Or do they?, Emma asked herself as doubts bubbled in her mind, was this real? Or is she just hallucinating?

  A soft chuckle echoed in her mind, bringing her out of her doubts.. You’re right. Trees don’t talk. But I’m talking.. Because of you.

  Emma’s lips parted slightly, momentarily stunned.

  "Because of... me?"

  Yes.

  Another thought bubbled up, something that sent a shiver down her spine. Wait... does this mean what Luna said was true?

  She took a slow breath, composing herself. "So... you can only talk to me through my mind?"

  Yes. We all can.

  Her expression shifted. "...We all?"

  Any of us.

  Emma blinked. She stared at the tree for a moment before an idea formed. Slowly, she knelt down, scooping a handful of dirt into her palm. The earth was cool against her fingers, fine grains slipping between the creases of her skin.

  For a moment, she simply stared at it.

  Then...

  Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello…

  Voices. Multitudes of them, small and overlapping, whispering into her mind.

  Emma gasped, her hands trembling as she let the dirt slip from her fingers. She stumbled back, her heart racing. The overwhelming surge of voices pressed against her mind, too many, too fast. She clutched her head, eyes wide in disbelief.

  She could hear them. All of them.

  The trees, the dirt... every part of the world held a voice, waiting to be heard.

  Her breathing slowed as the shock settled into quiet realization. If things had really turned out like this, then.. what else was possible?

  She steadied herself, her mind still processing the weight of what she just found out and with measured steps, she returned to the tree, pressing her hand against its rough bark once more.

  If I may ask… do you know where the Tower of Mutation is?

  A brief pause.

  No. I don’t know the location.

  Emma exhaled softly, disappointment creeping in. But of course, how could it? It was rooted here, unable to move or see beyond its surroundings.

  But then...

  However…

  Her fingers curled slightly against the bark.

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  Some humans.. four in number passed through here some days ago. They were speaking of the Tower of Mutation.

  Emma’s grip on the tree tightened as anticipation surged through her veins.

  "Really?" she whispered.

  Yes.

  The moment Emma heard those words, a flicker of relief settled in her chest. It was the only good news she had received all day, and for a moment, the constant weight of uncertainty felt just a little lighter.

  "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere, though still laced with the weariness of the long day. Then, after a brief pause, she hesitated before asking, "But… do you remember what any of them were wearing? And if it isn't too much to ask, could you tell me which way they went?"

  The tree remained silent for a moment. The wind brushed through its branches, rustling the leaves above Emma’s head in a soft, whispering hush. Then, finally, the voice returned, flowing smoothly into her mind.

  One of them was an adult, the tree said, its tone thoughtful, as if sifting through distant memories. He wore a dark blue trench coat.

  Emma's unique white eyes sharpened at the detail, her mind quickly latching onto it. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  "As for their path… to your left. Follow it straight ahead. That is all I know."

  Emma gave a small nod, exhaling slightly. "Alright," she said, her voice softer this time. "Thank you for your help."

  With that, she took a step back, casting one last glance at the towering tree before turning toward the path it had indicated.

  She walked.

  The air carried a crisp, earthy scent, tinged with the faint sweetness of distant flowers. The ground beneath her boots was a mixture of soft soil and scattered leaves, each step sending faint crunches into the quiet. As she moved, her mind began to form a plan, weaving together the best course of action with what little information she had.

  Every time I reach a certain distance… she thought, I’ll ask another tree. If they’ve seen someone in a dark blue trench coat, they can guide me.

  And so, she did.

  With each stretch of land she crossed, she stopped. Each time, she reached out with her mind, feeling the ancient, slow thoughts of the trees, asking if they had seen the man. And each time, they responded, their voices like soft murmurs within her consciousness, pointing her toward the next direction.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Five times, in five different areas.

  Each response felt like a thread weaving together a map in her mind, the fragmented directions slowly forming a clearer picture. It wasn't a perfect path, but it was a trail.. one she could follow.

  The sky overhead had begun its slow descent into dusk, the golden light bleeding into hues of deepening orange. Shadows stretched longer, the air growing cooler as evening prepared to settle in. The trees thickened as she moved further, their silhouettes darkening against the dimming sky.

  Then, she heard it.

  A whisper..

  At first, it was faint... so light that she barely registered it, mistaking it for the usual breeze that slithered through the trees. But as she kept walking, it grew clearer, more distinct. It wasn’t just the wind.

  It was speaking.

  Emma slowed her pace. Her body tensed slightly as she listened, her breath steadying, her focus sharpening.

  The voice did not come as a singular sound. It was layered.. many voices speaking at once, smooth yet overlapping, as though carried through an invisible current that curled and twisted through the air.

  Yet, despite their complexity, she understood them.

  "Le… le… left…"

  The word echoed, reverberating in her mind.

  Emma blinked.

  She took a moment to process, then exhaled softly before nodding. "Alright…" she murmured, then adjusted her course, pivoting left as instructed.

  She stepped forward.

  The path darkened almost immediately. The trees here were thicker, their trunks standing like silent sentinels. The air had shifted.. denser now, pressing lightly against her skin. It wasn’t suffocating, but there was an unmistakable weight to it, like the hushed anticipation before a storm.

  She felt it with every step she took.

  Still, she continued onward.

  Leaves rustled faintly beneath her boots, their dry edges cracking ever so softly in the quiet. The deeper she went, the more she could hear the wind again, whispering through the branches above.

  "Right…"

  The overlapping voices of the wind spoke again, fluid and unwavering,

  "Are you sure?" Emma asked, her voice quiet yet firm.

  The wind stirred. A gentle gust brushed past her, sending strands of her silver-white hair swaying lightly against her shoulders. Then, the voices returned.

  "Yes…"

  Emma exhaled through her nose, nodding once. "Alright."

  And with that, she turned, her path leading her deeper into the unknown.