"Where does it lead?" Lucy's voice came behind him, husky with sleep. She'd followed him out, her hair tangled and eyes half-lidded with dreams.
"I don't know," he said. "But it's asking."
She walked to his side, slipping her fingers into his. "Then we answer."
One by one, the others emerged from the sanctuary, drawn by instinct more than sound. Rose stood last, barefoot and radiant, watching the light above them slowly descend like a slow-moving serpent of starlight.
Sophie's voice was quiet. "Is it another ritual?"
"No," Rose whispered. "This is an invitation."
They followed the light. It moved slowly, undulating just ahead of them like a path carved from memory. The forest opened, as it always did, but now it felt less like it was yielding and more like it was guiding. Flowers turned toward them. Trees pulsed with faint light, as if acknowledging their steps.
The path led them to a new clearing.
And at its center stood an arch.
