”Hey, did you touch that the last time you were here? Then how…how did it end up on the other side?

  …

  You think she did it? That’s impossible. Those things I read to you, they’re just…

  ………

  Sorry…”

  Ariel fell.

  At least, that was what it felt like, her body tumbling into a vast and endless dark. There was no air, no ground, no sense of up or down. Only the plunge, the weightless drift of herself cut loose from anything solid. Her stomach lurched with every imagined drop, her arms flailing for anchors that weren’t there. The sensation went on and on, timeless, until she no longer knew if she was falling quickly or barely moving at all.

  The void pressed against her like cold velvet. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, too loud, too sharp. For a moment she wondered if she still had a body at all or if she was nothing but sound and panic, unraveling thread by thread. Yet through it all, some unseen current bore her downward, tugging gently, inevitably.

  Then, softly, her feet touched something. Not solid, not quite. It was like standing on mist woven thick enough to hold her weight. She gasped, bracing herself, waiting for the ground to dissolve again… but it didn’t. It held her, invisible and unyielding beneath her bare feet.

  She stood in silence, straining her eyes against the dark. But the void gave her nothing. No horizon, no flicker of light, no stars to orient herself by. Just endless, swallowing black. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried to steady her breath. “Hello?” she called, her voice small at first. “Is… is anyone there?”

  The word didn’t fade as it should have. It echoed, faint at first, then swelling louder, bouncing back at her in waves that rose and fell. Louder, softer, louder, softer. The sound warped, stretched, until it was no longer her voice but something unfamiliar and haunting. She pressed her hands to her ears, but the echoes pierced through her palms, reverberating inside her skull.

  And then, finally, silence.

  Her pulse thundered. She tried again, louder this time. “Help! Someone! Please!” The cry tore out of her raw and desperate. Again it split, multiplying into a dozen voices that were hers and not hers, spilling back into the void in oscillating swells until, like the first, they, too, faded away.

  Her throat ached. She sank to her knees, staring into the black, trembling. The emptiness answered her only with more emptiness.

  Then… movement. Subtle at first, as though the dark had shifted. Wisps of color stirred through the void like smoke in water. Pale grays at the edges of her vision, then blues, then browns, drifting together and apart until they began to take shape.

  She scrambled back to her feet as objects emerged. A couch, its cushions worn but sturdy. A low table, wood gleaming in the dim. Cabinets. A kitchen half-formed. Then a hearth, lightless, its mantle stark against the growing blur of walls. And above it… an urn, resting with quiet certainty. Near the window, two small creatures perched on the sill. Round, plump bodies, leafy stalks sprouting like tiny stems from their heads. Their eyes glowed faintly as they sat side by side, watching her with gentle stillness.

  The smoke swirled faster, colors solidifying. Plaster walls. A rug beneath her feet. Lamps fixed to corners. The scent of something domestic: wood, faint dust, the memory of fire from the hearth. When the haze cleared, Ariel stood in the middle of an apartment.

  It looked familiar. Too familiar. She turned in a slow circle, her breath quick, her hand pressed against her chest. Every detail tugged at something deep inside her, something she couldn’t quite reach. She knew this place. She had been here before. Yet the knowledge skittered away from her every time she reached for it, leaving only the aching certainty that this was home… and the crushing truth that she didn’t know why.

  Her feet carried her forward, cautious, as though she might disturb the stillness if she moved too quickly. She drifted to the couch first, fingers brushing its worn cushions. A warmth welled up inside her, sudden and heavy, filling her chest until it almost hurt. It was comforting, yet threaded with sadness so sharp she pulled her hand away as though burned.

  She turned to the kitchen next. Cabinets lined the walls, a counter scattered with the faint impression of use. A pang of longing curled through her, mingled with a strange tenderness that wrapped around her heart like a blanket. She didn’t know why it made her ache, only that it did.

  Her eyes then found the creatures in the window. She moved toward them slowly, drawn as though they carried some hidden promise. They sat quietly, round and plump, leafy stems atop their heads glowing faintly in the dim. As she looked at them, a comfort seeped into her bones. It was as though they were guardians of something dear, protectors of a secret she couldn’t quite grasp.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ariel stared at them for a long time, unable to look away. Her throat tightened, and before she realized it, a tear broke free and rolled down her cheek. She blinked, startled, and swiped it away with the back of her hand. “Why… why am I crying?” she whispered to the empty room. Her voice cracked as though even the question carried grief she couldn’t name.

  She looked at the creatures once more, lingering on their glow, before turning away and crossing to the other side of the living room. Her eyes rose to the fireplace, and to the urn that sat on the mantle. It was ornate, vines etched in a double helix pattern curling around its base. The sight rooted her in place.

  Dread sank through her stomach like lead. She couldn’t explain why, but the urn filled her with sorrow that seemed bottomless. Her breaths came shorter, her knees weakening as emotion swelled up sharp and choking. A weight pressed down on her chest, heavy with a certainty she couldn’t voice: she had left something behind. Someone behind.

  The image of the blonde-haired woman flickered in her mind, fragile and fragmented. Ariel reached for it desperately, searching for a name. “Who are you?” she whispered to the urn, to the room, to the ache in her chest. “Who were you to me?” She could almost feel it, perched on the tip of her tongue, but it slipped away again and again. “Say it,” she hissed at herself. “Say her name. Come on—say it.” The syllables wouldn’t come. Frustration clawed through her. “Why can’t I remember?” she muttered, then louder, harsher, “Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I just—”

  She dragged her nails across her scalp, pacing, then smacked the heel of her hand against her temple as if she could knock the word loose. “Think. Think. Think.” She grabbed the mantle with both hands, knuckles blanching. “What’s wrong with me?” Her voice broke. “What is my name? Who am I?” The questions came ragged, breath hitching. “Please,” she begged the emptiness, “please. Just give me something.”

  Anger surged, hot and ugly. “Say it,” she spat at herself, eyes burning. “Say her damn name.” The silence held. “God, why can’t I fucking remember?!” The curse tore out of her like a confession, raw and shaking. Not knowing her own name, not knowing the woman’s, it was unbearable. The grief and fury crashed together until the pressure inside her chest split wide. She bent at the waist, and a sob wrenched from her that was more than a sound. It was desperate. It ripped out of her, echoing through the apartment as though the walls mourned with her.

  Her sobs broke into words, ragged and pleading. “Wisp,” she cried, clutching the mantle, forehead pressed against the cool wood. “If you’re real. If you’re out there… help me. Please. Help me remember. Help me understand what the hell is happening to me.” Her voice cracked, tumbling between anger and desperation. “I can’t do this alone.”

  The room held its silence, but the urn above her began to stir. At first it was only a shimmer, a faint suggestion of color at its base. Green light glimmered like dew, red flared like embers, both faint as candle-flame. They drifted around the urn in lazy threads, weaving together as though hesitant to wake. Slowly, the hues deepened, winding in a soft spiral. The air thickened, humming faintly, carrying the scent of earth and smoke.

  Ariel lifted her head, breath caught in her chest. The aura coiled more tightly, green and red ribbons circling the urn with patient rhythm. Each loop gathered strength, the glow brightening, reflections flickering across the mantle and the walls. What began as a shimmer grew into a whirl, the pace deliberate, inexorable, as if the vessel was drawing in breath after centuries of stillness.

  The aura swirled faster, a vortex now, gentle but growing bolder. Shadows bent around it, bending toward the spiral. Ariel’s eyes widened, her tears drying on her cheeks as she stared, transfixed. The air trembled with the rising force, and still the colors danced, bound together in slow, relentless motion.

  The vortex grew fiercer, wind buffeting outward from the urn. Papers from the desk nearby lifted and spiraled, the curtains at the window straining as though in a storm. The room itself began to warp at the edges, furniture stretching and bending, the walls breathing with distortion. The colors brightened, green and red sharpening into blurs that spun faster and faster until they smeared together, a cyclone of light.

  Ariel raised her arm to shield her eyes, hair whipping around her face. The wind pushed harder, strong enough to drive her back a step, then another. Her muscles locked as she dug her heels into the rug, fighting to stay upright. The hum rose into a roar, the glow into a blaze, until all she could see was a storm of color.

  Then, with a shattering burst, the colors exploded out from the urn. The world around her fractured like glass, shards of apartment and light falling away into nothingness. The force seized her and hurled her upward. She soared, spinning, rising through endless dark shot through with red and green streaks. Up and up she flew, no ground, no sky. Only ascent.

  Her breath caught, and then, just as suddenly, her vision steadied. She stood once more in the grove, the scent of moss and earth around her, Fornaskr at her side, the stone tablet before her. Her body shook as though she had never left, her hand still hovering inches from the glowing surface.

  Slowly, she pulled her hand away from the tablet. The glow dimmed, but the forest around her no longer felt the same. An energy lingered in the air, thrumming through the roots and branches, pressing against her skin with a weight she hadn’t noticed before. She looked to Fornaskr and found his gaze fixed on her, curiosity and concern warring in his expression; his reaction to having seen her eyes blaze with green fire, her body stiffen as though seized by something beyond her.

  “Wha—” Ariel began, but the word broke into a gasp as searing pain tore through her back and chest. Her breath hitched, stolen in an instant, her body locking rigid. For a heartbeat she could only stare downward, disbelieving, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. Her vision swam as her eyes widened in horror.

  A vine, thick and alive, had punched through her from behind, its tip jutting from her chest. Blood dripped steadily down the length of it, pattering to the forest floor in slow, terrible rhythm. The air around her seemed to still.

  The forest was awaiting its next command.