Nirva moved silently along the grove’s edge, already absorbed in her evening sweep. Somewhere in the trees, Neeko’s giggles echoed as he chased after a squirrel, his voice bouncing between the branches.

  The air here was gentler. Safe. The tension of the corrupted forest hadn’t vanished—but here, it felt like the earth remembered peace.

  Kaelthar followed Ivy across the shallow stream, stepping carefully across stones slick with moss. The water trickled beneath them, soft and steady, catching glimmers of fading sunlight.

  They arrived at a small clearing beneath the Sanctuary tree. A quiet, familiar space. A stone-ringed firepit glowed low, and above it, a pot of soup hung from a simple iron hook, its warm aroma filling the air—roots, herbs, and vegetables.

  Kaelthar lingered at the edge before slowly taking a seat on a carved log. His staff rested against his leg. He sat quietly, respectfully, as if uncertain whether he truly belonged here. Ivy knelt beside the fire, her movements unhurried. She ladled two bowls from the pot, then crossed to him and held one out with both hands.

  “You must be hungry,” she said. Many questions remained unanswered. They had no idea where he had come from, or who he truly was, but that could wait until after a warm meal, at least.

  Kaelthar took it with a nod, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “Thank you.”

  Ivy sat across from him on the grass, folding her legs and holding her own bowl with care. She watched the flames for a moment, then looked up at him. She wanted to let him enjoy his food, but, before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

  “So … how did you find your way here?”

  Kaelthar considered the question, his eyes flicking toward the woods behind them.

  “I followed the quiet,” he said at last. “Something in the forest was calling. Not a voice, exactly. But I could feel it.”

  Ivy tilted her head, studying him. “That’s rare,” she said softly. “Most people only hear the forest when it’s already screaming.”

  “I’ve trained to listen for smaller things.”

  “Where are you from?” Nirva asked then. It was clear that she wanted to know more about him, too, though Ivy suspected their reasoning was different.

  “Far east. A monastery near the shale mountains. I was raised there. Lived most of my life there, too.”

  Nirva arched her brow. “Is that where you learned to fight like that?”

  “Yes. And to sit still.”

  Ivy smiled, her voice light as she gestured at him. “Well, you do that part very well.”

  He glanced at her, then back to the fire. “I’ve spent so long moving alone. It’s strange to … stop.”

  “You don’t have to rush here,” Ivy said. “We don’t have many answers yet. Just paths. And we will undoubtedly need all the help we can get.”

  Kaelthar looked at her again, and for a moment, there was something almost uncertain in his gaze—like he wasn’t used to being welcomed.

  “You’re kind,” he said finally. “Even when you shouldn’t be.”

  “I’ve been told that before,” Ivy replied with a small smile. “Usually by Nirva.”

  Kaelthar gave a slow nod and took another spoonful of soup. Ivy let the silence linger between them as she looked back at Nirva, who seemed to be observing the sight beyond the Sanctuary, as if she was searching for something still. Neeko burst into the clearing moments later, a stick twice his size clutched in both arms.

  “I have returned,” he announced proudly, dropping it with a thud near the fire. “This is my walking stick now. I am a staff-user like the tall one.”

  Kaelthar raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ivy.

  She laughed softly. “We’ll need to keep him from trying to spar with you.”

  “I make no promises,” Kaelthar said, the edge of amusement touching his voice. Ivy couldn’t stop the smile that twitched at her lips. It was odd to hear a joke from a creature as serious as a dragonborn, but it was something she could easily get used to.

  ? ? ?

  Kaelthar had only joined them a day ago, yet it already felt as though he had been part of their small group for far longer. It wasn’t often that someone so willing to help crossed Ivy’s path—especially now, when the forest was being swallowed by something so dark and merciless.

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  There, in the Sanctuary, the world outside felt distant. For a little while, they could lower their guards, breathe freely, and let the safety of the forest cradle them, no matter how fleeting that luxury may be. The soft glow of lanterns and the whisper of leaves above offered a rare sense of peace. After the chaos of the past day, a single night of rest would do them all good. Tomorrow, they would decide their next move—set out for Dravemont, find the boy they’d heard about, and plan the road ahead. For now, though, it was enough to rest.

  “Come,” Ivy said, turning toward Kaelthar with a small smile. She motioned toward the stairs that spiraled up the trunk of the ancient tree. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

  She had just placed her foot on the first moss-covered step when Nirva’s voice drifted from behind. It made Ivy pause.

  “Ivy. A moment,” Nirva requested.

  Ivy gave a slight nod. “Neeko, can you show our friend around? I’ll be right back.”

  Neeko gave a dramatic bow and scrambled up Kaelthar’s shoulder. “Onward, my noble steed!” he declared, pointing toward the spiral staircase that wound up through the tree’s core.

  Kaelthar, ever silent, left his boots at the threshold and began to climb, the soles of his feet soft against the wooden steps.

  Ivy turned, walking over to Nirva, who stood just out of earshot of the others, arms crossed and jaw tight. She was unhappy about this arrangement, Ivy could tell that much right away.

  “What are you doing, inviting a stranger into our home? We know nothing about him,” Nirva said. She was the more cautious of the two of them.

  Ivy tilted her head, clearly unbothered. “Everyone’s welcome here. He’s kind. You saw him—he helped us. Or …” she added, her eyes narrowing playfully, “are you just being shy, Nirvanith?”

  Nirva’s eyes narrowed. “I—You—you can’t just bring in every mysterious wanderer with a staff and a brooding past. That’s not how this works.”

  Ivy stepped closer, her teasing smile growing. It was the first time she had smiled genuinely without a worry on her mind in days. The thought of this was rather entertaining.

  “Oh, come on. Who knows? You might even like him.”

  “I do not like—” Nirva began, but Ivy was already laughing, taking her hand.

  Nirva didn’t let go. “Ivy, stop joking around. I mean it. We don’t know what he is. Or what he wants.”

  Ivy gave her a look. “You saw what he did. He helped.”

  Nirva’s jaw tensed. “Plenty of monsters have manners.”

  For a beat, neither of them moved. Then Ivy gave her hand a gentle tug.

  “He’s not a threat,” she said. “And we’re not alone anymore. That counts for something.” Nirva’s fingers twitched in Ivy’s grasp. She didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Don’t get used to it,” she muttered in return, but followed Ivy’s step nonetheless.

  ? ? ?

  By the time Ivy and Nirva reached the top of the stairs, the wooden door had already creaked open, releasing a gentle wash of light and the faint scent of moss, smoke, and lavender.

  Kaelthar stood just inside, silent, his dark eyes sweeping slowly across the room—not with suspicion, but with a kind of quiet awe. In a way, he looked as if he felt like he didn’t entirely belong there, but Ivy’s eyes saw nothing but a friend who came home.

  The living space inside the Sanctuary tree was small, but not sparse. Everything felt grown, not built—from the curved walls to the low shelves that followed the natural lines of the bark. Soft light spilled from glowing plants nestled in wooden sconces, casting the room in a soft green-gold hue. The central hearth, carved into the base of the trunk, flickered gently, warming the space without smoke.

  Along the shelves were bundles of dried herbs, handwritten journals, a few small sculptures made of clay and twigs. Feathers. Stones. Seeds in glass jars. Runes were carved into the arching beams—some humming faintly with old enchantments, others simply decorative.

  Of course, Neeko was quick to take the lead. He hopped from shelf to shelf, his soft paws landing lightly as he pointed out each trinket and keepsake. Every item had its story, and he told them eagerly—just as Ivy had done for him when he had first joined them.

  Kaelthar didn’t touch anything. He stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, eyes quietly tracing each rune and relic with a kind of reverence—like walking through a shrine.

  He turned as Ivy stepped in.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said simply.

  Ivy brushed a hand against a low-hanging vine near the door. “It’s home.” It truly was, in every sense of that word … especially now when she had so many friends to lean on. “And you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like … whenever you’d like.”

  Nirva entered last, her eyes flicking between the two of them before settling on the hearth. She moved to one of the wall shelves and began searching through the contents, checking without asking. Ivy fought the urge to roll her eyes. With time, Nirva would learn to trust the dragonborn, just as she had learned to trust her.

  “Make yourself comfortable, please,” Ivy offered instead, gesturing toward the cushions near the fire. “There’s tea, if you’d like. Or—there’s always soup.”

  Neeko poked his head out from a tucked-away nook of woven branches above them. “And nuts! But I hide the good ones.”

  Kaelthar gave a faint nod and stepped closer to the hearth, lowering himself onto one of the cushions with the same quiet grace he’d shown in battle. His gaze lingered briefly on a rune above the mantel—spiraled, older than the rest.

  “What does that one mean?” he asked softly.

  Ivy looked up. “That one means return. It’s the first rune I ever carved here.”

  Kaelthar nodded, thoughtful. “It suits the space.”

  There was a quiet moment where the fire popped and the glow of the plants pulsed gently against the wood. For the first time in days, the world outside didn’t feel like it was closing in.

  “Let’s rest tonight,” Ivy said at last. “In the morning, we’ll decide on a plan to save the forest.”

  Her words settled gently over the room. No one spoke, but in that stillness, each of them understood and agreed in their own way. That sounded like a good plan, indeed.