The wind had grown gentle and warm by the time Elarien left the Memory Tree. The silver wolf walked beside her, silent but sure, his golden eyes always glancing ahead. The forest no longer felt like a place she had wandered into—it felt like it knew her now, like she belonged.
As they walked, the trees began to thin, and the path opened into a small valley. Mossy stones dotted the hillside, and wildflowers grew in little groups, bright and cheerful. In the center of it all was one stone that stood taller than the rest. Flat on top, round at the edges, and smooth as water.
The wolf stopped beside it.
This is where voices sleep.
Elarien tilted her head. "Voices?"
The wolf looked at the stone.
Long ago, when the forest still wore its first leaves, those who carried magic spoke their truths into the stone. It remembers them. It holds their words, waiting for someone who can listen.
Elarien stepped closer to the stone. Her fingers brushed over the surface. It was cool and quiet.
"How do I listen?" she asked.
With your heart, not your ears.
She took a breath and knelt beside the stone. The silver wolf sat quietly, letting her take her time.
Elarien closed her eyes.
At first, she heard only her own thoughts—soft worries, memories of Nana, the sound of her own breath. But then, slowly, something else began to rise beneath the silence.
A voice.
Faint. Soft. Like a whisper through a long tunnel.
She leaned in.
It was a woman's voice.
"I gave her the ring because it belongs to her. Because she will find the path I could not finish. If you are listening, my child, know this: you are not broken. You are only blooming."
Elarien's eyes opened wide.
That voice. It was her mother.
She touched the ring again, the one tied around her neck. A tear rolled down her cheek.
"She was here," she said, her voice catching.
She left her words, knowing one day you'd come.
Elarien sat quietly for a while. The wind moved through the valley like a song without words. The stone held her mother's voice, her truth, her hope. It was still here. It had waited.
"I want to speak too," she said.
The wolf nodded once.
Then speak.
Elarien placed both hands on the stone and leaned forward. She didn't think. She just spoke from the part of her that had always been quiet.
"I am Elarien, daughter of the forest, child of the silver ring. I am not afraid of the past. I will walk toward the future. I will be the voice that was lost."
The stone pulsed beneath her hands. Just once. A soft thrum, like a heartbeat.
And then it was still.
Elarien stood slowly. She felt stronger. Like something inside her had settled.
The wolf walked beside her again.
Come. The moon will rise soon. The others are waiting.
"Others?"
Those who know the truth of the forest. The ones who live between the howl and the hush.
Elarien didn't know exactly what that meant, but she knew this: she wasn't alone anymore. Her voice had been heard.
And the forest was listening.