Silence.
That was the first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes. The whispers were gone. The forest was gone.
Leira stood in a room she didn't recognize, yet somehow did.
The air carried the faint scent of smoke and rain, the kind that lingered long after a storm had passed. The light was dim, coming through half drawn curtains, pale and gold like a memory of dawn. Dust floated through it in slow spirals, soft and weightless.
Her fingers brushed over the edge of a table. Wooden. Smooth. Worn down by years of use. There was a chipped mug sitting on it, a ring of dried tea staining the surface beneath it. A book lay open beside it, a familiar crease along the spine, a flower pressed between the pages.
She didn't need to read the words to know them.
"I've been here before," she whispered.
Her own voice sounded foreign in the stillness.
The room was small, cozy even, with shelves crowded by books and jars and half-burned candles. The kind of space that felt lived in, loved in. There was a painting hung crookedly above the hearth, a blur of two figures standing beneath a tree. Their faces were faded, smudged by time, but the way their hands touched… she knew that posture. She had stood like that once.
Her chest tightened.
She turned slowly toward the window.
A man stood there, his back to her.
The sight rooted her in place. His shoulders were broad, wrapped in a dark cloak, hair falling loosely to his nape. The faint outline of his reflection glimmered in the windowpane, familiar and yet wrong.
"Kael?" she breathed.
He didn't turn.
Her heart beat faster. "Kael?"
This time, when he spoke, the voice that answered wasn't entirely his. It carried another tone beneath it, deeper, rougher, threaded with something almost tender.
"You're late."
Leira froze. The world around her seemed to ripple slightly, like heat rising from stone.
"I… I don't understand." Her voice felt smaller now. "What is this place?"
He turned his head slightly, enough for her to see the edge of his face, the curve of his jaw, the corner of a smile she thought she'd forgotten.
"You promised me you wouldn't forget," he said.
Her breath caught.
That voice. That sentence. It didn't belong to Kael. It didn't belong to anyone she could clearly name, but it lived inside her like a scar.
She took a step forward. The floorboards creaked under her boots. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer.
She could hear something outside, the faint hum of wind through leaves, the drip of water against stone. The sound of the Grove breathing, just beyond these walls.
This wasn't real. She knew that. But it felt real, the warmth of the air, the weight of her heartbeat, the ache rising in her throat.
"Tell me," she whispered again.
The man turned.
And her world cracked.
For a moment, it was Kael, his gray eyes, his scar, his quiet sadness. Then, in a blink, the image shifted. His face flickered like a reflection in broken glass, changing to someone else entirely. A different smile. Softer eyes. A man she couldn't name but somehow remembered.
Cassian.
Her lips parted, the name escaping like a prayer she didn't know she'd remembered.
He smiled faintly, the kind that carried more sorrow than warmth. "You remember."
Leira took another step, her fingers trembling. "No," she said, voice shaking. "I don't. I don't remember anything."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like someone looking at a ghost. "Then why are you crying?"
Leira hadn't noticed the tears until then, the warmth of them on her cheeks.
She wiped at them quickly, anger flashing beneath the confusion. "This isn't real. You're not real."
He took a step closer, slow, unhurried. "If I'm not real, why does it hurt?"
The air around them thickened, every breath harder to take. The shadows along the walls deepened, curling like smoke.
"Stop," she whispered, backing away. "I said stop!"
But he only smiled, a flicker of both men now, Kael's steadiness, Cassian's warmth, two halves of something she couldn't piece together.
"You've lived a thousand lives trying to forget," he said softly. "And yet you always come back to this."
"To what?" she asked, barely able to breathe.
His eyes met hers. "To love. To ruin."
The words sent a chill through her. The light in the room dimmed, flickering as though the candles were choking on their own smoke.
The man's face blurred again, features melting between Kael and Cassian like shifting water. She could feel the Grove pressing at her mind now, pushing her to look closer, to remember.
But she couldn't. Not yet.
She lifted her hand slowly, her heart pounding in her throat. "If this is another lie," she whispered, "then it ends now."
Her fingers brushed his chest.
The world shattered.
The walls split open with a sound like thunder, the floor dissolving beneath her feet. The warmth vanished, replaced by biting cold. The man's face fractured, one half Kael, one half Cassian, before both faded into light.
Then came the voice.
Soft. Feminine. Familiar in a way that made her bones ache.
"Remember who you are."
Leira gasped, stumbling back into the nothingness. The light bent around her, twisting into shapes she couldn't hold.
"Who are you?" she cried out.
The voice only whispered again, closer this time.
"You are…"
The word that followed wasn't one she understood, not truly. But the sound of it made her mark burn, searing against her skin like molten gold.
She clutched her wrist, falling to her knees. "Stop it!"
The air pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and the name echoed again, surrounding her, filling her lungs, her mind, her blood.
She knew it was her name, the way her mark burned told her so, but she never truly heard it.
The sound broke apart before it reached her, swallowed by the Grove itself.
What lingered wasn't the word, but the ache of it, an echo without sound, wrapping around her like light and sorrow.
She couldn't breathe.
Then silence returned.
Leira opened her eyes.
The house was gone. The man was gone.
She was back in the forest, or what remained of it. The trees loomed around her, their bark slick with mist. The air smelled like iron and rain.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. She pressed a hand to her wrist, the mark still glowed faintly, soft and golden beneath her skin.
"What are you doing to me…" she whispered.
The Grove didn't answer.
Somewhere behind her, she thought she heard Kael calling her name, his voice distant, muffled, as if from another world.
Leira looked around, disoriented, every direction the same. The whispers had quieted now, but the air still hummed with the echo of that name, her name, carved into her bones like a secret waiting to be remembered.
She took a shaky breath and forced herself to stand.
Her legs felt weak, her thoughts heavier still. The Grove wasn't done. This was only the beginning.
Above her, the trees swayed, whispering words she couldn't quite catch.
She didn't notice the faint shimmer of light that followed her, a remnant of the illusion still clinging to her shadow, watching, waiting.
The Grove had what it wanted.
It had reminded her just enough.