Lyra didn't sleep.
She lay on the stone bench with her eyes open, watching the silver thread lining the wall like it might decide to slither off and strangle someone. Probably Thalin. He'd muttered in his sleep about "cultural convergence" and "fascinating ecosystems." She'd been two sighs away from smothering him with his own satchel.
Kaal slept too. Or pretended. He did that sometimes, stilled himself so thoroughly that Lyra couldn't tell if he was dreaming or just trying to disappear. His hands had stopped shaking, which was new. And suspicious.
She didn't trust peace. It always came before the screaming.
They were summoned at dawn.
A woman led the way, posture straighter now, voice quieter. Not the easygoing guide from before. This one wore duty like a second skin.
They passed through a clearing with shallow pools and curling mist. Silver threads looped along the edges.
"Sacred ground," the woman said. "Don't touch anything ."
Thalin was already sketching. Kaal eyed the water. Lyra just frowned at all of it.
Kaal stepped near one of the pools. The mist shifted.
The woman looked startled but didn't speak, just kept walking.
The sanctum they entered next was carved into trees and stone, like everything else, nature shaped by stubborn hands. At the center, seated on a throne of gnarled roots and pale wood, was the Chief.
He looked like someone who'd survived too long and trusted no one because of it.
"Outsiders," he said. Not unkindly. "That's what you are."
Lyra didn't bother to confirm. Kaal nodded. Thalin smiled like he'd rehearsed it.
The Chief's gaze lingered on each of them, sharp but tired. "You crossed the boundary. That hasn't happened in centuries."
"We didn't mean to," Kaal said.
"You still did," the Chief replied.
Lyra crossed her arms. "So what happens now? Ritual combat? Awkward hospitality?"
A twitch at the corner of the Chief's mouth. Amusement? Hard to tell.
"We don't harm guests. Even uninvited ones."
The woman, still silent, stood beside him, eyes unreadable.
"You will stay," the Chief said. "We will be happy to have you."
"We're not staying. We have a long journey ahead," Lyra said flatly.
The Chief acted like he hadn't heard and motioned for someone to lead them out.
They were escorted out with quiet stares at their backs and the weight of things unspoken.
That night, another summons came from the Chief.
They entered a chamber ringed with carved stones and vines older than memory. The man waiting looked like he'd outlived the forest. Skin like bark. Eyes like ash.
"The forest lets you walk because it's curious," he said. "And because it knows you're connected. All of you."
Lyra didn't flinch. Kaal did.
"You're not the first to find this place," the old man said. "But you're the first the forest let pass."
Thalin leaned in. "What do you mean? Is there some kind of bind around here?"
The elder smiled like it hurt. "Yes. A curse. Cast by one who walked with gods, once. A sorcerer who tried to protect the world by caging a piece of it. Us."
He traced a spiral in the dust.
"It was meant to last a decade. Maybe two. But blood doesn't forget. Everyone who shares our blood is caught in it. We live. We grow. But we don't leave."
Kaal frowned. "So you've been trapped for…"
"Three hundred years," the woman from earlier said quietly from the doorway.
Kaal looked over. "Who are you?"
"My name is Nyri. I'm the Chief's daughter. Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier."
Kaal and Thalin nodded in return.
"Three hundred years…" Thalin muttered. "Wow."
The elder looked from Lyra to Nyri. "There are stories of a way to break the curse. A ritual that needs two anchors, one bound to the forest, one marked by old magic."
Kaal looked at Lyra. Then at Nyri.
"Sounds fun and all but what does that have to do with us?" Lyra asked, discomfort evident in her voice.
Then Thalin said, far too casually, "Maybe this is why we were brought off course. Maybe this is part of the path."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Part of whose path? Not mine, my path on this land is already laid."
Thalin only smiled.
Kaal didn't.