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"The river is speaking," Thorn said.

Lily knelt and touched the water. It was warm, and it hummed with a low, familiar song. She closed her eyes and listened.

"Follow me," the river seemed to say.

She walked along its bank, the little people following. The stream led them to a place they had never seen-a grove of glowing flowers, their petals shaped like tiny stars.

"What is this place?" Bramble asked.

Lily touched a flower. It pulsed with light.

"I think it's a memory," she said. "A memory of the First Ones."

The flowers began to glow brighter, forming images in the air-the First Ones planting the Moonstone, the first little people building their homes, the forest growing tall.

"The river remembered," Lily said. "And it wanted to show us."

The little people watched, their eyes wide.

Thorn stepped forward. "We had forgotten our own history. Thank you, Lily."

Lily smiled. "The river remembered for you."

She cupped her hands and drank from the stream. The water tasted like starlight and roots.

From that day on, the river's water was always clear, and the flowers continued to bloom. They reminded everyone that the past was never really gone-it lived in the soil, in the roots, in the water that flowed through Fernweald.

Lily had learned that stories could be carried by the land itself, and that the deepest magic was the one that remembered. She would always listen to the river, and she would always honor the memory it carried. The river was the heart of Fernweald, and she was grateful to have heard its song.

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