The Forest of the Forgotten

Amnity was elbow-deep in organizing her festival booth when she heard footsteps on the path to her cottage. She looked up from the wooden crates she'd been arranging, her heart doing a small skip when she saw Ellie approaching through the dappled afternoon light.

But something was off about the way Ellie moved—too controlled, too measured, like she was consciously thinking about each step. It reminded Amnity uncomfortably of the way Ellie had walked through that overwhelming city, alert and assessing everything around her.

"You got my letter," Amnity said, straightening up and brushing dust from her apron. She'd spent the morning carefully packing her healing draughts and salves into padded boxes, arranging everything so it would display beautifully at tonight's festival. The Glowing Imp Root potion sat in a place of honor, glowing softly through its dark glass bottle like captured starlight.

"I did." Ellie's voice was steady, but there was something underneath it that made Amnity's stomach clench with worry. "Thank you for the invitation. I'd love to." Ellie forced a smile, gently.

The words should have made Amnity's heart soar. She'd been hoping, dreaming of this moment for months. But the way Ellie said it—flat, almost clinical—made it feel less like an acceptance and more like checking an item off a list.

"That's wonderful," Amnity said carefully, studying Ellie's face. "I'm glad. I was worried you might be too distracted by... everything else."

Ellie's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I can handle both things at once."

"I didn't mean—" Amnity started, then stopped herself. This brittle, defensive version of Ellie was new territory, and she wasn't sure how to navigate it. "Would you like to help me finish setting up? I could use another pair of hands with the heavy crates."

For a moment, Ellie's expression softened slightly. "Of course."

They worked in relative silence, carrying boxes and setting up the wooden display boards that would hold Amnity's wares. But even as Ellie helped arrange bottles and jars with practiced efficiency, Amnity could feel the tension radiating from her like heat from a forge. Every movement was precise, controlled, as if Ellie were afraid that relaxing her guard even slightly might let something dangerous escape.

"The potion turned out perfectly," Amnity offered, hoping to break through whatever wall Ellie had built around herself. "Look at the color—it's exactly what Grandmother's notes said it should be."

She held up the bottle containing the Glowing Imp Root draught, and the liquid inside pulsed with gentle bioluminescence, casting dancing patterns of light across their faces. It had taken her three days of careful brewing, but the result was everything she'd hoped for—a healing draught powerful enough to mend broken bones, cure fevers, even ease the deep magic-sickness that sometimes afflicted mirror-walkers.

Ellie glanced at the bottle, but her attention seemed to drift almost immediately. "It's beautiful," she said, but the words felt automatic, like she was saying what she thought Amnity wanted to hear rather than what she actually felt.

The hollow praise stung more than outright criticism would have. Amnity set the bottle down carefully, her hands trembling slightly.

"What did Eleazar tell you?" she asked quietly.

Ellie's hands stilled on the box she'd been unpacking. "Enough."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the answer I'm giving you right now." Ellie's voice carried a sharp edge that Amnity had never heard before. "Can we please just focus on getting ready for tonight?"

Amnity stared at Ellie—her date, apparently—and felt a cold knot forming in her stomach. This person helping her set up festival displays looked like Ellie, sounded like Ellie, but acted like someone wearing Ellie's face as a disguise.

"No," Amnity said quietly. "No, it's not enough."

Ellie looked up sharply, her dark eyes flashing with something that might have been anger or might have been pain. "What do you want from me, Amnity?"

"I want you to stop acting like I'm a stranger you're being polite to," Amnity shot back, her own patience finally fraying. "I want you to stop pretending that everything is fine when you're clearly falling apart inside. I want you to talk to me like I'm someone you actually care about instead of someone you're just tolerating."

The words hung between them like a challenge. Around them, the peaceful afternoon sounds of Nova continued—birds calling, wind stirring the leaves, the distant sound of other festival-goers preparing for the evening's celebration. But in the space between the two girls, the silence felt heavy and brittle.

Ellie set down the box she'd been holding and ran her hands through her hair, the controlled mask slipping for just a moment to reveal the exhaustion underneath.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice smaller than before. "I'm not... I'm not handling any of this very well."

"What did he tell you?" Amnity asked again, gentler this time.

Ellie looked out toward the forest, toward the path that led to The Hole and all its secrets. "He told me that I wasn't found. I was taken." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "He told me that somewhere in that world we visited, there are people who probably spent years looking for me. People who loved me and lost me and never knew what happened."

The confession hit Amnity like a physical blow. She sank down onto one of the wooden crates, her legs suddenly unsteady.

"He stole you," she breathed.

"He says he saved me," Ellie corrected, but there was no conviction in her voice. "He says my original family was... complicated. Dangerous. He says he was protecting me."

"Do you believe him?"

Ellie was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on something Amnity couldn't see. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I keep thinking about that world, about how familiar it felt, how right it felt to be there. And then I think about this life, about you and Nova and everything I've built here, and I don't know which one is real."

She turned to look at Amnity directly for the first time since arriving, and Amnity was startled by the raw vulnerability in her eyes.

"I keep thinking about the person I might have been," Ellie continued. "The life I might have lived. The family I might have had. And I know it's not fair to you or anyone else, but I can't stop wondering what I lost when Eleazar decided to 'save' me."

Amnity felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. This was the Ellie she recognized—uncertain, hurt, but honest about her pain instead of hiding behind brittle politeness.

"I'm sorry," Amnity said. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, and I'm sorry I didn't understand what you were going through."

Ellie managed a weak smile. "You couldn't have understood. I didn't understand it myself until yesterday."

They sat in silence for a while, surrounded by the carefully arranged displays for tonight's festival. The healing potions glowed softly in their bottles, the dried herbs filled the air with their comforting scents, and everything looked exactly as it should for a perfect evening of celebration.

But Amnity couldn't shake the feeling that they were both just playing roles now—festival vendor and supportive date—while the real questions about identity, belonging, and what it meant to love someone whose entire history had been built on lies remained carefully unexamined.

"We should finish setting up," Ellie said eventually, standing and brushing off her pants. "The festival starts at sunset, doesn't it?"

Amnity nodded, watching as Ellie picked up another box and began arranging its contents with the same mechanical precision as before. The moment of vulnerability was over, the walls back up, the careful distance restored.

But as they worked side by side in the golden afternoon light, Amnity couldn't help wondering which version of tonight they were preparing for—the romantic evening she'd imagined when she wrote her letter, or something else entirely. Something that felt more like a goodbye than a beginning.

The festival would be beautiful, she was sure of it. The question was whether either of them would be present enough to actually enjoy it.