Elarien followed the silver wolf deeper into the woods. Now that she had spoken her true name, the forest felt different—brighter somehow, like it had been waiting for her to remember.
Birdsong echoed softly through the trees, as if the birds had heard her name too and were singing it back to her.
Up ahead, the path curved gently around a tall hill covered in golden grass. At the very top stood a tree so wide and tall that it seemed to touch the clouds. Its bark was dark and smooth, and its leaves shimmered like tiny mirrors in the sunlight.
The wolf stopped near the base of the tree and looked up.
This is the Memory Tree.
Elarien walked closer, drawn to it without even thinking. As she stood beneath its branches, she could feel something humming in the air—like the tree was alive and listening.
"What does it remember?" she asked quietly.
Everything.
The wolf padded toward the trunk and rested one paw gently against it.
All who come here leave behind pieces of their hearts. Some leave joy. Some leave sorrow. Some leave truth.
Elarien reached out and touched the tree. The bark was cool, but not cold. It felt like water and stone at the same time. A rush of feeling ran up her arm, like she'd opened a door to something old and deep.
Suddenly, her mind filled with images.
A woman with long hair running through the forest, laughing. A baby wrapped in a blue blanket, sleeping peacefully. A silver ring passed from one hand to another.
Her hand flew to her chest where the ring now sat on its string.
"My mother," she whispered.
She saw her again—this time standing beneath this very tree, eyes shining with hope and sadness. She was whispering something into the bark, her lips moving gently, as if speaking a promise.
She came here before she left you.
Elarien nodded slowly. "I can feel her."
Then you are ready.
The wolf sat beside her and raised his head.
Speak your memory. Let the tree carry it.
Elarien closed her eyes. She thought of all the nights she spent wondering who she really was. She thought of Nana's careful smile, and the way the wind seemed to follow her. She thought of the wolf, of the voice inside her, of the dream and the howl.
And then she whispered:
"I am Elarien. I was lost, but I am finding my way. I will not be afraid of who I am."
The tree shivered.
Not from wind—but from the words.
Its leaves shimmered brighter, and for a moment, a soft golden light wrapped around Elarien like a warm hug.
When she opened her eyes, the wolf was watching her.
You've planted your truth. It will grow with the forest.
Elarien took a deep breath. The fear in her chest was gone. In its place was something new.
Strength.
Not loud. Not sharp.
But steady.
Like the roots of the Memory Tree.