The trio came to a stop before a tall, gnarled tree that clung stubbornly to the edge of the cliffside, its roots gripping the rocky soil like talons. Wind from the ocean whipped around them, carrying the tang of sea spray and the distant echo of waves crashing far below. It was the first tree they’d found that looked remotely suitable and even then, just barely.

  “This the one?” the bird asked, arms folded.

  “It should do.” Flora replied.

  “You know, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t just pick this tree to begin with,” Saelune said, squinting back toward the horizon.

  “What do you mean?” Camdyn asked.

  “You went through all that trouble going through the city, getting scratched up by hostiles and chased all up and down the streets when this one was just sitting here the whole time. Still a bit of a hike, sure, but a lot less bloody.”

  Flora’s expression tightened, but her voice stayed even. “I do not claim to know every path. Every root system. I listen. I follow where I’m led.”

  “Sure, blame the trees. Real mature.” Saelune muttered.

  “Well, it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Camdyn said with a shrug. “Even detours have their plus sides. And more times than not, the better view. Besides, what’s an adventure without any good stories to tell?”

  Flora gave him a small smile.

  “Riiight,” Saelune drawled, turning her attention back to the tree. “So, are we all supposed to fit in there or…?”

  Flora shook her head. “It was risky with just Camdyn. I cannot bring a third.”

  “How long would it take us on foot to get to the Groves?”

  “Too long.”

  “She’s not mistaken,” Flora agreed. “Five, perhaps six days. That is, if the weather holds and nothing stands in our way.”

  “Fat chance of that,” he replied.

  “We could always leave the bird.” Flora mumbled.

  “Say somethin’, toots?” she shot back.

  Camdyn stepped forward. “Flora mentioned Sirins not being bound to the earth. Couldn’t you, I don’t know... blink us over there?”

  She snorted. “You like Russian roulette, golden boy? I could try, sure, but I’ve never done it solo. Might end up stuck between realms. Or come out the other side inside-out.”

  “But you’ve done it before?”

  “Yeah, with a guide. And a tether. But I didn’t exactly bring an Elder as a plus one—”

  “I can be your tether.” Flora said, voice steady with quiet conviction.

  Saelune scoffed.

  “Is that a thing?” Camdyn asked.

  “We can create a link,” Flora explained. “One that binds her aura to mine. Like fungus. Separate on the surface, connected underneath.”

  “You’d need an anchor then.” Saelune replied. “The Elder’s used personal effects.”

  “Forest nymphs don’t keep possessions. It’s against our ways.”

  “Really?” she mocked. “How righteous and interesting of you.”

  “Then it’ll have to be of your person.” Camdyn said, catching on.

  Flora nodded, “Your blade, please.”

  “Better be a finger or I don’t want it.”

  Camdyn handed over the knife. Flora took it without hesitation and reached for a small braided section of her hair. With a swift motion, she cut it free, the strands falling into her palm like silk. She tied the ends together carefully, forming a simple bracelet.

  “This will carry my aura. As long as you wear it, you’ll be able to find me. And I, you.”

  Saelune accepted it between two fingers. “Gross.”

  He quirked a brow. “And a severed finger wouldn’t be?”

  “That would’ve been impressive. This just seems weird… and itchy.” She slipped the makeshift bracelet over her wrist and gave it a shake.

  "You’re right. This is much weirder.” Camdyn muttered dryly.

  “I guess you’ll need something from me—”

  Before she could finish the thought, Flora plucked a feather from her scalp.

  “This will do.” she said with a small, satisfied smirk.

  Saelune jerked away. “The hell’s your problem, lady?”

  “This is your ‘something’,” Flora replied simply.

  “I would’ve given you a personal item, you psycho.” she hissed.

  Flora shrugged, “This was faster.”

  Saelune rubbed the tender spot on her scalp with one hand, extending her other palm. Flora placed the feather in it. Saelune’s fingers curled around the plume, her expression sharpening, any levity evaporating like breath in winter. Her eyelids lowered. Shoulders straightened. Something ancient slid into place.

  When she spoke, her voice dropped into that uncanny echo a Sirin only ever used for real magic, resonant and harmonic like two people talking through one throat.

  “Vael’thirra lin,

  traen a’myr sael,

  syr’alaen fal lorin.”

  The words vibrated in the air, bending it. The braided lock of Flora’s hair and the feather on Saelune’s wrist glowed with the same pale shimmer, as if answering an old command. A rush of cool pressure swept between them and then the light dimmed, sinking into both anchors until they looked ordinary again.

  Camdyn swallowed. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a binding spell.” Saelune opened her eyes, pupils blown wide. “Loosely? ‘Our paths are twined, her light to mine, no matter the realm.’ Give or take a poetic flourish. And also,” Her smile slid crooked and dangerous across her face. “I get dibs on both your souls.”

  Camdyn swore he saw Flora roll her eyes.

  “Wait, why me?” he asked, half-laughing.

  “I don’t make the rules.”

  “Right, you just reap the benefits, huh?”

  “Exactly.”

  Flora’s fingers brushed the residual warmth of the magic as she braided Saelune’s feather into her hair, the motion neat and instinctive, as if she’d been doing Sirin bindings her whole life instead of improvising one twenty seconds ago. She secured the feather with a final twist, then turned to Camdyn.

  “I'll send you to the other side first.'"

  She placed her palm on the aged wood, splitting it open with her touch. He gave her a nod before entering. Flora, however, lingered at the threshold for a moment more.

  “Feel for the path,” she said softly. “Let it draw you in.”

  Saelune crossed her arms. “Not my first rodeo, I’ll be just fine.”

  “That I believe,” she smirked. “You’re far too stubborn to die.” And with that, she disappeared into the bark herself.

  Now alone, the Sirin exhaled slowly, eyes drifting shut for a moment before opening again. With a flick of her fingers, a shimmer sparked in the air like light catching on glass. Just like her Elders had done.

  A narrow rift formed in the space ahead, not jagged or violent, but smooth and slow, like water being parted. From within bloomed an orb of pale light, its surface swirling with iridescent hues: lavender, opal, and silver. The very light around it warped and bent, colors bleeding into one another, the edges of reality softened by its glow.

  “Cool...” she breathed, the light reflecting off her eyes.

  She gave the bracelet one more shake for good luck and then reached out. As her hand touched the halo of light, space folded inward, quiet and weightless. The rift widened for a breath, light spiraling like a galaxy collapsing in reverse, and then—

  She vanished.

  When the rift opened up again, she found herself hovering a few inches above saltwater and sand. The weightlessness didn’t last long, gravity pulling her down to the shallows and then to her senses. Upon touching the ocean, she immediately recoiled, making a mad dash for the mangrove roots that rose above the current. The others had made it as well. Also, finding their footing after a not-so-pleasant landing.

  Flora was busy ringing out her hair, while Camdyn slogged through the shallow water toward her.

  “Look who made it in one piece,” he teased. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the water.”

  “We don’t get along. It’s cold, wet, and it weighs down my feathers.”

  “Huh. Flora’s not too fond of this either.”

  “At least there are trees here,” she said, eyes scanning the twisted roots. “Some semblance of home.”

  “Well, hopefully, we can make this trip a short one. The beach is up ahead,” Camdyn said. “We might be able to find the cave entrance from there.”

  The late afternoon sun poured down in golden shafts, filtered through the tangled canopies of the mangroves overhead. Cool water lapped gently at their legs as they waded toward the shore, the breeze whispering through the leaves in a soft, steady hush—the only sound to keep them company. Up ahead, Saelune bounded from root to root, branch to branch, deftly avoiding the water below. Not just out of aversion, but with a practiced grace that made her agility look effortless.

  Camdyn glanced down at the shimmering water swirling around his ankles, an uneasy thought tugging at him. “Hey… there’s nothing down here that might, you know, try to eat us, right?”

  Saelune let out a short laugh. “Like the merpeople?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I bet they gave you a hard time back in the city. But no. Too shallow and sunny for those folks.”

  “No, sea beasts either, Camdyn.” Flora added gently. “Ibises nest here in the spring. Peaceful creatures.”

  He relaxed until Saelune added, “There could be those shoreline isopods though. Nasty little things. They like to burrow into places they shouldn’t.”

  Camdyn froze. “...Places like what?”

  She grinned wickedly. “Use your imagination.”

  “Ignore her,” Flora said, willing a branch out of her path. “They live deep in the sand. If you give them no reason to find you, they won’t.”

  Camdyn glanced warily at his feet again. “Right, comforting…”

  “You know,” Saelune said, leaping lightly to another root, “I figured you’d be more traveled. Trying to save the world and all. You don’t seem to have gone very far at all, even by human standards.”

  “That’s because I haven’t.” Camdyn admitted.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “So what? You grew tired of living a cushy, sheltered life?”

  “Well, I guess life stopped being so cushy and sheltered when I figured out what was happening in the rest of the world.”

  “He came across the Withering in the woods near his home,” Flora added, “He took it upon himself to study it. And I, him.”

  Saelune tilted her head, curious. “So, that’s how you came into the picture. But why though? Aren’t you forest folk pretty adamant about not interacting with his kind?”

  The nymph paused for a moment. “We are. But I saw something in him. Something worth taking a chance on. And I knew I couldn’t save this world alone.”

  Saelune grinned. “Well, well. Looks like there’s a little rebel under all that tree-hugging righteousness after all.”

  Flora’s expression didn’t waver. “It is not rebellion to follow the heartwood of our purpose. If the forest is to survive, we must walk paths we haven’t walked before. My people will see this too, once we have saved Aurevyn and the world with her.”

  “And just like that what little respect I had for you has vanished.”

  “You speak as though your respect is something I seek.” She leveled a look at her. “I assure you, it is not.”

  “Wow. Is she always this prickly?” Saelune asked.

  “Yeah, to you it seems.” Camdyn chuckled. “She’s been more than pleasant to me. But you two are oil and water.”

  “There are worse combinations, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, like oil and fire.” he kid.

  Saelune smirked, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “To each their own. Oil and fire is my kinda party.”

  “One day your chaos will be your undoing.” Flora warned.

  “Eh,” Saelune shrugged, “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

  Camdyn shook his head with a grin. “And one of these days, you’re going to wear each other down and actually start getting along.”

  “Doubtful,” they both said in unison.

  “See? That’s a start.”

  Just then, their feet met solid ground as the mangrove roots gave way to the curve of the shoreline—soft earth beneath them, white as snow. To their left and right, a towering cliff wall framed the horizon, stretching almost endlessly in either direction, its face weathered and veined with time.

  Saelune stepped ahead, turning in a slow circle as she took in the view.

  “Gotta say,” she called over her shoulder, “this is a pretty nice spot. I could see myself stringing up a hammock, cracking open a coconut… living the dream.”

  Camdyn smiled. “I used to look at these magazine clippings from the Old World and they showed beaches just like this. Back when vacations were still a thing.” He paused, his voice softening. “I always wanted to see one for myself. Me and my brother...” He trailed off, then gave a quiet nod. “Guess I can finally cross this one off the list.”

  Flora noticed the change in Camdyn. Something in the way his eyes dimmed, but before she could say anything, Saelune’s voice cut in.

  “C’mon,” she chirped, “This temple isn’t going to desecrate itself.”

  The nymph’s shoulder’s slumped, heavy with agitation at her words.

  “Camdyn—” Flora started.

  He gave her a reassuring grin. “You heard the bird, the temple’s close.”

  The question still lingered on her tongue, but she let it go, falling into step behind them.

  Up ahead, Saelune began playing her charango, the soft, playful notes trailing through the air as they tread.

  The walk along the beach was short, the quiet broken only by Saelune’s rhythmic strumming and the sound of waves on sand. With each step, the tide lapped at their feet with lazy persistence. Except for Saelune, who made a point to remain just out of reach of its touch.

  Before long, they reached a rocky outcropping that jutted into the sea, slick with ocean spray and glistening under the muted light of the cliff’s shadow. The stone path curved along the base of the rock wall, narrow and uneven, barely wide enough for two feet side by side. Waves crashed below, sending bursts of cold mist up against their ankles.

  “Lovely.” Saelune lifted the hem of her cloak to avoid the worst of the spray. She slung her instrument across her back. “One wrong step and you’ll have a fast pass to the next continent.”

  “All the more reason to watch your step.” Camdyn agreed.

  Flora placed a steadying hand against the cliffside, gaze sharp and cautious. Camdyn followed behind her, scanning the jagged stone and the shifting surf below.

  “There,” Flora said, nodding toward a shadow tucked into the cliff face. A narrow opening obscured by hanging sea vines and salt-stained rock.

  “All this beach and they chose to build a temple in Poseidon's buttcrack.” Saelune muttered. “I’ll never understand it.”

  They approached carefully, planting their feet firmly on the slick path before daring another step. The cave mouth loomed darker the closer they came, almost breathing in its stillness.

  Flora slowed, stopping a few feet back. A ripple of unease passed through her. Something wasn’t right.

  The sound drifting from the cave was off. Discordant, shrill in a way that grated against the natural rhythm of the shore. She’d heard it once before…

  Up ahead, Camdyn and Saelune came to a halt as well.

  Camdyn raised his arm to cover his nose with the crook of his elbow. “It smells like rotten fish,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “Worse, actually.”

  Saelune winced, pulling her cloak over her face. “Something definitely died in there. Maybe even recently.”

  Flora’s eyes narrowed on the entrance. Dark streaks marked the stone just beneath the hanging sea vines that were almost black in the dim light, glistening like oil. She took a cautious step forward, every instinct bristling.

  “Camdyn,” she said, her voice low, “this place…”

  He turned to her, concern already settling in his expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “It's Withered.” she replied. “I don't feel we should enter.”

  “Saelune did predict danger—”

  She shook her head. “I feel this place is too far gone. We've never been somewhere so consumed by it. I don't know what it would do to us. If we'd even be able to return.”

  There was a beat of silence, the sea suddenly distant.

  “But if the Blade is inside—”

  “Maybe not.” Saelune finally spoke up. “The place I saw… it looked different.”

  “Different how?” he asked.

  “The entrance was narrower, I think.”

  “You think? Or know?” Flora pressed.

  “Saelune gave her a flat look. “Forgive me if I didn’t take detailed notes while my brain was being scrambled.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Camdyn said gently. “But do you think you’d recognize it if you saw it again?”

  “I think so.” she finally replied, “But this one… it doesn't feel right. I don't know how to explain it.”

  Camdyn paused, weighing their words. His eyes lingered on the cave mouth before flicking back to the others. “Well,” he said, “that sounds like two votes for no. I guess we’ll take that as a sign.”

  Flora hesitated. “What if we’re wrong?”

  “Then we double back,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “And lose time?”

  “Better that than a life,” he said, voice firm but calm. “Let’s avoid unnecessary risk where we can.”

  Flora nodded, relief flickering across her face. They turned to retrace their steps along the slick stone.

  Then they heard it.

  A slow, wet scraping. Deliberate. Something heavy dragging across stone.

  The sound came from behind them, from the cave mouth they’d just dismissed.

  All three froze, caught between the churning surf below and whatever was emerging from the dark.

  Saelune shifted her weight, ready to move. Camdyn’s fingers twitched toward the knife at his side.

  Then it appeared.

  It pulled its mass from the shadows with the clumsy effort of something that once belonged to the water but no longer quite does. The malformed leg dug into the stone like an anchor, joint bending sideways under its own weight, the scales there dull and cracked like broken porcelain. Every movement pulled against the limb’s structure—a deep, wet pop with each shift—as if the body rejected its own invention.

  Above the tide line, the wyrm’s body glistened, though the light reflected wrong. The once-sleek scales now varied wildly in texture: some patches smooth and glassy, others rough or porous, like coral grafted onto living flesh. The spine rose unevenly, forming sharp ridges that rippled as though the skeleton were still rearranging itself beneath the skin.

  Its head was a grotesque fusion of forms. The skull split into three overlapping halves, conjoined where bone shouldn’t meet. Each carried the remnants of a mouth, breathing through multiple jaws that opened and closed asynchronously, leaking seawater and viscous black slime. Sometimes they murmured over one another in bubbling croaks, uncannily close to language but fragmented. Syllables lost to the tide.

  The air grew heavy with brine and decay. None of them moved.

  “Well, that’s new,” Saelune finally muttered. “And disgusting. We should kill it—”

  “Don’t.” Flora’s voice cut sharp through the air.

  Saelune’s eyes flicked to her, incredulous. “Don’t? You do see that thing, right?”

  “It’s not attacking,” Flora said, stepping slightly forward. Her tone softened, though her pulse hammered in her throat. “Look at it. It’s barely holding itself together.”

  The Withered creature hauled itself fully from the cave mouth. Its heads tilted toward them, its malformed leg scraped against stone with that sickening pop. Three heads tilted, regarding them with eyes that surfaced and sank beneath translucent membranes.

  And then, all three of its jaws opened at once, spilling a low, rumbling note that reverberated through the stone beneath their feet. It wasn’t a roar. It sounded almost… mournful.

  Up close, it smelled of rot, metal, and something faintly sweet. The scent of decaying coral and magic gone sour. Despite its horror, there was a terrible sadness in its stillness. The creature didn’t thrash or attack; it simply endured, shaking with effort, as if every beat of its heart cost it a little more of what it used to be.

  Camdyn's hand hovered near his blade, but he didn't draw. His heart hammered in his ears. "Flora…”

  "Wait," she breathed.

  For a long, trembling moment, neither side moved. The waves crashed below. The wind carried salt and decay.

  Then the wyrm shifted its weight, dragging that grotesque leg with effort. It turned slowly, agonizingly away from them. Toward the edge of the rocks. The creature pulled itself to the water's edge and slipped beneath the surface. Its tendrils trailed behind, pulsing fainter and fainter until the dark swallowed them completely.

  The silence that followed felt louder than the wyrm's cry.

  Camdyn broke the silence first. “Why didn’t it attack?”

  Flora shook her head slowly. “I don’t know for certain,” She finally tore her gaze from the sea to look at them both. “Perhaps the Withering doesn’t always corrupt to destroy. It simply twists them into something other than what they were." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Perhaps they don’t intend to bring us harm. Perhaps they’re just trying to live.”

  “Then maybe it should stop trying.” Saelune mumbled.

  “Life is stubborn that way. Always fighting for survival, even at the cost of self.”

  "So they're not always hostile," Camdyn said slowly, understanding settling over his features.

  "No. But they are suffering. Unpredictable. That makes them dangerous, even without malice."

  “Well, I sure hope that thing doesn’t cause more trouble now that you’ve sent it on its merry way.” Saelune replied.

  “Whether it lives or dies,” Flora said, voice steady, “is for Mother to decide, not us.”

  She snorted. “You know, one day your poetic mumbo jumbo is gonna bite you in the ass.”

  Flora glared at her, jaw tight. “Not before your foolery catches up to you.”

  Camdyn’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a sigh. “Both of you, maybe let it catch up after we’re off this rock.”

  They moved in silence, watching the water, listening for that terrible scraping sound. But the wyrm didn't return.

  With the afternoon fading and the cave ruled out, they decided to set up camp on the beach. The cliffs offered a break from the wind, and the sand, still warm from the sun, made a passable bed.

  As the last light bled from the horizon, Camdyn sat near the fire, absently toying with the twine around his wrist while Flora gathered more driftwood. Saelune sat a little ways away, tuning her strings in the branches. The sky shifted from gold to violet, then to a deep, star-dappled blue.

  That’s when they noticed them.

  Pale shapes drifting just beneath the water’s surface. There were dozens of them gliding silently between the mangroves at the cusp of the shoreline. At first glance, they looked like jellyfish, their bodies delicate and luminous, pulsing with soft lavender and pink light.

  Camdyn stood, instinctively alert, but Flora raised a hand to ease him. “They mean you no harm,” she spoke gently. “Watch.”

  As the stars brightened above, the creatures began to rise, leaving the water behind. They floated weightlessly through the air, moving without disturbance. Glowing, curious, and eerily silent.

  One passed close to Camdyn’s face, and he flinched before realizing it wasn’t a threat.

  They were surrounded.

  “What are they...?”

  She watched them with a soft expression. “Will-o-wisps.”

  “Some say they’re bad omens,” Saelune said from her perch. “Bringers of false hope. Luring the lost deeper into the dark.” She brushed one away that drifted too close to her.

  Flora wandered to the water’s edge, her eyes following the glowing trails. “And some,” she said quietly, “believe they’re souls. Ones who have yet to find their way home.”

  They fell into silence, letting the glowing wisps drift around them. The air felt sacred, stilled. Even the waves had softened in their presence.

  Camdyn sat back down by the fire, watching the spirits dance. His eyes drifted with the embers… until they settled on Flora.

  She stood just beyond the firelight, her gaze lifted toward one of the floating wisps. Slowly, almost reverently, she reached out with an open hand. The creature hovered near her fingertips, its glow pulsing gently in time with her breath. A quiet smile touched her lips. Soft and unguarded in a way he rarely saw.

  The light of the wisp lit her face from below, painting her features in pale gold and blush. Her hair caught the breeze, just slightly, framing her like something out of a dream.

  Camdyn stared, caught in the moment. Not just by the magic, but by her.

  She looked… at peace. Like she belonged to this world in a way he never had. And for a fleeting second, he wondered if she even realized how beautiful she looked like that—bathed in starlight and spirit fire.

  He turned his gaze away before she could catch him watching, but the image stayed with him, etched behind his eyes.