Briar leads us down the narrow, winding path. As she walks, she hums a song every child of Celentra knows, one older than grief, older than war. Her footsteps fall lightly on the moss, almost reverent.
Oh Kithias, dear Goddess of joy, Please bring us all we can bear. Oh Banthyas, our life is yours, Under our dear Celentrian sun. Oh Nithina, bringer of darkness, Let us go freely into the light. Oh, Ilina, grant us clearest sight. The Fates may craft our stories well, But how they are told is ours to wield.
The trees bend inward around us, forming an arch overhead as if trying to remember how to shelter us. I know this path, every twist, every long-buried root. It leads to Galagas, the village of the Festival of Trees. Once it pulsed with lantern glow and dancing feet.
Now the only sound is Briar's soft humming.
As we pass beneath the final low branch, the village opens before us.
I glance at Sahora. She has been too quiet. And Oliver watches her like she is a spark in a room full of dry tinder, terrified she will ignite or collapse or both.
"Sahora," I say softly, "do you see that tree over there?"
She lifts her gaze. Her brown eyes look tired, wary.
"You mean the giant glowing one?"
I stop.
"You see it glowing?"
"Yeah." She frowns. "All the trees here glow."
For a heartbeat, the world tilts.
"All of the trees used to glow," I whisper. "They stopped when time did. No one has seen their light in over a century." I step closer, searching her face. "You can see what is not there?"
She shrugs. "I thought they all did that."
"That one," I say, pointing to the enormous trunk at the village's heart, the one large enough to be mistaken for a house, "what color does it shine?"
"Soft pink," she murmurs. "Warm."
I stare at the tree. All I see is bark, old and gray.
But Sahora sees light, and the truth crashes through me like a wave.
"Sahora," I breathe, "that is Ilina's Root. The oldest tree in Celentra. When it glowed, it meant the world lived. It meant the gods were watching. It meant our Empress walked these lands."
"It is glowing now," she insists. "Brighter the longer we are here."
And as she steps forward, something impossible happens.
A tremor rolls through the earth, subtle, like a held breath finally released.
A single leaf detaches from a branch and drifts down.
The first falling leaf I have seen in a hundred years.
Oliver's voice comes soft and shaken. "Ami, what does that mean?"
I swallow. The truth is sacred. Terrifying.
"It means," I whisper, "Celentra remembers her. It means the world is waking up."
Sahora exhales, long and tired, full of resignation.
"I am getting tired of hearing that. I still do not understand why it is me."
"Sahora," I say gently, "have you not figured it out yet?"
"No," she says sharply. "I just know I have hurt people. I have killed people. I do not deserve to heal a whole world."
"You are meant to heal it," I say softly, "not because you deserve it, but because the world deserves to be saved."
I guide her deeper into the village.
Some people stand frozen mid-step, frozen mid-breath. Others move slowly, carrying grief like stones in their hands.
I stop beside Mina, her arms mid-spin, flames suspended forever above her palms.
"She used to be a fire dancer."
We walk on.
"He baked our best bread," I say of Harl, his tray held stiff in unmoving hands.
"She painted the brightest stars," I murmur, brushing Ginthia's shoulder, her fingers stained with frozen streaks of color.
I turn to Sahora.
"These are the people of Celentra. Their lives. Their stories. Their futures." My voice shakes. "It is not about deserving to save a world, Sahora. It is about knowing the world is worth saving."
She swallows hard. "I always wished for a softer world in Serlane, one that was kinder to its people. Is Celentra kind to its people when it is awake?"
"Celentra is a world that transforms with its people," I answer. "It shapes itself to fit those who dwell within it. Celentra loves its people, and they love it back."
She stares up at Ilina's Root, the heart of this sleeping world.
"Then I will fight for this world," she says, voice steady. "I will fight to awaken Celentra. To bring back Kathera."
As if hearing her vow, the massive tree at the village's center begins to glow.
Not faintly.
Not softly.
But alive, vibrant, pink light blooming through bark like a heartbeat returning to the world.