The Forest of the Forgotten

"The Starbucks," Ellie said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk as the realization hit her. "Their bathroom. It'll be quieter than a department store, and people expect coffee shops to have locked bathrooms."

Amnity looked skeptical. "But what if someone—"

"Coffee shops are different. People take longer, and no one questions it." The knowledge came from somewhere deep in Ellie's recovered city instincts. "Trust me."

The Starbucks bathroom was small and cramped, with barely enough room for both of them to stand comfortably. But it was private, and the steady hum of the espresso machine outside would mask any sounds of their departure.

Ellie locked the door and began the ritual again, her movements more confident this time. The sea salt caught the harsh bathroom light as she sprinkled it at each corner of the small mirror above the sink. The space felt different from the department store—more intimate, more focused.

"Hurry," Amnity whispered, though no one had tried the door yet.

Ellie placed her palm against the mirror and closed her eyes, reaching once again for her hidden glen. This time, the connection came easier, the mirror's surface warming under her touch almost immediately. She could smell the green darkness of Nova, feel the ancient peace of the forgotten forest.

The glass began to ripple, then suddenly turned liquid silver. Through the surface, she could see glimpses of towering trees and filtered sunlight.

"Now," she breathed, grabbing Amnity's hand.

The transition between worlds was always shocking—a plunge into cold so intense it felt like drowning in ice water. The mirror's surface pulled them through like liquid mercury, and suddenly they were falling through a void that wasn't quite darkness, wasn't quite light. Ellie gasped as the frigid emptiness seized her lungs, every breath feeling like swallowing shards of winter. The space between worlds had its own terrible physics—weightless yet crushing, silent yet filled with the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Beside her, Amnity's grip tightened painfully, both of them tumbling through the gap between realities. Time moved strangely here; the journey felt like hours and seconds simultaneously. Ellie could taste metal and starlight, could feel her hair whipping around her face in winds that didn't exist.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the cold released them, and they were stumbling onto soft moss, their knees buckling as gravity reasserted itself. The familiar scent of Nova's eternal forest filled their nostrils—earth and growing things, the green smell of life that never quite slept.

Ellie collapsed to her knees, still shaking from the crossing, her hands pressed against the moss as she tried to convince her body that solid ground was real again. Amnity sprawled beside her on the forest floor, gasping and shivering, her Nova clothing damp with the strange moisture that always clung to travelers between worlds.

Around them, the ancient trees rose like cathedral pillars, their silver-threaded bark catching what little light filtered through the canopy. This was Ellie's sanctuary, the place she'd discovered as a child and claimed as her own. The trees here were older than memory, their roots so deep they touched the very heart of Nova. She'd spent countless hours in this circle, learning to quiet her mind, to listen to the whispers of magic that flowed through everything in her world.

But now, something felt fundamentally wrong.

"It's so quiet," Amnity whispered after a long moment, her voice seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness. She pushed herself to a sitting position, brushing moss from her palms, her eyes wide as she took in the unnatural silence.

Nova had never been silent. Ever. There were always sounds threading through the forest—the whisper of wind through leaves that sang different notes depending on the season, the distant call of mirror-birds with their crystalline voices, the soft chiming of the wild crystals that grew in the deeper woods like musical wind chimes. The very trees themselves usually hummed with a low, almost inaudible vibration that spoke of deep roots and deeper magic.

But now, the forest held its breath around them, as if the very air was waiting for something. Even the small stream that normally bubbled between the oak roots had fallen silent, its water moving but making no sound, like watching the world through glass.

Ellie pushed herself to her feet, unease prickling along her spine like cold fingers. The glen looked exactly as she'd left it—every detail perfectly preserved. The circle of ancient oaks with their silver-threaded bark, the soft moss that had cushioned countless hours of meditation, the flat stone where she'd often sat to watch the play of light through the leaves. But the oppressive quiet transformed her sanctuary into something alien, like coming home to find all the furniture rearranged in subtle, disturbing ways.

"Maybe it's because we've been gone?" Amnity suggested, but her voice carried uncertainty. "Maybe the forest is just... adjusting to our return?"

Ellie didn't answer. She was remembering the constant noise of the other world—car horns blaring, people shouting, the mechanical hum of a civilization that never slept. The sensory assault that had felt overwhelming at first, but had also felt... alive. Vibrant. Real in a way that this perfect, silent forest suddenly didn't.

"The root!" Amnity's voice cut through the eerie silence, excitement overtaking her unease as she pulled her backpack around to check its contents. Her hands moved quickly, carefully unwrapping the bundle that held their precious cargo. "Oh, thank the mirrors, it's still intact!"

The Glowing Imp Root pulsed softly in its carefully wrapped bundle, its bioluminescence undimmed by their journey between worlds. If anything, it seemed brighter than before, as if the strange transition had somehow energized it. Amnity's shoulders sagged with relief as she confirmed that all her other gathered ingredients were still safely secured—the silver moss, the crystallized dew, the handful of singing stones that would help focus the healing magic.

"Look at it," she breathed, holding the root up so its gentle light played across the silent trees. "It's perfect, Ellie. With this, I can brew for The Midnight Moon Festival, and it's huge, maybe I'll make some sweets with it too!" Amnity sang.

But Ellie barely heard her. She was staring up at the canopy, at the way the light fell wrong somehow, too still, too perfect. In the city, light had been harsh and changeable, reflecting off glass and metal, creating sharp shadows and brilliant highlights. It had hurt her eyes, but it had also felt dynamic, alive, real in a way that Nova's gentle, filtered illumination now seemed pale by comparison.

The contrast was jarring, disorienting. In the city, she'd felt like she was remembering something vital about herself, awakening parts of her mind that had been sleeping. Here, in the place that had been her sanctuary for years, she felt like a stranger wearing someone else's life.

"I need answers," she said quietly, her voice harder than Amnity had ever heard it.

"Ellie?"

"I need to talk to Eleazar. Now." Ellie's hands clenched into fists. "He's been lying to me my whole life. Teaching me to steal, training me for a world he claimed I'd never see again. He knew I was from there, didn't he? He always knew."

Amnity had never seen this side of her best friend—this cold anger that made Ellie's usually warm brown eyes look almost black. "Maybe he was just trying to protect you—"

"By lying? By letting me think I was some orphan he'd found wandering the forest?" Ellie's voice rose, and somewhere in the canopy above, a few mirror-birds finally stirred, their crystalline calls echoing strangely in the quiet. "I'm going to get the truth out of him, one way or another."

Without another word, she strode toward the path that would take her back to the settled lands of Nova, her steps quick and purposeful. The city had awakened something in her—not just memories, but a fierce determination that sat uncomfortably in this peaceful world.

Amnity watched her go, then looked down at her backpack full of precious ingredients. The Glowing Imp Root pulsed steadily, and she could already envision the delicate work ahead—preparing her kitchen for the complex spellwork that would transform the root into the healing draught they'd originally set out to create.

But as she began gathering her things to head home, the excitement in her movements gradually fading to something more thoughtful, she couldn't shake the feeling that their brief journey to Ellie's birth world had changed more than just Ellie's understanding of her past. It had changed Ellie herself—the way she moved, the sharpness in her eyes, even the way she breathed seemed different. More alert, more predatory, like she was constantly assessing threats and opportunities.

The girl who had left Nova that morning had been gentle, contemplative, someone who preferred solving problems with patience and careful thought. The person walking away toward Eleazar's cottage moved with the fluid confidence of someone who had learned to take what she needed to survive, who had remembered skills that had nothing to do with Nova's peaceful ways.

Amnity shouldered her pack and took one last look around the glen, hoping the familiar peace of the place might settle her nerves. But the oppressive quiet remained, and she found herself hurrying toward the path that would take her back to the settled lands, back to her cottage with its comfortable kitchen and well-ordered shelves of ingredients.

She had work to do. Important work. The root needed to be processed within days of harvesting, or it would lose its potency. She needed to prepare her workspace, gather the secondary ingredients, plan the delicate sequence of steps that would transform the raw root into a healing draught that could save lives.

But as she walked through the unnaturally silent forest, she couldn't stop thinking about the way Ellie had moved through that overwhelming city—not like someone lost and confused, but like someone coming home to a place they'd always belonged.

The forest remained unnaturally quiet around them both, as if Nova itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen when two worlds finally collided in the heart of one person who belonged fully to neither.