“Vanilla latte, extra shot please! Hmm? Yeah, I’m feeling great, why do you ask?”

  Ariel and Fornaskr left the village in the hush of early light, their packs heavy with the gifts of the Sylari. Ariel carried her staff loosely in her hand, its runes faintly glowing in rhythm with her steps. The path beneath them wound gently through the forest, opening gradually toward the cliffside where the land broke off into open sky.

  For a time, neither spoke. The only sounds were the whisper of wind through leaves, the occasional rustling in the bushes and the muted creak of their packs. At last, Fornaskr broke the silence. “You spoke well back there. The village believes in you now more than ever.”

  Ariel smiled faintly, eyes tracing the canopy above. “I don’t know if I believe in myself the same way. But… I meant what I said. This feels like where I’m supposed to be, even if I don’t understand it yet.”

  Fornaskr nodded, adjusting the strap of his pack. “Purpose is not always clear at the beginning of a journey. It reveals itself step by step.”

  She looked down at the forest floor, her grip tightening on the staff. “I just hope those steps lead me back to Holly. That every challenge we face brings me closer to her.”

  They walked in companionable silence for a stretch, the forest thinning until they could hear the faint roar of wind rushing past the cliff. Ariel’s heart quickened as the trees gave way, the ground opening toward the horizon where the volcanic wastes loomed across the vast gap.

  She stopped and took in the view: jagged peaks blackened with ash, faint plumes of smoke coiling upward, and a dull red glow that pulsed faintly like a distant heartbeat. Fornaskr came to stand beside her, his face unreadable as he gazed outward.

  “It looks unforgiving,” he said quietly.

  “Good,” Ariel replied, surprising herself with the steel in her tone. “So am I.”

  Fornaskr glanced at her, then let out a small laugh. “Then it seems the two of you are well matched—the wastes and Minnidottir.”

  She smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s hope so.”

  Together they stood at the edge, the forest at their backs, the volcanic island before them, and the unknown stretching in between.

  Fornaskr’s gaze swept across the yawning chasm of sky. “How do you plan on getting us across?” he asked, his voice measured but curious.

  Ariel looked down at the earth beneath her boots, then lifted her eyes to the volcanic landmass in the distance. “I have a plan,” she said firmly. “Stand back.”

  Fornaskr obeyed, stepping aside as Ariel slid her pack from her shoulders. She pulled free the sack of seeds gifted to her, opening it carefully. Taking a small handful, she pressed them into the soil at her feet, patting the earth closed before slipping the sack back into her pack.

  Her hand closed around the staff, raising it before her. The runes along its length began to glow brighter, pulsing with raw energy. The wind whipped suddenly around her, tugging at her hair and cloak. Ariel’s feet lifted from the ground as she hovered, her expression serene.

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  She released her hold, and the staff floated free, orbiting slowly around her. Its runes flared with dazzling light. Ariel’s eyes flashed a vivid green, and she slipped into a trance-like state. Extending both hands before her, she began to chant, her voice steady and melodic—a poetic command to the seeds to grow, to reach, to weave a bridge of living wood across the void.

  The ground shuddered beneath them as the seeds responded. Thick vines erupted upward, twisting together with groaning creaks. Branches burst forth, intertwining with roots that shot out like spears across the gap. With unstoppable momentum, the living mass surged outward, tightening and weaving as they moved. The scent of fresh earth and sap filled the air as the structure extended, green and strong, until it spanned the entire chasm.

  At last, the rumbling ceased. Before them stretched a wide bridge of vines, branches, and roots, arched gracefully across the abyss to the volcanic wastes beyond.

  Ariel slowly drifted back down, her boots finding the ground as the fire faded from her eyes. The staff clattered to the earth beside her, and as the trance released its hold, she stumbled and fell backward, breath ragged.

  Fornaskr rushed to her side. “Ariel!”

  She nodded quickly, though her voice was weak. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

  Fornaskr glanced from the living bridge to her pale face, shaking his head with a wry smile. “You certainly know how to make a bridge. But you need to rest before we set foot on it.”

  He dug into his pack and pulled free a bundle of roasted roots, handing her a few. “Eat. It will help.”

  Ariel accepted and nibbled slowly, savoring the earthy taste as warmth spread faintly through her chest. For a time they sat in silence, the wind rushing across the chasm below.

  Finally Fornaskr spoke, his tone thoughtful. “If every island has a heart, as the Wisp said, what do you think we’ll find here? What would serve as the core of a land like this?”

  Ariel chewed quietly, considering. “Something that defines it. The Eiranth was the heart of the forest. Here… maybe it’s the fire itself. A volcano’s flame, a source of heat and destruction. Or perhaps some kind of stone, forged from the mountain’s heart.”

  “Or the creatures that dwell here,” Fornaskr added. “Something ancient that thrives in fire and ash, bound to this place.”

  Ariel nodded, her fingers brushing absently over the runes of her staff. “Whatever it is, it’ll be corrupted, twisted. We’ll need to set it right if the island is to survive.”

  Fornaskr leaned back on his hands, gazing across the gap at the volcanic peaks. “Then let us hope we are equal to the task.”

  Ariel finished the last bite of roasted root, strength returning to her limbs. She stood, dusting herself off, and bent to pick up her staff. Fornaskr repacked his bag and joined her as they turned toward the bridge.

  But before they could set foot on it, a rustling stirred in the bushes behind them. Ariel spun, her pulse spiking with the memory of the monstrous boar that had once charged from the undergrowth. Instinctively, she flicked her wrist and a vine lashed out from the soil, cracking against the foliage.

  A sharp shriek rang out, and a streak of red fur darted deep into the forest shadows before vanishing from sight.

  Ariel held her stance a moment longer, then exhaled, scanning the tree line to ensure it wasn’t circling back. Satisfied, she glanced at Fornaskr. He only shrugged, lips twitching faintly. “Whatever it was, it seems you scared it off.”

  With wary glances still cast behind them, they stepped onto the bridge. It was as sturdy as it appeared, each vine and branch woven so tightly it barely shifted beneath their weight.

  “Impressive craftsmanship,” Fornaskr remarked, his tone tinged with admiration.

  Ariel’s cheeks warmed, a shy smile crossing her lips. “Thank you.”

  They finished the crossing in silence, the endless sky below, until at last their boots struck solid stone once more. Before them stretched the jagged crags of the Volcanic Wastes. Heat rolled toward them in faint waves, carrying the smell of ash and brimstone. Ariel tightened her grip on the staff as Fornaskr squared his shoulders. Together they stepped onto the blackened rock, the forest’s green far behind them, and the promise of fire, trial, and revelation waiting ahead.