Chapter Seven: Leaves of Memory

The days passed slowly in the Hollow Court.

Elira woke at dawn, worked beside Mareel through enchanted glades and whispering stones, then returned to her chamber beneath the tree at night—tired, aching, and brimming with questions.

The forest still called to her sometimes, always in familiar voices. Her father. Her mother. Once, even her younger self.

But she did not answer.

And slowly, the whispers began to lose their power.

She learned that the vines which crept across the Court's stones shifted with the moon's phases.

That the glowing mushrooms could be brewed into dream-tonics.

That not all forest creatures were beasts—some were spirits, ancient and half-forgotten, who watched her with curious eyes from the roots of hollowed trees.

Still, none of it explained the truth about the Beast—or what he had once been.

Until the journal.

It was hidden in a drawer beneath her cot, bound in cracked leather and sealed with a ribbon of woven silver.

No name, no date.

Just a single emblem carved into the front—a crest she didn't recognize: a sun partially eclipsed by a crescent moon.

Curious, Elira untied the ribbon and opened the first page.

"Let it be known that I, Sir Caelum Drest, of the Order of the Dawn Flame, set forth today into the Elderwood in search of the Heartwood's power…"

Her breath caught.

Caelum Drest.

The name pulsed in her mind like a spark of lightning.

The Beast had a name.

She flipped through the pages.

Sketches of the forest.

Notes on ancient glyphs.

Ramblings about forbidden magic and legends of immortality.

Toward the back, the entries grew more erratic—ink smudged, words repeated, drawings that no longer looked like plants or symbols, but… faces.

Twisted.

Screaming.

She read one passage aloud, her voice trembling.

"The forest knows my name now.

I hear it in the leaves.

It speaks in my mother's voice.

In hers.

The one I lost.

Is this what the others felt?

Is this how they became beasts?"

"Elira."

She gasped and slammed the journal shut.

The Beast—Caelum—stood in the doorway.

He was not wearing his cloak of shadows tonight.

Just fur and scars and a silence that felt ancient.

"You found it," he said quietly, his voice not angry… but not surprised.

Elira stood.

"Why didn't you tell me your name?"

"Because names have power here.

And I've already lost enough."

She held the journal tightly.

"You were a knight."

"I was a fool."

He stepped into the room, and though his claws still gleamed, and his horns cast sharp shadows across the floor, Elira didn't flinch.

"I wanted to save someone too," he said. "Once."

Their eyes met.

In that moment, the distance between them felt like something else—something fragile, and almost human.