The wind howled like a voice lost to time. Ethan pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he followed Selene into the shadowed forest of Velmir's Reach. The trees here were older than memory, their trunks twisted and marked with ancient runes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Tavren had once called them the Whisperwoods, named for the way the leaves murmured secrets to those who dared walk beneath them.
It was here, Selene said, the path to the Tree of Realms would begin.
Behind them, a small party followed—four Ember Guard scouts, handpicked for their tracking and survival skills. But for most of this journey, it would be Ethan and Selene alone. The rest would return to Ashen after guiding them to the edge of the deep forest.
"You still haven't told me why you're helping," Ethan said quietly as they walked.
Selene didn't turn. "Because the Tree isn't just a doorway. It's a lock. And if Vaelen finds the key, there will be no Avalon left to protect."
Meanwhile, back in Ashen, Lyra stood atop the half-finished wall overlooking the southern road. New wagons arrived daily, carrying refugees, food, and building materials from Earth—thanks to Ethan's carefully constructed trading route.
But with new mouths came new tensions.
That morning, a fight had broken out over bread. The night before, someone had tried to steal iron from the forge. Whispers filled the air, the Serpent Court had spies in Ashen.
Mira returned from the northern outpost just past midday. Her face was tight, jaw clenched.
"We found a camp," she said. "Three men. Serpent Court markings hidden under their cloaks. They were watching the village."
"Were?" Lyra asked.
"Dead now."
Lyra exhaled. "It's starting."
Mira shook her head. "It's already begun. We're just catching up."
Deep in the forest, Selene led Ethan to a narrow stone stair half-swallowed by moss and time. It descended beneath the roots of a massive tree, whose trunk was wide enough to house an entire tavern.
"We're here," she said. "The first trial lies below."
Ethan hesitated. "Trial?"
She touched the carved symbols lining the entrance. "The Ancients built these paths to protect the Tree. Not everyone is meant to reach it."
They descended into the darkness. The air grew colder with every step, thick with moisture and something older—magic, Ethan realized. Not like the sharp electricity of machines or the practical enchantments of Earth's fables. This was deeper. Living.
At the bottom of the stairs stood a wide stone door.
A single symbol marked its center: an hourglass entwined by roots.
"The Trial of Time," Selene said softly. "It tests your past."
Before Ethan could ask what that meant, the door opened on its own.
Ethan stepped into light—blinding, white light.
When his eyes adjusted, he wasn't in the temple anymore.
He was on Earth.
Specifically, in his old apartment, the one he hadn't seen since he fell off that cliff what felt like a lifetime ago.
The dirty carpet. The cracked ceiling. The pile of unpaid bills. His phone on the table. And sitting across from him—
His mother.
He froze.
She looked exactly as he remembered her: tired but kind, hair pulled into a messy bun, still wearing that faded apron from the corner diner she used to work at.
"Ethan," she said, "why didn't you ask for help?"
He couldn't speak.
"You took all that debt. You hid everything. Why?"
"I didn't want you to worry," he whispered.
Her voice trembled. "But I always worried. I was your mother."
The room shimmered, shifting—
And now he was on the edge of the cliff again.
The loanshark was in front of him, shouting.
"You think you can just disappear?"
The shove.
The fall.
Ethan flinched—but didn't fall. Time froze. The moment held in stasis.
"Do you forgive him?" a voice asked.
It wasn't his mother. It wasn't the loanshark.
It was the God of Creation.
Ethan swallowed. "No. But I don't care about revenge. Not anymore."
The moment shattered like glass.
Ethan staggered back into the stone chamber, gasping for breath.
Selene caught him before he fell. "You survived."
"What the hell was that?" he said, still trembling.
"A test," she said. "Of memory, pain… and truth. If you had failed, you would have stayed there forever."
"Great," Ethan muttered. "So what's next?"
She gave a rare, faint smile. "You passed. The path continues."
The stone door rumbled open, revealing a vast underground tunnel veined with glowing roots that pulsed like veins beneath skin.
And in the distance faint, but unmistakable the sound of a heartbeat.
Back in Ashen, Lyra stood over a bound prisoner in the dungeons below the keep.
The man's name was Jarek, a newly arrived trader who had blended in with the caravans. Mira had caught him planting sigils beneath the granary—explosive runes, designed to ignite stores of food.
Lyra drew her dagger.
"You were going to starve us."
Jarek spat. "You're all already dead. The Serpent comes. You think you've won? You've just drawn his eyes."
"Then tell him this," Lyra said coldly, placing the tip of her blade to his throat. "We are not afraid. Not anymore."
Jarek laughed.
"You will be."