The trees changed before the light did.

  It wasn’t sudden—just a slow, creeping shift. Bark turned pale and paper-thin. Leaves shimmered with an iridescent sheen. The wind stilled.

  Astrid glanced up as they passed beneath a towering arch of twisted branches, the bark carved with symbols she couldn’t read.

  “We’re getting close to the capital now; we need to be extra careful,” Kurai said quietly.

  “So what’s the plan? Take the long way around?”

  “We go through these woods. The Council doesn’t come this way. Not even Enforcers.”

  “Why not?” she asked, though something in her already knew the answer.

  This place had a strange feel, it was beautiful, luring her in but it felt like a trap.

  “Because this place isn’t for us.”

  He paused, eyes scanning the darkening path ahead. His voice dropped.

  “There are creatures in these woods. Most are harmless. Magical things that just want to be left alone. But they stay here because the dangerous ones protect them.”

  She looked around, her gaze catching the faint glow of something flitting between the trees. It looked like a dragonfly made of stained glass and firelight.

  “Even though you’re immune,” Kurai added, “let’s not test the limits. Illusions can still get into your head. And there are worse things than illusions.”

  He didn’t sound afraid. But he wasn’t relaxed either.

  Astrid nodded, but her stomach was tight. “What about you? You’re not immune.”

  “They tend to leave me alone.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “No idea. Probably scared of me. That’s why I think this is our best bet.”

  “Oh, so you’re the top dog, aye? Or maybe it’s because you’re so standoffish” she teased, she could see him trying to fight back a smirk.

  “Well, we have nothing to worry about then.” She nudged his shoulder.

  They walked in silence for a while, the world around them growing stranger by degrees.

  The forest shimmered with quiet life. Tiny creatures darted between mushroom caps. A stag with velvet-black antlers watched them from behind a fallen log, its hooves never touching the ground. Vines coiled lazily in the air as if breathing.

  Not everything here was dangerous.

  Not everything was safe, either.

  And then—she heard it.

  “Astrid!”

  A voice. Far ahead. Familiar. Frantic.

  She stopped.

  “Charlie?”

  Kurai turned sharply, expression hardening. “Remember what I said. Keep walking.”

  “Didn’t you hear that?”

  “No, and neither did you.”

  “It sounded like—” her chest tightened. “It was Charlie.”

  “Astrid,” he said sharply. “Whatever you hear, it isn’t real.”

  Another cry—closer now.

  “Astrid! Please—help me!”

  Her heart thudded. She looked at Kurai, guilt starting to crawl into her chest.

  “What if she came looking for me? What if she ended up here too?”

  “She didn’t.”

  He is right It couldn’t be. It had to be a trick. But the voice—God, it sounded just like her.

  What if I’m wrong? What if Charlie somehow followed? What if she’s really here and I walk away? What if I leave her behind—again?

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Her throat tightened.

  She looked at Kurai, searching his face for any doubt, any hesitation. There was none.

  Her voice cracked. “Kurai…”

  She took a step backward.

  “Astrid, don’t.”

  “I’m immune. They can’t hurt me—and you can fight them.” She had to know, he had to help her.

  Even if it’s a trick they can’t get me. I’ll be fine. I’m immune, maybe their tricks can’t affect me and I’m just leaving her.

  But even as she thought it, her stomach churned.

  The thoughts kept swirling in her mind.

  What if the trick is letting me think it’s not real—so I walk away from her?

  What if I don’t check and I never forgive myself?

  She ran.

  “Astrid—no!”

  Kurai lunged after her—but the trees shifted. The path closed. Roots twisted upward in a sudden wall, thick as bone and twice as fast. The wind stilled. Her footsteps vanished like they’d never been. Only silence answered him now.

  He skidded to a stop, fists clenched.

  Leaves rustled around him, whispering.

  The fae stepped fully into view, small no bigger than a bird, flying with ease. Its eyes shimmered with layered colour—violet, silver, something older than both. There was no hostility in its expression. Only observation.

  “You burn too bright to be led astray,” it spoke. An eerie voice, ancient.

  Kurai didn’t move. “Then don’t try.”

  The fae tilted its head. “We don’t intend to. You are not for us.”

  Its gaze flicked in the direction Astrid had gone, though the trees already pulsed and shifted to hide her trail. The forest felt alive now—quiet, but watching.

  “We take the one who does not yet know what she carries,” the fae continued. “Let her show us what bridges are built from.”

  Kurai’s voice was low. “She’s not yours to take.” His eyes flickered—gold, ancient, and wrong. Not light, but something older than flame.

  The fae stilled—not in fear, but recognition. Memory. The fae backed off slightly.

  “We do not take,” it said, almost offended. “We offer. If she stays, it is her choice.”

  A beat.

  “Most stay," it added with faint amusement. "She will not be the first to forget the fire she walked beside."

  ---

  She turned, expecting Kurai—expecting his voice, his shadow, his steadiness.

  But he was gone.

  "Kurai?" Her voice cracked, unsteady. "Kurai!"

  No answer.

  "Astrid, please, where are you?"

  Charlie.

  It echoed through the trees like a dream she hadn’t meant to wake from.

  She ran again. Faster. Breath catching. Branches clawed at her robe. Roots grabbed at her boots.

  "Charlie!" she called, heart hammering. "Charlie, I’m here!"

  The forest opened into a clearing bathed in soft light.

  And there—kneeling, trembling—was a small figure.

  “Charlie?”

  But the girl didn’t move.

  Astrid slowed, confused. The shape was off. The clothes weren’t right. And when the girl looked up—

  Astrid stopped cold.

  It wasn’t Charlie.

  It was her.

  Younger. Smaller. In her favorite pyjamas as a child. 5 years old.

  The age she first realized no one was coming.

  The age she started saying she was fine.

  The girl’s eyes were red from crying.

  “You’re not real,” Astrid whispered. But it came out thin. Unsure.

  The little girl said nothing. She just curled tighter into herself, shoulders shaking.

  “You’re not real,” she said again. Louder this time. Trying to break this illusion.

  But the child looked up.

  “I’m all alone.”

  Astrid flinched.

  Something in that voice got her, an echo of a memory.

  “No, you’re not,” she said, crouching slightly. “I’m here now.”

  The child’s voice trembled. “You always say that. But it’s never true.”

  Her lip wobbled. “They all leave. Even him. He says he won’t, but he will.”

  Astrid shook her head. “No. That’s not true.”

  “Then why did it hurt?”

  Astrid’s breath hitched.

  “Because we’re not strong,” the child said. “We just pretend. We’re weak. And we’ll always be alone, not even mummy and daddy love us. We shouldn’t have been born. All we do is mess everything up. You know its true.”

  Astrid said nothing.

  Because she believed it too, this was that voice, the small one that always doubted her, told her she isn’t good enough.

  Behind the child, the air shimmered. A second figure stepped into the clearing.

  Tall. Elegant. Wrong.

  A fae.

  It smiled.

  “You’ve come far, little bridge.”

  Astrid rose slowly.

  “this is your doing.” she said. “This isn’t real.”

  “Isn’t it?” the fae said softly, glancing at the girl. “She feels real to you. A thought made flesh, a memory still weeping.

  Not all lies are false, little bridge.

  Some truths wear prettier masks.”

  Astrid glanced back at the little girl, herself. So small, so innocent and so alone.

  That’s what you are deep down, you wear a mask for everyone, even yourself. Deep down your still that scared little girl, begging to be loved.

  “I cant stay, I need to get home to charlie.” She looked away, fighting back her tears.

  “What if you never get home? Never see her again, if you stay you can be together forever.”

  The forest shimmered again—and Charlie appeared.

  Happy. Smiling.

  She stood beneath the arms of a massive silver tree, waving.

  “Astrid!” she called, laughing. “Come see—there’s a lake! It sings.”

  Astrid’s chest ached.

  She knew it wasn’t real.

  But gods—it felt like it could be.

  The fae turned toward the child.

  A silver dagger appeared in its hand.

  “Or,” it said, voice like wind through reeds, “leave. Wake up. Walk the path again. But first—kill the part of you that cannot follow.”

  “Kill the weakness. Kill the fear. Kill her.” Astrid looked over at herself, small, afraid and begging her to stay.

  The fae placed the dagger in her hand.

  No weight.

  No warmth.

  Just choice.

  Astrid stared down at the child.

  She could finally end it? End the suffering of this girl?

  I can’t, she doesn’t really want to disappear; to never be born she wants to be loved to have someone rescue her.

  Her fingers loosened on the blade.

  I’m tired.

  I don’t want to carry everything anymore.

  The illusion shimmered around her. Charlie, the trees, the singing lake.

  Peace.

  She turned, slowly, toward the lake.

  Charlie stood there reading her encyclopedia. Smiling like she used to, bright and full of life. She looked up when Astrid stepped forward.

  She sat down next to her, “hey kiddo, what you reading?”

  Charlie showed her the book, "You know the colour of water isn’t actually blue?"

  Astrid blinked. "What?"

  "It looks blue because of the way water absorbs and scatters light. It’s technically very faintly blue on its own, but most of the colour we see comes from the sky. People used to think it was just a reflection. But it’s not."

  Charlie. I miss you so much.

  And Astrid—Gods—she couldn’t help it. She pulled her into a hug. Let herself sink into it. Charlie felt so warm. So real.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “I miss you,” Astrid whispered. “So much.”

  “But I’m right here? Don’t cry” Astrid just held her tighter.

  Tears slid silently down Astrid’s cheeks.

  “Remember, crying is beautiful, it shows you love something, even if it hurts” she explained. “I want this to be real.”

  She pulled back just enough to meet Charlie’s eyes.

  “But it’s not. And I can’t stay. Not yet.”

  She brushed a hand through her sister’s hair then caressing her cheek, smiling through the tears.

  “I will come home,” she whispered. “I promise. I love you.”

  She got up, hand still in Charlie’s and stepped away till their hands finally separated.

  And looked back at the child’s face—and remembered Charlie’s tiny fingers gripping her hand, it was the day she was born, and Astrid swore she would do anything for her.

  I am coming home kiddo but on my terms.

  The fae’s voice followed her, soft and coiled like mist.

  “You walk from the dream with tears in your eyes,

  But still, you carry the ghost.

  You know the price. Oneself must end, for the other to go.

  You are flame, little bridge—but flame burns both ways.”

  Astrid turned and looked into the faes eyes.

  “I’m not going to kill her.”

  The fae stilled.

  “She is your wound.”

  “No,” Astrid said. “She’s, my reason.”

  “She slows you down.”

  “She keeps me human.”

  Astrid knelt. Setting the dagger on the moss. Then reached for the girl.

  “I’m not leaving you behind this time, I will always protect you. You are what makes me stronger”

  The child hesitated—then stepped into her arms.

  The fae tilted its head one last time, unreadable.

  "A choice made in shadow still echoes in light.

  The wound will walk, but not without ache.

  We do not chase what chooses to burn—

  but when the embers stir again, we will be here, little bridge."

  The illusion shattered.

  The silver tree. The singing lake. Charlie’s laughter.

  Gone.

  Only the forest remained.

  Still. Watching.

  And Astrid stood alone again.

  She could still feel Charlie in her arms.

  She collapsed to the ground, tears pouring out, sobs shaking her chest.

  I promise I will find a way home.

  Footsteps.

  Then arms. Strong, grounding.

  Kurai wrapped himself around her without a word.

  "It’s okay," he murmured into her hair. "I’m here. I’ve got you."”