I push through the trees. The air shifts, suddenly less heavy, as if I’ve stepped where the world grows thin. Here I am again. I can’t explain how this place feels so foreign, like nowhere I’ve ever been, and yet unmistakably like home. Every time I arrive, it feels new and ancient at once, as though I’ve walked these paths before… more times than I could ever remember, even if this body has never been here.

The sunlight through the trees feels as though it’s being drawn back by something just out of sight—something I almost remember. The scent of wildflowers and dew fills my nose as I take a deep, calming breath. I can taste the sweetness in the air.

It all feels so freeing as I listen to the songs of the forest. The brooks babble, bees buzz, frogs croak, and birds chirp, each part of an orchestrated masterpiece. My heart sings along as the warmth of the sun comforts me. A cool breeze caresses my cheek. I close my eyes and embrace a moment of perfection.

Only here am I safe to breathe, the weight lifted. Only here my body remembers: it was made for joy.

I collapse to the ground. Instantly, the earth embraces me back in a gentle hug. Something in me loosens. A small laugh slips out.

I find myself drawn here more often. I want to stay here forever. Here, my heart is light. There, my body is trapped in darkness. Here, I am free.

In this moment I wonder: is this place waiting for me, or does it simply exist out of a longing for it?

The sky fractures. Sound follows light the way pain follows breath. Thunder rolls through the ground, through the roots, through me, so close the earth jumps beneath my body. The forest shudders. Iron screams. The world tightens.

My eyes fly open.

For a heartbeat, the gold of the forest sun clings to my vision, only to be burned away by a jagged flash of lightning through the narrow cell window. The smell of wildflowers is choked out by the sudden, heavy stench of sweat and rusted iron.

Another crack follows, closer still—light carving the darkness into hard-edged shapes.

“Storm’s coming,” a guard mutters somewhere down the corridor.

Well, I guess I’m back.

I push through the trees. The air shifts, suddenly less heavy, as though I’ve stepped where the world grows thin. Here I am again. This place still feels foreign—like nowhere the waking world could hold—and yet unmistakably familiar. Childhood. Dreams. Memory. I’ve walked this path before… more times than I could ever remember.

The light through the trees bends strangely here, as though something just out of sight is drawing it back toward itself. And I am beginning to remember. The scent of wildflowers and dew fills my lungs as I breathe deeply. Sweetness lingers on the air.

I stop and listen for the songs of the forest. Where are the babbling brooks, the buzzing bees, the frogs croaking beneath the reeds? Where is the orchestra I remember so clearly? The stillness should unsettle me. Instead, my heart softens with the warmth of the sun against my skin. A cool breeze brushes my cheek. I close my eyes and let the moment hold me.

Here, I am safe to breathe. Here, my body remembers it was made for joy. The last warmth of sunlight thins between the trees.

I collapse gently to the ground. The earth rises to meet me, cradling my weight without resistance. Something inside me loosens. A small laugh escapes before I can stop it.

I have always been drawn here. I want to stay here forever. Here, my heart is light. Here, my body is no longer trapped in darkness. Here, I am free.

This time, a different question rises in me: Did this place wait for me… or have I simply become capable of finding it again?

Then I feel it. A hum rolls through the roots beneath me—through the earth, through my bones, through the space just behind my heart. The forest changes. The world loosens around me.

My eyes fly open.

Then nothing. Everything looks the same. I take a slow, steadying breath. I close my eyes and let the moment take me. The breeze shifts. For a heartbeat, warmth blooms beneath my ribs—not fire, not heat exactly. Recognition. Then something answers along my left arm.
Beneath the skin of my inner forearm, light begins to gather. I look down.

The sigil glows there for the first time—fine lines of warm gold spreading beneath my skin.
A circle enclosing a triangle. Another circle held within it, crossed through its center. Beneath it, a crescent moon curves upward like a waiting bowl. The triangle’s point reaches toward my elbow. I know the shape. I don’t know how.

I’ve seen pieces of it before. In dreams. In flashes too quick to hold.
But never like this.
Whole.

The forest around me seems to inhale. The air changes in a way I cannot name. The world feels thinner at the edges. The trees ahead begin to bend—not physically, but perceptually—as though distance itself has loosened between them.

I feel it before I understand it.

A doorway.