87

  Morning arrived gently in Bona’s treehouse, as if the forest itself knew this was a day of parting and chose kindness. Sunlight filtered through leaves and crystal panes, ying warm bands across the wooden floor. Outside, the wind was calm—too calm—like a held breath.

  The group stood gathered near the door, packs strapped, weapons checked, hearts heavier than they admitted.

  Durante tightened the leather strap across his chest and gnced once more around the room. A month. They had stayed for a month, yet the treehouse already felt like a pce memory would return to uninvited—quiet nights, shared meals, whispered pns, ughter that felt stolen from darker days.

  Bona stood by the table, arms folded loosely, her expression unreadable in the way of people who had lived long enough to master goodbyes.

  “You’re welcome back anytime,” she said, voice even, but eyes soft. “Tree, door, kettle. Same as always.”

  Soraya stepped forward first. Bona handed her the new quiver without ceremony, as if passing a book across a table rather than a weapon forged with intention.

  The quiver was lighter than it looked, dark leather threaded with silver veins. When Soraya slung it over her shoulder, she felt the difference immediately—the bance, the way it settled as if it belonged there.

  Bona drew one arrow free and held it up. The shaft gleamed faintly, gem-inscribed near the tip.

  “Lightning,” Bona said, then another—“Water.”A third—“Fire.”A fourth—“Wind.”

  Soraya tested the weight, gave a small whistle. “They sing.”

  “They remember,” Bona corrected. “And they listen.”

  Soraya bowed her head slightly. “Thank you.”

  Katherine was next. Bona pressed a pendant into her palm—warm, heavier than it appeared. A sun, its rays uneven, alive. At its center, something like molten gold pulsed faintly, slow and steady.

  “Temporary,” Bona said. “But strong. It will turn aside lesser things. Don’t rely on it—trust your instincts first.”

  Katherine didn’t argue. She stepped forward and hugged Bona, tight and earnest. Bona stiffened for half a heartbeat, then returned it, one arm awkward but sincere.

  Maxi practically bounced in pce.

  “And for you,” Bona said, already anticipating chaos.

  She handed him a small carved token—wood and metal, etched with a sigil that shimmered faintly.

  “Priority access. Markets, stores, traders. Don’t abuse it.”

  Maxi’s eyes widened. “So I can just—walk in?”

  “You can walk in quietly,” Bona said ftly.

  He nodded vigorously. “Quiet. Yes. I am very quiet.”

  She then produced the dagger.

  Stag antler grip, silver bde, banced perfectly. When Maxi took it, the weight surprised him—not heavy, not light, but serious.

  “Whoa,” he breathed. “This feels… responsible.”

  The lynx beside him flicked an ear, unimpressed.

  Maxi hugged Bona anyway, almost knocking her off bance. “Thank you! I will treasure it! I will name it!”

  “No naming,” Bona said immediately.

  Maxi paused. “…Temporary nickname?”

  Bona sighed.

  Finn lingered at the back, quieter than usual.

  Bona approached him st. From within a cloth wrap, she revealed a dagger unlike the others—bck wood handle, bde pale and old, dragon bone etched with lines worn smooth by time.

  She leaned in, voice barely a whisper. “Birog’s.”

  Finn’s fingers tightened around it.

  Something in his chest shifted—not power, not fear, but recognition. Like meeting a story he had already been living.

  Maxi squinted. “Why does Finn always get the cool ancient stuff?”

  “Because you get loud modern things,” Bona replied.

  The lynx chuffed, clearly agreeing.

  They stepped outside.

  The circur ptform waited atop the hill, runes faint but eager. Leaves stirred as if drawn toward it. The air hummed.

  A shadow passed overhead.

  The Haribon descended in a sweep of wind and feathers, wings wide enough to darken the clearing. It nded with practiced grace, talons digging into stone, crest fring proudly.

  Lir ughed and rushed forward, arms wide. “You came!”

  The Haribon lowered its head just enough to allow the embrace, feathers ruffling around her like a living mantle.

  Durante approached more cautiously, pcing a steady hand against the Haribon’s beak. “Good to see you again.”

  The great bird regarded him with one keen eye, then inclined its head—a warrior’s greeting.

  Behind them, the lynx had gone very still.

  It stared up at the Haribon, tail shing once.

  Then—decidedly—it changed.

  Golden light rippled across its body. Muscles thickened. Wings tore free from its shoulders in a burst of feathers and force. Horns curved upward, glowing faintly. Its cws sank into the earth, leaving cracks.

  The lynx exhaled, low and dangerous.

  The Haribon stiffened.

  The air between them tightened—not hostile, not friendly, but competitive.

  Maxi’s jaw dropped. “WHY can my pet do that and I can’t?”

  The lynx shot him a look that clearly said because you’d abuse it.

  Durante cut his palm. Blood dripped onto the ptform. The runes fred.

  “Hush the wind, bend the light,” Maxi shouted with enthusiasm, arms raised.“Valley, take us from night to sight!”

  The world folded.

  —

  They emerged in Valley.

  Cool air wrapped around them, carrying the scent of damp grass and distant water. The circur ptform stood within a small pavilion, stone pilrs carved with vines and leaves. Knights stepped forward instinctively—

  —and stopped.

  Durante raised the token.

  Instant recognition. The knights backed away, respectful, silent.

  The Haribon unched skyward without a sound, vanishing into cloud. The lynx hesitated, gnced at Durante.

  He nodded.

  With a powerful beat of wings, it followed—less elegant, more aggressive, clearly determined not to be outdone.

  Maxi waved. “Be careful! Don’t race! Or do! Just don’t crash!”

  No one answered.

  They began descending the hill.

  Valley unfolded below them like a remembered dream.

  Bungalow houses dotted the nd, green roofs alive with grass and flowers. Smoke curled zily from chimneys. Stone paths cut through fields in careful squares, grass growing stubbornly between them.

  Windmills turned slowly on nearby rises, their creak rhythmic and soothing.

  The marketpce to the west buzzed with life—colorful canopies, fruit piled high, ughter carried on the breeze. No sharp divide between noble and commoner here. People moved freely, greeting one another by name.

  To the east, the castle rose—older than Glory’s, humbler, but solid. And behind it—

  The jungle.

  Dense, ancient, vast. Cliffs cut through green like scars. Waterfalls shimmered in the distance, feeding rivers that whispered secrets.

  The lynx descended from the clouds like a falling star, wings folding midair, golden light shedding from its body as it touched the ground before Durante and the group. Its massive form shrank smoothly, muscles easing, horns receding, wings dissolving into nothing until it stood once more as the familiar lynx—sleek, powerful, and faintly irritated.

  It shook itself once, as if annoyed by the entire concept of flight.

  Durante exhaled. “Alright. Lead the way.”

  The lynx didn’t wait. It turned its head once—follow—and padded toward the back of the Valley castle, slipping between ancient stone walls and into the forest beyond.

  Durante did not look back.

  They bypassed the castle entirely.

  The moment they crossed the boundary, the world changed.

  This was no garden.

  This was a jungle.

  Trees towered impossibly high, trunks thicker than houses, their canopies tangled so densely they blotted out the sky. Vines as thick as arms draped downward, swaying slowly, creaking softly as if breathing. The air was cool and wet, heavy with the scent of earth, moss, and old rain. Somewhere deep within, water flowed—constant, patient.

  Maxi whispered, “Okay… this pce definitely eats people.”

  Chummy drifted closer to him. “Only if they are rude.”

  “That does not comfort me.”

  The lynx stopped before a clearing swallowed by green.

  At its center stood a circur, enclosed structure—stone walls broken by time, nearly cimed by vines and ferns. Jasmine bloomed freely here, white petals glowing faintly even in the shade. Resting behind the structure, wings folded and eyes closed, was the Haribon.

  The great bird opened one eye as they approached.

  The lynx stiffened.

  The Haribon rose slowly, feathers rustling, crest lifting just a fraction.

  The air between them tightened—two ancient guardians acknowledging shared territory. Not enemies. Not allies. Equals.

  Durante pced a hand on the lynx’s head. “Easy.”

  The lynx snorted softly and sat.

  The Haribon inclined its head, then settled again, allowing passage.

  They entered the structure.

  At its heart stood a statue.

  A woman carved in pale stone, robed to her feet, cloak flowing into a hood that framed a face so serene it almost hurt to look at. Her arms were open, lowered, palms forward—not beckoning, not pleading. Waiting.

  Time had touched her gently. Ferns curled along her robe. Moss softened the edges of her face. Jasmine vines climbed her arms, blooming as if she were the soil itself.

  The statue stood atop a rectangur stone ptform, as tall as Durante.

  Silence settled.

  Lir swallowed. “This has to be it.”

  Katherine nodded slowly. “Queen Era.”

  They searched.

  Around the statue. Behind it. Along the walls. Nothing.

  No mp. No tree. No turtle.

  Lir frowned, flipping pages in her memory. “The journal mentioned a turtle… and a tree.”

  Maxi gestured wildly. “EVERYTHING IS A TREE.”

  “Queen Era searched for at least a week,” Lir continued, forcing calm. “The tree might be far from—”

  “Dad,” Maxi interrupted loudly. “I FOUND THE TURTLE.”

  Everyone turned.

  Maxi held up a turtle.

  A very ordinary turtle.

  Small. Muddy. Blinking.

  The silence shattered.

  Soraya’s soul visibly left her body.

  Katherine covered her face.

  The lynx turned away in absolute embarrassment.

  Finn walked over, gently took the turtle from Maxi, and pced it back on the ground. “Maxi… that’s just a turtle.”

  Maxi frowned. “But it was under a tree.”

  Finn turned to leave—then stopped.

  He turned back.

  The turtle was crawling slowly toward the statue.

  A vine twitched.

  Finn’s breath caught.

  “Dad.”

  Durante turned. “What?”

  Finn pointed. “The vine.”

  The vine snaked into the rectangur ptform, slipping through a thin seam almost invisible beneath moss and stone.

  Durante stepped closer, brushing away ferns, vines, yers of time.

  Stone.

  A door.

  Grooves circled its edges.

  “Hollow,” Finn said softly.

  Durante pressed against it. Nothing.

  Again. Nothing.

  He stepped back, drew breath, and kicked.

  The impact echoed through the jungle.

  The statue swayed—but held.

  The door shifted.

  With a grinding groan, stone gave way.

  Darkness yawned open.

  A staircase descended into the earth.

  Cold air breathed upward, damp and old, carrying the smell of stone, roots, and forgotten water.

  Maxi leaned over the opening. “Yep. That’s a dungeon.”

  They descended carefully.

  The steps were slick, worn smooth by centuries. Mist clung low, swirling around their ankles. Every sound echoed—their breathing, the scrape of boots, the distant rush of water.

  “This pce smells… green,” Maxi whispered.

  “That’s mold,” Soraya replied.

  “Oh.”

  They followed the vines deeper, guided by faint light filtering through cracks above.

  They passed clusters of colorful mushrooms glowing softly. Maxi crouched, curious.

  “Don’t—” Lir began.

  Too te.

  The mushroom puffed.

  Dust exploded into Maxi’s face.

  “AGH—” He coughed violently, eyes watering, stumbling backward.

  Finn spshed water onto his face. “Blink. Blink.”

  Maxi did. “My eyes feel like regret.”

  “Sometimes curiosity kills,” Lir said lightly.

  “Noted.”

  They continued.

  The sound of water grew louder.

  They emerged into a vast cavern.

  A fallen tree trunk stretched across a chasm, bridging two stone ledges. Below, water roared—fast, violent, churning with rocks. Mist rose from it, cold against their skin.

  Maxi swallowed. “I do not like this.”

  Then—

  Skitter.

  A small spider dropped onto Maxi’s shoulder.

  He flung it away. “NOPE.”

  Another fell.

  Then another.

  Bigger.

  The sound came next—thousands of legs clicking against stone.

  Then the shadows moved.

  Spiders poured from the walls. From cracks. From above.

  Big.

  Bigger.

  One the size of Maxi’s face nded inches from him.

  “SPIIIIIIDEEEEERRRRR!”

  His scream echoed violently.

  Chaos erupted.

  Soraya loosed an arrow—red gem igniting. Fire spiraled, the arrow shrieking as it struck, fme blossoming.

  The lynx lunged, crushing spiders beneath its paws, snapping others midair.

  Lir called vines to life, piercing, entangling.

  Durante tore spiders free with bare hands, crushing them.

  But there were too many.

  Finn, Katherine, and Maxi ran for the tree trunk.

  Halfway across—

  Creeeak.

  The wood groaned.

  Another crack.

  It snapped.

  They fell.

  Water swallowed them whole.

  Cold.

  Violent.

  Finn grabbed Katherine instinctively.

  They were smmed against rock, spun, dragged.

  Finn saw it—the fall ahead.

  He kicked, fought, reached—

  Vines.

  He caught one. Wrapped his arm. They are suspended, Katherine above him

  Maxi surfaced nearby, clinging to a rock.

  “HELP!” Finn shouted.

  “What?” Maxi yelled.

  “HELP!”

  “What—KNELT?”

  “No! HELP!”

  “OKAY, OKAY, OKAY!”

  Maxi knelt immediately.

  Finn stared disappointed. “HEEELLLLP—”

  “OKAY, OKAY BELT” Maxi fumbled with his belt.

  “BRO…JUST PUUUUULLLL!” Finn screamed.

  The current surged.

  The vine tore free.

  They are swept again.

  Downward.

  Together.

  Into the falls.

  The roar of water swallowed everything.