LUCY
That's where the tree house used to be. Where Doyle and I spent countless afternoons as children, and where, two years ago, on the exact night everything fell apart, I'd burned the whole structure down with my own hands, watching it collapse into embers while the full weight of his betrayal finally landed.
The tree itself has survived, scarred but standing, though the staff have clearly taken care to strip away every last trace of char and ruined wood from its lower branches. Only the faintest discoloration remains along the bark, a shadow of old smoke that no amount of scrubbing has ever quite managed to erase.
I stand there a moment, saying nothing.
"There was a tree house here," Tavric says beside me, his gaze following mine. "I remember seeing one. Last time I visited."
I blink, pulled abruptly out of the memory. "You visited Virelan before?"
Of course, that must be how he had known the pathways… but he will answer a direct question now.
