NOVPUBThey followed the Grathiln in a slow curve through the trees.
The path wasn't clear. It wasn't even a path. Just the direction the creature moved in, bending branches aside with long limbs that didn't seem to feel weight or cold.
The ground didn't crunch under its feet. It didn't make noise at all, really. Like the forest had decided it was part of the design.
Lindarion walked behind it. Third in line. Ren led. Lira followed close behind her. Ardan and Meren flanked a bit wider, keeping distance.
Not out of fear. Just practicality. It didn't feel like the kind of thing you wanted brushing against your coat.
'Still not sure if this is an escort or a trap.'
The Grathiln's back was bent, not from pain, just age maybe. Its bark-body shimmered faintly in places where sap caught the morning light. No moss. No rot. But every step looked a thousand years old.
Ren didn't talk. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable.
'Of course she's not surprised by walking trees.'
Lira had that same unreadable expression again. Calm. But watching. Always watching. Her hand stayed near the edge of her coat, but not quite touching anything.
The forest grew darker.
Not thicker. Not denser.
Just… darker.
Like the sun had agreed to step back for a moment.
Lindarion exhaled slowly.
No breath fog.
Too much mana in the air now. Thick and old.
It clung to his skin like dust. Not unpleasant. But aware.
Behind him, Meren whispered something. Probably to Ardan. The response was a soft grunt. Maybe agreement. Maybe just disapproval at the fact they were following an eight-foot leaf-boned grandpa deeper into the unknown.
They came into a clearing.
It wasn't big.
Just wide enough to hold breath.
At the center stood a second Grathiln. Taller. Stiller.
This one didn't move.
Its bark was black. Not rotted, but hardened. Like obsidian with grain. Branches arched from its shoulders like a twisted crown. Moss hung from one side, draped like a scarf.
Its eyes opened.
They weren't eyes.
Just hollows filled with slow green glow, like the last echo of a candle trapped in glass.
Ren stopped.
Didn't bow.
Didn't speak.
Just tilted her head slightly.
The Grathiln spoke.
The sound wasn't speech.
It was like wind moving through hollowed wood, and somehow that became words.
"You walk with old names."
Lindarion's spine went stiff.
The sound hadn't gone into his ears. It went straight to the center of his chest.
Ren turned slightly. Her eyes flicked toward him.
Lira didn't move.
The voice came again.
"You bear the blood of the Sunbound. Sunblade. Named of Eldorath."
Meren made a small noise. Not quite a gasp. More like a confused wheeze.
Ardan didn't react.
Of course he didn't.
'So much for walking quietly.'
Lindarion stepped forward once. Only once. His hands didn't move. His posture didn't shift.
He looked up.
"I didn't ask to be recognized…sir..? What exactly do you mean?"
The Grathiln's branches rustled.
Not wind. Not breeze.
Laughter. Maybe.
"You shine regardless."
'Doesn't really answer my question.'
Lira spoke next.
"Do you know him?"
The Grathiln's glow pulsed faintly.
"We remember."
That was all.
No title. No bow.
Just memory of…something?
'What the hell does it remember?'
Lindarion felt the weight of that word settle across his shoulders like a second cloak.
He didn't speak again.
Not yet.
He just listened.
And waited for whatever came next.
—
The clearing didn't move.
No wind. No animal sounds. Not even the shift of leaves underfoot.
Just them. The Grathiln. And that green-lit stare that didn't blink.
Lindarion didn't look away.
The silence stretched too long for comfort. But not long enough for fear. Just enough to make the air feel thinner.
Ren spoke, finally.
"Does remembering mean you'll help us?"
The Grathiln didn't tilt its head. Didn't shift weight. But something in the glow of its eyes changed. Brighter, maybe. Or just deeper.
"You walk paths not drawn. Roads half-closed. Blood wakes old roots."
Meren muttered behind Lindarion, "Cool. That's totally a yes."
Lira's hand lifted. Just slightly. Enough for him to shut up again.
The Grathiln turned its face, if that was even the right word, to Lindarion.
"We do not help," it said.
Ren's mouth opened like she had something sharp to say. Then closed it again.
Lindarion stayed quiet.
"We observe," the voice continued. "We wait. We remember. And when the remembering is strong enough… we choose a side."
He stepped forward again. Just one pace.
"We didn't come to ask for help…"
The Grathiln's eyes flickered.
"No. You did not."
Then it looked to Lira. The change was subtle. Like watching a shadow lean.
"You carry forge-sap and iron-memory. Your hands bind flame and oath."
Lira blinked. Her face didn't change, but her hand at her side curled just once. Thumb to palm. Then loose again.
"I carry what I made," she said.
The Grathiln nodded. Or did something that might have been one.
"Then we grant you this."
It lifted one long limb. Branches curled inward like a hand beckoning.
Another Grathiln stepped from the tree line.
Smaller. Younger. If that word applied. Its bark was pale. Its eyes less steady.
It carried something wrapped in dull green cloth.
No one spoke.
The younger Grathiln knelt. Set the bundle down at Lira's feet. Then backed away without a word.
The leader looked at her again.
"You forged steel from broken season. We give you back the piece you lost."
Lira didn't move right away.
Ren whispered, "Okay that's actually kind of cool."
Meren leaned sideways. "Is it a weapon?"
"Is it cursed?" Ardan asked flatly.
Lira stepped forward and knelt.
She unwrapped the cloth slowly.
Inside was a hilt. No blade. Not broken. Just missing.
The hilt shimmered faintly with embedded ore, something between silver and green glass.
Lindarion leaned forward slightly.
'That's not normal metal.'
Lira stood again. Holding it in one hand. Her fingers curled around it like it had never left.
The Grathiln said nothing else.
Just stood.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lindarion didn't ask what the hilt meant.
He knew better than to ask someone about pieces of their past while it was still unfolding in their hands.
Instead, he stepped forward. Just enough to stand even with Lira.
"Is this the end of the road?" he asked the Grathiln.
A long pause.
"No," the voice said.
Another pause.
"The road just now begins."
The branches rustled again.
Lindarion wasn't sure if that meant warning or blessing.
He didn't ask.
He just nodded once. n𝚘𝚟𝚙𝚞𝚋.𝚌o𝚖
Then turned toward the path behind him.
They wouldn't stay long.
He could feel it.
The forest had given what it would.
And it had already begun remembering too much.
