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The Oracle watched her from the doorway, her warm eyes twinkling.

"This is your space now. It used to belong to my daughter," the Oracle said, stepping aside. "No one will disturb you here."

Seren's throat felt tight.

Before she could thank her, the Oracle placed something in her hands.

A laptop.

Seren blinked. "You have internet?"

The Oracle chuckled. "We don't communicate with smoke signals, dear." She smiled, soft and knowing. "I thought you might want to see your mother's face."

The words hit harder than Seren expected.

Her fingers curled around the laptop, the weight of it unexpectedly grounding.

The Oracle sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from Seren's face.

"Did you know I was going to stay with you?," she murmured.

"Well, my crystal ball told me. I had to go with it" the oracle replied, with a mischievous grin.

Seren didn't think.

She just stepped forward and hugged her again.

The Oracle didn't hesitate, her arms strong and steady, her warmth unwavering.

Seren swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"Thank you," she whispered.

When she finally pulled back, the Oracle smiled. "Your luggage has been delivered. Rest now, child."

Seren nodded, stepping toward the window.

The forest stretched out beyond the glass, endless and whispering.

For the first time since she had arrived—

She had a place to breathe.

Home.

Chapter 25

Seren lay awake under the summer blanket, the warmth of the day still lingering in the air. The moonlight streamed through the loft window, casting pale silver patterns on the wooden floor. Somewhere outside, she could hear the rustling of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, and the quiet stirrings of the night creatures moving unseen through the trees.

Her fingers curled into the quilt, the fabric soft and familiar beneath her fingertips.

She traced the patchwork patterns, following the delicate stitches that had been lovingly hand-sewn. Each square was different, yet together they formed something whole, something beautiful.

A small rabbit, its ears perked up, stitched in warm brown thread. A tiny honeybee, its wings translucent, hovering near embroidered wildflowers that trailed along the fabric. Birds with delicate wings, stitched in soft blues and greys, scattered among vines and tiny leaves.

It was a quilt that felt alive, as though it held memories within its seams, the hands that had sewn it weaving more than just fabric together.

Seren sighed, pressing her palm against it. She had survived her first day.