Fornaskr’s voice rang out across the central clearing, where the morning light slanted through the trees and struck the statue in a golden glow. The villagers’ footsteps whispered over the mossy ground as they gathered, the soft rustle of woven-leaf garments and vine-threaded sashes blending with the calls of forest birds overhead calling the village together at the base of the great statue. One by one the Sylari gathered, their faces solemn but shining with trust. Ariel stood at his side, her staff resting lightly in her hand as she looked out over the crowd.

  Fornaskr stepped forward and raised his voice.

  “My people. Today, Minnidottir and I leave this village. We journey into the broken world beyond, seeking to make it whole once more. The path before us is fraught with danger, yet we are ready to face whatever may come.” His gaze swept over them, steady and sure. “In my absence, I trust you to honor the old ways of the Sylari. Tend to the Eiranths daily, so that their light and life may continue to flow through the forest. Guard them, as they guard you.”

  A murmur of assent rippled through the gathered Sylari. Then, slowly, several villagers stepped forward.

  One elder carried a bundle of roasted roots wrapped in leaves, bowing low as she said, “May this keep your strength on the road ahead.”

  Another offered a roll of cloth dyed in soft greens and browns, whispering, “For warmth, and to help you blend into the wild.”

  A young boy approached shyly with a small sack of seeds, eyes wide as he stammered, “So the forest may follow you wherever you go.”

  Others brought parcels of dried herbs, simple tools, and camping supplies, each presenting their gift with a few words of blessing or encouragement. One by one they placed their offerings reverently at Ariel’s feet, gifts of love and hope.

  At last, a woman came forth with an ornate wooden bottle cradled carefully in her hands. She bowed her head low as she approached.

  “This is dewwater,” she explained, her voice hushed with reverence. “It is a precious gift, gathered only with patience and care. A single sip restores mind, body, and soul more swiftly than any poultice.” She lowered herself to one knee and held it up to Ariel.

  Ariel accepted the bottle gently, bowing in turn. “Thank you. I will carry it with care.” She slipped the bottle carefully into her pack, feeling the weight of its importance.

  When she lifted her eyes again, the villagers were still watching. Silent. Expectant. Their gazes pressed on her, waiting. A strange shiver ran through her, a flicker of déjà vu she could not place. It was as though she had stood before a crowd like this once before, somewhere beyond memory.

  She shook it off, reaching instead for one of the seeds she had been given. She rolled it between her fingers, grounding herself in its small, solid presence as the village held its breath.

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  Ariel drew in a steady breath and stepped forward.

  “I woke up only a few days ago with no memory of who I was or where I had come from,” she began, her voice carrying over the gathered Sylari. “I was scared and alone… and to top it off, I was attacked by a giant boar not long after opening my eyes.”

  Some nodded in solemn acknowledgment, for they already knew of her trial, yet they listened with quiet reverence as she pressed on.

  “Since that day, this village has been an anchor for me. You’ve given me shelter, companionship, and purpose. In such a short time, I feel as though I’ve become part of you.”

  Her gaze shifted upward to the towering statue. She paused, searching its stone-carved features. “I don’t know how or why this likeness of me stands here, in a world that feels alien to me. But…” She knelt at the base of the statue and pressed the seed into the soil; her staff laid beside her. “Even if I don’t understand everything right now, I know this much: this is where I’m supposed to be. Something called me here, away from Holly, for something bigger than both of us.”

  She rose to her feet and stepped back a few paces. With a flick of her hand, the staff leapt to her grasp. The runes along its length flared bright as she focused, and the seed sprouted in an instant. Vines surged upward with a low creak, the scent of fresh earth filling the air as soil shifted and roots twisted.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd as the living tendrils climbed, twining in a double helix around the statue until they reached the carved bloom in its hand. As they encircled it, a violet flower unfurled, its silver-veined petals pulsing with quiet life. A miniature Eiranth, vibrant and new.

  Ariel gazed at it with wonder and whispered, “I vow to heal this dying world. To root out the Acolytes who corrupt it, and to destroy Gloymr, so that his oblivion can never take hold.”

  She turned back toward the villagers—and saw them all kneeling, heads bowed in reverence. Her cheeks warmed, and she lifted a hand awkwardly. “You don’t have to kneel every time I speak, you know.”

  Fornaskr chuckled, striding up to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Then perhaps you should stop being so inspiring.”

  Ariel laughed softly and placed her hand on his shoulder in return. She looked back up at the newly grown Eiranth bloom, those self-same feelings of familiarity washing over her once more. The sensation had become all too common, yet no less troubling as she struggled to unravel the mysteries that still plagued her. After a moment, she squeezed Fornaskr’s shoulder and gave a small nod.

  Together, they turned to face the gathered Sylari. The villagers stirred with emotion, some with tears glistening, others raising their hands in blessing, while a few called out quiet words of courage and hope. The air thrummed with a mixture of sorrow and pride, a send-off woven with reverence.

  With quiet words and steady smiles, they offered their goodbyes. Then, side by side, they made their way toward the path leading to the cliffside.

  Toward the horizon and the volcanic wastes beyond.

  “Fucking listen to me! She’s seeing the same things I am! Exactly how I’m seeing them…She’s also talking about music and threads again! She hasn’t done that in years! Something is going on here. It’s too much of a coincidence….

  J…..! Op…ur eyes f..r a… dam… …cond! …al…to…h…! I’m not the only…”

  ……………….

  “Protector/Predictor/Progenitor. You will not interfere…”