Even with her hand in his and the lanterns gently drifting above, something inside her stirred—a tremble that wasn’t fear. It was... a knowing. Faint but certain.

  This world was peaceful, yes. Safe. But beneath its beauty, there was a heartbeat. A pulse.

  They sat beneath a tree with glass-like bark and silver leaves that shimmered like fallen stars. Between them, silence stretched. Not awkward—reverent. A quiet space neither of them rushed to fill.

  He reached for one of the floating orbs nearby. It hovered into his palm like a firefly, then opened, revealing an image: her, as a child, laughing under a crooked tree.

  She gasped softly.

  “I’ve kept this one,” he said. “I visit it often.”

  “What is this place?” she asked, her voice barely more than breath.

  He glanced up at the shifting sky. “It doesn’t belong to any map. It exists in the folds between memory and longing... a world shaped by what you carry deep within.”

  “Magic, then?” she asked, half teasing.

  He met her gaze with a quiet smile. “If you like. Or maybe something older. Truth, perhaps. The kind we forget how to see.”

  The orb dissolved into mist.

  She leaned back against the tree, letting its soft hum calm her. “So why am I here?”

  “Because your heart called it,” he replied.

  His words settled over her like falling petals. But even as she felt embraced by this world, something flickered at the edge of her awareness.

  She turned slightly. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

  His posture stiffened. “You felt it too.”

  “I thought it was just my mind playing tricks.”

  “No,” he said. “This place listens. But lately, it’s been... disturbed. As though something from outside is starting to bleed in.”

  She felt her breath catch.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “The scream,” she whispered.

  He nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just memory.”

  The meadow around them stilled. The breeze faltered. Somewhere in the distance, the music changed—fainter, slower.

  A whisper came again.

  “She mustn’t remember yet.”

  The same voice from before.

  Her fingers curled. “But I want to remember. I deserve to.”

  Even as she said it, something within her shivered. Not resistance—fear. Fear of what remembering would bring.

  Then, the ground beneath them pulsed.

  Not violently. Just once.

  Like a heartbeat.

  The boy grabbed her hand. “There’s someone you must meet.”

  The path shifted. Trees leaned aside. Flowers closed as if bowing. A new path opened—one that hadn’t existed moments before.

  It led to a clearing bathed in quiet silver light. At its center, a pond shimmered. But it held no water—only memories, swirling in soft hues.

  A woman stood by the pond, cloaked in light, Even with her hand in his and the lanterns gently drifting above, something inside her stirred—a tremble that wasn’t fear. It was... a knowing. Faint but certain.

  This world was peaceful, yes. Safe. But beneath its beauty, there was a heartbeat. A pulse.

  They sat beneath a tree with glass-like bark and silver leaves that shimmered like fallen stars. Between them, silence stretched. Not awkward—reverent. A quiet space neither of them rushed to fill.

  He reached for one of the floating orbs nearby. It hovered into his palm like a firefly, then opened, revealing an image: her, as a child, laughing under a crooked tree.

  She gasped softly.

  “I’ve kept this one,” he said. “I visit it often.”

  “What is this place?” she asked, her voice barely more than breath.

  He glanced up at the shifting sky. “It doesn’t belong to any map. It exists in the folds between memory and longing... a world shaped by what you carry deep within.”

  “Magic, then?” she asked, half teasing.

  He met her gaze with a quiet smile. “If you like. Or maybe something older. Truth, perhaps. The kind we forget how to see.”

  The orb dissolved into mist.

  She leaned back against the tree, letting its soft hum calm her. “So why am I here?”

  “Because your heart called it,” he replied.

  His words settled over her like falling petals. But even as she felt embraced by this world, something flickered at the edge of her awareness.

  She turned slightly. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

  His posture stiffened. “You felt it too.”

  “I thought it was just my mind playing tricks.”

  “No,” he said. “This place listens. But lately, it’s been... disturbed. As though something from outside is starting to bleed in.”

  She felt her breath catch.

  “The scream,” she whispered.

  He nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just memory.”

  The meadow around them stilled. The breeze faltered. Somewhere in the distance, the music changed—fainter, slower.

  A whisper came again.

  “She mustn’t remember yet.”

  The same voice from before.

  Her fingers curled. “But I want to remember. I deserve to.”

  Even as she said it, something within her shivered. Not resistance—fear. Fear of what remembering would bring.

  Then, the ground beneath them pulsed.

  Not violently. Just once.

  Like a heartbeat.

  The boy grabbed her hand. “There’s someone you must meet.”

  The path shifted. Trees leaned aside. Flowers closed as if bowing. A new path opened—one that hadn’t existed moments before.

  It led to a clearing bathed in quiet silver light. At its center, a pond shimmered. But it held no water—only memories, swirling in soft hues.

  A woman stood by the pond, cloaked in light, her face hidden beneath a hood. Yet the moment the girl saw her, her chest tightened.

  The woman turned toward them. “You’ve finally come.”

  “Who are you?” the girl asked.

  “I am the keeper of what you chose to forget,” the woman said. “But the time to choose again is close.”

  She gestured to the pond.

  Two paths revealed themselves—one bathed in gold, the other in shifting shadow.

  “One will show you everything,” the woman said. “The other will let you forget.”

  The girl took a breath. “I don’t want to forget anymore.”

  “Then prepare yourself. Because the truth has sharp edges.”

  The boy stood close beside her. “Whatever you choose, I’ll walk with you.”

  She looked into the pond.

  The surface changed—her aunt’s face. The village. Whispers. Fire. Her own reflection blurred by tears and smoke.

  And then, a voice—clear and cold, like it had waited years to be heard.

  “Witch.”

  The world darkened, just at the edges. Not fully. Not yet.

  But she didn’t back away.

  She stepped forward.

  Toward her past.