Rhy sat cross-legged beside the stream, tracing idle patterns in the cold water. Her hair tumbled in wild, midnight waves, catching shards of sunlight. For as long as she could remember, this glade was her sanctuary—a place where silence echoed louder than words, and where she felt both utterly alone and curiously watched.
Rhy’s heart beat faster, her senses sharpening to the whispers threading through the air. She peered into the undergrowth, searching for something—someone—drawn by the feeling that today was not like other days. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what might emerge from the shadows.
The stranger’s voice was soft, almost musical, carrying both reassurance and mystery. "You are Rhy, aren't you? The one who listens to the forest’s dreams?" Rhy nodded, her voice caught in her throat, torn between awe and caution. She had never met another soul here, much less one who seemed woven from the glade’s own magic.
"This is for you," the figure murmured, their fingers brushing Rhy’s hand. "It holds memories—yours, mine, and the forest’s. You are needed beyond these woods." Rhy hesitated, feeling the stone’s gentle thrum, as if it echoed her own heartbeat. She sensed the weight of choice, the pull of destiny.
As Rhy closed her fingers around the gift, warmth surged through her veins, awakening memories she didn’t know she possessed—of laughter under moonlight, sorrow in storm, and hope that never faded. The forest’s song swelled, no longer distant but rising from within her. She met the stranger’s gaze, a question forming on her lips.
"Come, Rhy. Your journey begins now," the figure called, their silhouette already merging with the light. With one last glance at her quiet stream, Rhy stood, heart racing with anticipation. She stepped onto the path, carrying the glade’s magic and her own awakening into the world beyond.
