The Grove Where Stars Fell

The path beyond the ancient tree felt different.

Quieter. Thicker. Not just with vines or roots, but with presence.

As the Guide stepped forward, even the light changed—softening into a dim glow that shimmered along the moss and bark like faint echoes of stardust. The forest here no longer whispered. It watched.

Cira moved beside Elian, her steps slower now, as if the very air weighed heavier on her skin. She glanced toward him. His face was unreadable—quiet, serious—but the mark beneath his shirt flickered faintly, like a second heartbeat.

The Guide didn't speak for a long time.

Only when they reached a grove—half-enclosed by weeping trees whose silver leaves rustled like bells—did they stop.

"This place," 

The Guide said at last, voice barely above a breath,

"has not been touched by time. The Grove remembers everything. It's where the stars first fell."

Cira's gaze swept over the clearing. A strange light lingered between the trees, as if night and day existed here at once. Petals floated in the air. The ground sparkled faintly beneath a layer of soft dew that never dried.

Elian stepped forward, hand unconsciously over his chest. "This is where it happened, isn't it?"

The Guide gave the smallest nod. "This tree holds the first seal—the beginning of what was taken."

Elian's breath caught, but before he could ask more, a sound—like a chord struck from deep within the earth—vibrated through the grove.

Cira gasped.

Her vision blurred.

The ground tilted.

And then—

She saw it.

Not through her eyes, but through something deeper. A memory that didn't belong to her—but had always waited for her.

Snow. A child standing alone beneath falling stars. A woman cloaked in sorrow. A voice chanting something ancient.

Then a flash—

Golden eyes watching.

Then darkness swallowing the memory like ink spilled across a page.

Cira stumbled, clutching her head. "Elian—!"

Her voice cracked as if it came from far away.

Elian turned just in time to catch her as her knees gave out. She collapsed into his arms, eyes fluttering shut, a faint shimmer of silver dust glowing from her skin.

"Cira!" Elian knelt, holding her gently, his arms tense, eyes wide with panic.

The Guide knelt beside them. "The Grove is responding. She's seeing what was never meant to be seen."

"Why her?" Elian whispered. "Why not me?"

"She holds the other half," the Guide said softly. "The soul that remembers what the stars forgot."

Elian looked down at her. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow—but steady. The faint glow on her fingertips pulsed in rhythm with the mark on his chest.

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his voice quiet—barely more than a thought.

"I'm here. You're safe."

The Guide stood, their gaze lost in the canopy above. "The memory is waking, Elian. And now it's choosing her, too."

And in the trees above, something unseen shifted.

The Grove remembered.

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