At dawn, the forest hummed.
Not with birds or wind, but with an almost musical vibration—like the trees themselves were singing a song older than memory.
Elira rose from her moss cot, the sound echoing softly through the wooden walls of her chamber.
She dressed quickly, slipping on the cloak and her satchel, and stepped outside into the dew-covered glade.
Waiting at the edge of the path was a woman—or something like one.
She was tall and willowy, her skin like bark polished smooth, her hair a cascade of leaves and vines.
Eyes like glowing amber studied Elira with curiosity, but no warmth.
"Elira Vane," she said, voice rustling like wind through branches.
"I am Mareel, steward of the Hollow Court. I am here to guide you."
"Guide me where?" Elira asked, cautious.
Mareel turned without answering and walked barefoot down a winding trail.
Elira followed.
They passed trees whose trunks were carved with symbols that shifted when she looked away.
Glowing mushrooms blinked in and out of existence.
A deer with wings watched them silently from the high grass.
The deeper they went, the stranger everything became.
The very air felt alive, as if breathing beside her.
At last, they reached a clearing where ancient stones jutted from the ground like forgotten teeth.
Vines grew in precise patterns across them—far too symmetrical to be natural.
"You are to clean and tend these stones," Mareel said. "They mark the edge of the Forest's favor."
Elira knelt beside one, brushing off the moss and grime.
"What does that mean?"
Mareel didn't answer.
Instead, the forest did.
"Elira…"
A voice—soft, honeyed, and unmistakably not Mareel's—drifted through the trees.
It was calling her name.
"Elira…"
She froze.
The voice was beautiful.
Familiar.
It sounded like her mother.
Exactly like her.
"Elira, come here, my love…"
She looked toward the trees.
Mareel snapped, "Do not listen. Keep your eyes down."
"But that voice—"
"It's not what it seems."
Mareel's tone sharpened.
"Rule three. Do not speak to the forest."
Elira swallowed her rising fear and looked back down at the stone.
But the voice came again.
Softer this time.
Closer.
"You don't belong here… he's lying to you…"
She squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed harder at the vines.
Eventually, the whispers faded.
By midday, Mareel led her back toward the Hollow Court, offering no comfort or explanation.
As they arrived, Elira looked up and saw the Beast watching from a high balcony of twisted branches.
His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes… they weren't just watching.
They were worried.