The clearing was unrecognizable.

  The explosion had torn a crater into the earth, ten feet deep and twice as wide, its edges still smoking. Blackened roots curled like fingers around the rim, their ends split and weeping sap. Charred pieces of bark and brittle glass littered the forest floor, reflecting dim flecks of dying light.

  The group stood at the edge, quiet. The instinct to run had passed, but none of them moved. Ivy was the first to step forward. She slowly descended into the crater, boots crunching on burnt earth. The soil was warm beneath her feet, pulsing faintly—not with corruption, but with something … quieter. Fading.

  At the center of the crater, resting in a nest of cooled embers, lay the stone. It was about the size of a child’s fist, pale gray and veined with deep green. A faint, rhythmic glow pulsed just beneath its surface—like a distant heartbeat underwater.

  Ivy knelt beside it, hesitating. Then reached out and lifted it carefully into her hands. It was warm. She stared at it for a long moment, brow furrowed, but the stone offered no answers.

  Behind her, the forest exhaled.

  A breeze stirred the leaves.

  A bird called, hesitant.

  The tension in the trees eased—not completely, but enough. The pulse of life had returned. Wounded, but alive.

  Ivy exhaled slowly and pressed her free hand to the ground.

  The healing began—soft green light seeping from her fingertips into the earth. Roots reknit. Burnt moss started to regrow in tiny tendrils. The ash blew gently away as if carried by unseen wings. She could only hope that the rest of the forest would recover like this, too.

  Kaelthar stepped down beside her, silent. Nirva remained above, eyes scanning the trees with her usual vigilance. Neeko perched on a broken root, his ears low, unusually quiet.

  After a time, Nirva finally spoke, “We learned nothing.”

  Kaelthar didn’t look at her. “We learned something.”

  Nirva glanced at him. “That it’s worse than we thought?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Ivy stood, still cradling the stone. Her eyes were distant, her voice softer than before. “He remembered his brother … even through the corruption.”

  “Barely,” Nirva replied. “Just a name and a plea. The rest of him was gone.”

  Neeko shuffled forward, looking at the stone in Ivy’s hands. “Maybe he couldn’t say more. Maybe he wasn’t allowed.”

  “Allowed?” Ivy echoed, glancing at him.

  He shrugged. “If something’s controlling it all … maybe it listens. Maybe it decides what gets out.” That silence returned.

  Ivy looked down at the stone. Its pulse continued—quiet, patient, alive.

  “No answers,” she whispered. “But a place to start.”

  Kaelthar looked at her. “Dravemont.”

  She nodded. “We find his brother. We follow what’s left.” Above them, the forest rustled gently—as if listening. As if waiting. And then, wordlessly, they turned and left the clearing behind. The crater remained.

  The stone pulsed once in Ivy’s hand—slower, deeper. Not warning … but remembering. She looked down, then followed the rest of her group. And beneath the soil, in places the light could not reach, something old and rooted shifted.

  ? ? ?

  Neeko’s ears twitched, his head snapping back over his shoulder. A faint sound reached him. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. But then it came again—soft, distant laughter, light as air and carried on the breeze.

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  His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. There were no children in this part of the forest—he was certain of it, not after everything they had witnessed. No villages lay close enough, and no travelers wandered this deep. So where, then, had the laughter come from?

  Faint whispers slithered through the leaves again. This time, he learned that they were too soft to hear, but not too soft to feel. No one else seemed to hear them, anyway. They tugged at a memory Neeko didn’t know he had, and then they were gone.

  Nothing.

  Just wind and trees, he had long gotten used to.

  He clung to Ivy’s shoulder a little tighter, his bright eyes flicking once more behind them before settling into silence. Perhaps it was all in his head, after all.

  ? ? ?

  Twilight fell gently as they made their way back toward the Sanctuary. The air was cooler now, tinged with the scent of moss and damp wood. Fireflies blinked lazily in the undergrowth, and the earth beneath their feet softened with each step—inviting, alive, as if recognizing Ivy’s return.

  She walked ahead with a quiet ease, bare feet moving as though the path had grown to meet her. Ivy hadn’t found all the answers she was searching for, nor had she saved the forest completely. What she had done today was only the beginning, but she was closer than before, and for now, that was enough.

  More than that, she wasn’t alone. She had friends she could trust—Nirva, of course, and then there was Neeko. And now, Kaelthar had also joined them. His story was still a mystery, his past hidden behind quiet eyes, but the wisdom in his voice was clear. Whatever had drawn him into the forest, Ivy couldn’t say, yet she was grateful for it.

  Ivy glanced at him, as if looking in his direction would reveal more about the dragonborn himself. His staff tapped softly against the ground, more walking stick than weapon now. The last of the ash clung to his cloak, but he moved without weariness—calm, silent, present.

  Nirva walked slightly behind, and her gaze rested sharply on Kaelthar’s back, too. Her grip on her staff remained light, but her posture told another story—measured, mistrustful. She was counting his steps. Watching for missteps.

  All at once, Kaelthar came to a halt, his steps falling silent on the forest floor. Ivy and Nirva stopped just behind him, exchanging a glance before turning their attention to him. He looked at the distant treeline before he finally spoke.

  “There’s a village not far from here,” he said, “If I’m not mistaken, I can reach it before dusk. I should be able to find shelter there for the night, and you may meet me, so we can head—”

  “No,” Ivy said as she shook her head. After everything he had done for them, the thought of him leaving felt wrong. He wasn’t just a passing ally anymore—he was their friend, even if Nirva might not admit it yet. “Kaelthar, you must stay with us. I insist. There’s more than enough room at the sanctuary, and you shouldn’t have to wander off alone after all that’s happened.”

  From the corner of her eye, she caught Nirva’s expression. The druid’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. The look in her eyes was clear enough—she wasn’t pleased with the idea. Still, he had stood beside them when they needed him most, and she wouldn’t let him face the night alone.

  He paused slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I—”

  “Please!” Ivy interrupted, turning to walk backward as she looked up at him. Her smile softened her words. “Intrude. Stay. We have more space than we know what to do with, and the forest always provides … especially to a friend.”

  Kaelthar didn’t answer right away. He looked at her for a long moment, as if he was weighing his options, and then he dipped his head slightly.

  “I will, then. For a time.”

  From Ivy’s shoulder, Neeko bounded across the gap between them and landed lightly on Kaelthar’s. The dragonborn blinked but didn’t flinch. He appeared to be already getting used to the strange little creature.

  “I like him,” Neeko declared proudly. “He’s sturdy. Like a tree.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t splinter like one,” Nirva muttered, her voice just loud enough to hear.

  The forest parted as they reached the edge of the grove, and the light of the Sanctuary spilled forth—golden, warm, and alive. The great tree stood in the center, its trunk glowing faintly, its roots pulsing with ancient magic like the heartbeat of the forest itself. This part of the forest was still untouched by the corruption. Everything here looked just as it had a few weeks ago—bright, alive, and peaceful. Ivy let out a quiet sigh, her gaze softening as she took it in. She could only hope that soon, the rest of the forest would look like this again.

  The moment Kaelthar stepped into the threshold, a wave of energy washed over him—subtle, but unmistakable. A cleansing warmth sank into his bones, like water washing away the echo of fire. He looked up at the Sanctuary tree, silent admiration softening the lines of his face.

  Neeko perched proudly on his shoulder. “Told you. Friend of the forest.”

  Ivy smiled beside him, her hand brushing against the bark as they passed beneath its protective boughs. Behind them, Nirva lingered just a moment longer at the threshold.

  Her eyes swept over the treeline one last time—just in case the forest had brought back more than they’d intended, and then she stepped through. The grove sealed behind them. They were safe, from what she could see. Or, at the very least, so she thought … blissfully unaware that far below the roots of the Sanctuary, in dark soil not yet touched by light, something listened. And waited for the right time to come out.