Emma waited.
The first day, she explored the perimeter of the Silent Wood. The border was sharp—one step inside, sound vanished. One step back, it returned. She tested it repeatedly, like a child with a strange toy, stepping in and out, in and out, watching the world go silent and loud, silent and loud.
The second day, she tried to read. But the silence was... loud. In its own way. It pressed on her ears, her thoughts, her very bones. She gave up and watched the forest instead.
The third day, Kael left.
"I have other clients," he said, packing his horse. "Other fools who need guiding to impossible places."
"You're just leaving us here?"
"You're at the edge. You have supplies. You can follow the road back if you need to." He mounted. "The Weaver's students come out when they're ready. Or not at all. Waiting won't change that."
He rode away without looking back.
Emma was alone with the silent forest and her thoughts.
On the fourth day, she tried to enter.
Just a few steps. Just to see.
The silence swallowed her. Her footsteps made no sound. Her breathing was mute. The world became a grey, still painting.
She saw things. Not with her eyes. With her memory. Or the forest's memory.
Her mother, young, laughing in a garden that wasn't the palace.
Her father, stern, teaching her to ride before the illness took him.
Herself, as a child, hiding from tutors in the library, reading books she wasn't supposed to read.
The queen's voice, giving instructions: "Watch him. Report everything. He's important."
The forest remembered. Everything. Everyone who had ever passed near it.
She retreated, gasping as sound returned—the wind, her heartbeat, the too-loud rush of blood in her ears.
That evening, she built a fire. It crackled normally here, at the edge. The flames danced. The wood popped and sighed.
She wondered what Evan was learning. What the Weaver was teaching him. What he would be when he came out.
If he came out.
On the fifth day, a rider approached. Not Kael. Someone else.
Emma stood, hand going to the knife at her belt.
The rider was a woman, dressed in royal messenger colors, her horse lathered from hard riding. She dismounted, bowing slightly.
"Lady Emma. Message from the palace."
Emma took the scroll. The seal was the queen's. Genuine this time—she knew the difference now.
She broke it open.
The message was brief:
"The disturbances increase. Small earthquakes in the lower levels. Magical fluctuations. The artifact's containment weakens. Return with Lord Carter IMMEDIATELY. His presence is required for reinforcement of the seals."
There was a postscript, in different ink, different hand:
"Julian's condition worsens. The healers say days, not weeks. If Evan can help... now would be the time."
Emma read it twice. Then looked at the silent forest.
Evan was in there. Learning. Becoming.
But Julian was dying. The palace was trembling. The Heart was waking.
And she had to decide: wait for Evan to finish his training? Or go in and drag him out?
She looked at the messenger. "When did this arrive?"
"Three days ago. I rode hard."
Three days. Julian might already be...
No. She wouldn't think that.
"Wait here," she told the messenger. "I'm going in."
The messenger's eyes widened. "Into the Silent Wood? But—"
"Wait HERE." Emma's voice was firm. "If I'm not back in two days... ride for the palace. Tell them we tried."
She packed a small bag—food, water, a blanket, a knife that probably wouldn't help. Then she walked to the edge of the forest.
The silence waited.
She took a deep breath.
And stepped in.
***