, but inverted.
Its branches clawed downward into the earth, roots reaching into the sky like skeletal fingers. From the base, long cracks spread like spiderwebs of rot.
Kaelen muttered, "That's not natural."
Rowan raised a hand. "Don't touch the roots. They react."
Thalindra narrowed her eyes. "To what?"
Rowan's voice dropped. "To memory."
They entered the Grove cautiously, stepping over crumbled druidic stones and twisted moss that oozed black when touched. The tree loomed overhead, humming softly with a note just beneath hearing.
Thalindra approached the trunk.
Her mark flared.
Suddenly—vision.
She was back in the Mirror.
But it was broken.
Flashing lights.
Screams.
Her Circle, torn apart. Wildlings rising before they had names. Something crawling through a split in the earth. Something ancient.
And then—
A voice.
Feminine.
Familiar.
"You sealed the gate, but you left the key behind."
Thalindra gasped and staggered back.
Kaelen caught her. "What happened?"
"I heard her."
"Who?"
Thalindra looked to the tree's crown—its roots stabbing toward the sky.
"I think it's not just the Mirror leaking."
She looked to Rowan and Kaelen, her voice low.
"I think someone's trying to grow a new one."
A rustle behind them.
A figure stepped from the shadows between dead trunks.
Hooded.
Cloaked in bark and bone.
The voice beneath the hood was soft—and familiar.
"It's about time you came home, Leafweaver."
Thalindra froze.
Her heart knew that voice.
"…Elaen."