Morning in Atlas did not arrive with sunlight.
It arrived with sound.
The wind moved differently through the leaves. Birds fell silent—just a moment too long. And then came a step.
Not heavy.
Not light.
Measured.
Andre stood in front of the house and closed his eyes.
The barrier pulsed beneath his awareness. He felt it like a slow, steady heartbeat—stable, yet tense. Nothing was forcing its way through.
Not yet.
"Cale," he said quietly.
The boy stood a few steps away, gripping his wooden sword with both hands. Three years of training had shaped him—not into brute strength, but into form. His stance was steady. His gaze fixed on the forest ahead.
"I can hear it," Cale said.
That made Andre open his eyes.
"Hear what?" he asked.
Cale hesitated, brow furrowing as he searched for the right words.
"Not footsteps," he said finally. "It's more like… how the forest is breathing."
Andre did not reply.
This was not magic.
Nor was it trained perception.
It was something else.
He lifted his hand, and the barrier thickened slightly. The air itself seemed to grow heavier. Andre disliked doing this too often. The forest needed to grow used to them—not be pressed into submission.
"Keep your sword low," he said at last.
"You don't attack unless I tell you to."
Cale nodded.
Something emerged from between the trees.
It moved low to the ground, as though the forest itself had parted to allow its passage. Its body was covered in dark green, moss-like fur, threaded with thin, branch-shaped growths. Moisture glimmered between them, like dew clinging to early morning leaves.
It had no wings.
Instead, soft patches of light drifted slowly across its back—like sunbeams that had lost their way through the canopy and chosen to linger there.
Its eyes were large and pale, without pupils. They did not look.
They reflected.
The creature stopped precisely at the edge of the barrier.
Not attacking.
Simply watching.
Something stirred within Cale.
Not power.
Not mana.
Recognition.
He stepped forward.
"Cale," Andre warned.
"I know," the boy replied calmly.
He did not raise his sword.
He knelt.
Andre exhaled slowly. If this were a trap, the boy would already be dead.
But the forest did not react.
The creature tilted its head.
The moment stretched.
Then it stepped forward.
The barrier did not shatter.
It did not resist.
It yielded.
Andre felt his magic adjust—not by his will, but in response to something beyond it.
The creature approached Cale and drew in the air around him. The boy remained still.
"Hello," Cale said softly.
The creature closed its eyes.
And stayed.
Andre lowered his hand.
He understood.
This was not magic.
It was a choice.
The forest had not come to attack them.
It had come to judge them.