Chapter 3 — Echoes of the Past

The Temple Clearing stood in stillness, bathed in the last spill of amber light. Kael Maddox lingered at its edge, broad-shouldered and unmoving, as if carved from the same stone as the altar that stood at the center—weathered smooth by time and ritual.

The air held a quiet weight. Old magic lived here. Not loud or showy, but deep-rooted—the kind that settled into the marrow and stayed.

Kael’s gaze locked onto the altar. He closed his eyes for a breath, steadying himself.

Rae was back.

The words had come hours ago, carried by Marcus like a warning dressed as news. Rae Calloway—back in Willow Creek.

He didn’t know what clenched tighter: guilt, dread… or the dangerous flicker of something else. Hope.

His fists curled, nails biting into skin. The clearing offered no answer. It never did. But the silence had shifted—tilted slightly, like the forest had turned one ear toward him.

She’d stood here once, Rae. Not during a rite. Just a stolen afternoon. They were younger. She'd touched the edge of the altar, smiling at how cold it felt.

"Your world’s heavier than it looks," she’d said.

And he’d smiled back. Just once. Just for her.

Now that smile was a ghost.

A breeze stirred the moss—faint, but wrong. Something brushed the edge of his senses. Not dangerous. Not yet. But unfamiliar.

The wolves called it blood resonance—when the forest remembered you… or someone you didn’t bring.

Kael didn’t know exactly what had shifted. But in his gut, he felt it take shape.

Rae hadn’t come back alone.

And whatever followed her carried more than memory.

He turned abruptly, boots crunching on old pine needles. Behind him, the altar stood in fading light.

Still and silent.

As if it too was holding its breath. Rain had come and gone, leaving Willow Creek soaked in silence. The cobbled streets shimmered with thin puddles, each one reflecting a sky the color of bruised silver. Rae Calloway walked with measured steps, one hand gripping her daughter’s a little too tightly. She wasn’t sure if it was to steady herself—or to anchor Lila.

The air was thick with damp bark, old stone, and something older still. The kind of scent that clung more to memory than to fabric.

People were watching.

From behind curtains, through warped glass panes. Nothing overt—but Rae felt it, the way she used to sense a storm before it broke. Quick glances. Silences that followed footsteps. Faces that vanished when she turned her head.

She kept her chin up.

Lila, by contrast, moved like light on water. Her curls bounced in the mist, her eyes wide as she read painted signs and traced the edges of crooked porches with her gaze. When the scent of cinnamon drifted from a bakery window, she tugged Rae’s coat.

“Mama, can we go in? Just for a minute?”

Rae gave a small shake of her head. “Not today, love. We’ve got things to do.”

Lila didn’t argue, but her pace slowed. Then she paused mid-step.

Rae felt the shift instantly. “What is it?”

Lila’s eyes fixed on a second-story window across the street. “Someone was watching us,” she said. Her voice was soft, but steady. “But they weren’t really... there.”

A chill moved through Rae—not cold, but old. She didn’t look back.

“This place takes time to get used to,” she offered.

Lila frowned. “It’s not the place,” she whispered. “It was a person. But empty. Like smoke wearing a coat.”

Rae’s stomach tightened. Her fingers gripped Lila’s hand harder than intended. They walked on.

The herbal shop stood near the end of the street, half-swallowed by ivy and shadow. Its paint had long since peeled, and the wooden sign above the door had faded into illegibility. But Rae knew it. She’d known it in dreams.

She stopped in front of it.

The bell above the door hung crooked, rust flaking from its edges. Her hand hovered over the handle, then closed around it.

Inside, the scent hit her like a memory snapping into place—cedar, soap, and lemon balm. The same blend that had clung to her grandmother’s shawls.

The quiet here wasn’t absence. It was presence, held still.

“Stay close,” she murmured to Lila, reaching into her coat for a crumpled list—though she already knew they wouldn’t need it.

The pharmacy was nearly empty.

It smelled of lavender and dried sage. The wood was worn, the counters faded. Rae was halfway to the back shelves when a voice stopped her cold.

“Rae Calloway.”

She turned slowly.

Evelyn stood behind the counter, wrapped in her usual forest-colored shawl. Her silver braid had barely changed in all these years. Her face was weathered, her presence unchanged—grounded, still, watchful.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she said.

“I didn’t think I’d come back,” Rae replied.

Evelyn’s eyes shifted to Lila, who stood half behind her mother, curious but quiet.

“And this must be your daughter.”

Lila gave a small wave. “Hi.”

Evelyn smiled. “You see more than you speak. That’s good.”

Rae opened her mouth, then closed it. Evelyn didn’t need prompting.

“There’s tea in the back,” she said. “If you’ve got ten minutes.”

Rae hesitated. But Lila looked up at her — and she nodded.

The back room hadn’t changed.

Same chipped table, same bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling, same mismatched mugs. Even the air smelled the same—mint, woodsmoke, something warm and clean.

“She never let me in here,” Rae said, watching Evelyn pour the tea.

“That was your grandmother’s way. She believed you had to earn certain places. By listening, not by asking.”

Rae didn’t answer. She sat down, fingers curled around the cup.

Lila wandered to a shelf, fingertips brushing dried flowers.

“What smells like rain?” she asked.

Evelyn smiled faintly. “You do. You just don’t know it yet.”

Rae watched her daughter carefully—the way her shoulders moved, how her expression shifted when she wasn’t being looked at. It was like watching herself, but slightly out of rhythm.

“She draws trees,” Rae said. “But they’re not normal. The trunks bend like ribs. The roots look like fingers.”

Evelyn’s voice lowered. “The forest has always remembered her kind. You used to feel it too—before you taught yourself not to.”

Rae’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t come here to dig that up.”

“No,” Evelyn said gently. “You came because you couldn’t keep running from it.”

A beat.

Then Rae asked the question she’d been circling since she arrived.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Evelyn set her cup down.

“Not wrong. Shifting. There’s someone back in these woods who shouldn’t be. Someone who once called himself Alpha.”

Rae’s throat went dry.

“Lucien.”

Evelyn nodded slowly. “He wanted control—not just of the pack. Of the forest itself. Thought he could bend it to his will. Thought power should be taken, not given. When the others saw what he was becoming, they cast him out.”

Rae stared at her. “And now he’s back?”

“He never really left,” Evelyn said. “He’s been learning. Changing. Whatever patience he had… it’s run out.”

Rae felt her stomach twist. “Why now?”

“Because the forest is listening again. Because your daughter is here. And Lucien—he doesn’t just want territory. He wants influence. Reach. Legacy.”

“Lila,” Rae said. It wasn’t a question.

“She feels the forest. He knows that. She’s a bridge to something he can’t touch otherwise. If he turns her—” Evelyn didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

Rae pushed back from the table, the air suddenly too thick.

“What do I do?”

“Don’t isolate her,” Evelyn said. “And don’t pretend this is something you can handle alone. She needs to understand what she is. And you… you need to stop pretending you never felt it too.”

Rae stood to leave, mug in hand, but her fingers wouldn’t let go. Not yet.

She stared at the dried herbs above the shelves, at the motes of dust drifting in the sunlight.

“I used to hear the forest,” she said quietly. “When I was a kid, it was... everywhere. In the way the wind moved, the way the shadows bent. I didn’t know what it meant, not really. But it felt like... home.”

Evelyn didn’t interrupt. Her silence listened.

“My grandmother said it was a gift. That the women in our family were different. That the forest listened to us, and we were meant to listen back.”

Rae’s voice faltered. She looked down at her hands.

“But when I found out I was pregnant—” She stopped again. Swallowed hard. “I felt something shift. Not just in me, but around me. Whatever lived among the trees… it understood more than I dared admit.”

Evelyn stepped closer, saying nothing.

“I was afraid,” Rae said. “Afraid that if I stayed open to it, it would claim her too. That it would mark her before she ever had a choice.”

A pause. Then:

“So I closed myself off. Cut the cord. Buried everything.”

Evelyn’s eyes softened.

“You did it to protect her.”

Rae nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I let it go, if I was just... ordinary, maybe she’d have a chance to be.”

“She’s not,” Evelyn said gently. “Neither are you.”

Rae’s laugh was short. Hollow. “I know. I think I always knew. But part of me hoped… maybe it would skip her.”

“She inherited more than blood, Rae. She inherited what you walked away from.”

“That’s what terrifies me,” Rae whispered. “Because I don’t know if I did the right thing. And now I don’t know how to guide her back.”

Evelyn placed a hand over Rae’s.

“Then start by remembering who you are. Not what you feared. Not what you ran from. But who you were before you let it go.”

Outside, the rain had stopped, but the air was thick with something heavier than mist. Rae felt it settle on her skin as they turned the corner—like the town itself had paused.

And then she saw him.

Kael stood in the middle of the path. No movement, no surprise. Just there. Waiting.

Her breath caught. For a second, the street blurred around him, like the rest of the world had fallen away.

She hadn’t seen him in years. And yet her body remembered him instantly—the way he held tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes searched a place before his words ever did.

Rae gripped Lila’s hand tighter.

“You knew we were back,” she said, voice tighter than intended.

Kael didn’t blink. “Yes.”

“How long?”

“Since the road.”

“You followed us?”

“I watched. Not the same thing.”

Rae stepped forward. Her jaw was set, but inside her chest everything flickered—surprise, anger, something deeper she didn’t want to name.

“You had no right.”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Kael said quietly. “But I had to know you were safe.”

“We don’t need your protection.”

Kael didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. The silence that followed felt heavier than any retort.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Rae’s breath hitched. His eyes had shifted—to Lila.

She moved instinctively, putting herself between them.

“She’s not your responsibility.”

“No,” he said. “But she’s not just yours either. Not anymore.”

Something snapped in her at that. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice stayed sharp.

“You don’t get to say that. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

Kael exhaled slowly. He looked older now. Not in years, but in weight—like he’d been carrying something too long and too far.

“She’s why Lucien is here,” he said. “Or why he’s staying.”

Rae stared. “Lucien?”

“He’s been circling the edges of the forest. Pushing closer. I thought it was just about the territory. But it’s not. He knows she’s here.”

Rae’s heart pounded in her throat.

“What does he want from her?”

Kael’s jaw clenched. “The same thing he always wanted—control. Power. He thinks she’s a key.”

“To the forest?”

“To something older than that.”

Rae stepped back, pulling Lila closer. Her mind was racing, body tense like it was ready to fight or flee. She hated this feeling—being two steps behind something already in motion.

Kael finally broke eye contact, looking past her down the fog-filled street.

“I can’t stop him alone.”

“You think I can?”

“No. But she might.”

Rae felt her breath catch again. She didn’t know whether it was fear or fury that filled her chest.

“You need to leave,” she said flatly. “Now.”

Kael looked at her for a long moment. There was something raw in his eyes—unspoken, unfinished.

Then he nodded. “I’ll stay out of sight. But I’m not walking away.”

He turned and disappeared into the mist the same way he’d appeared—silently, completely.

Rae remained motionless long after he vanished, her grip on Lila’s hand too tight, too telling.

“Mama?” Lila whispered. “Was that… someone you used to love?”

Rae said nothing. But her silence was full.