On the third day, the veil sent her a guide.
As dusk fell, the forest around Elira brightened with a strange glow. Not firelight, not moonlight—something in between. And from behind a fallen log emerged a fox. Not just any fox: it was small, with silver fur and eyes like lantern flames. Hanging from its neck was a tiny glowing lantern that gave off a soft pulse.
The fox said nothing, yet its gaze met hers with knowing.
It turned and trotted into the woods. Elira followed.
They walked for what felt like hours. The deeper they went, the more the world changed. Trees grew at angles that defied reason. Leaves shimmered with stardust. Time stretched and folded.
Eventually, the fox paused at the edge of a clearing. In the center, a pool mirrored the night sky perfectly—even though clouds covered the real one above.
"This is where truths hide," a voice said, not from the fox, but from the lantern it bore.
Elira looked into the water and saw not her reflection, but her future self. Older, stronger, standing at the edge of a great gate woven of light.
The vision vanished in ripples.
When she looked up, the fox was gone—but the lantern remained, floating beside her.
From then on, wherever she went, it lit the way.