Where the forest remembers Ch6

Aditi couldn't breathe.

The warm breath against her neck vanished.

Slowly...

She turned around.

The woman in the red sari stood less than a foot away.

She wasn't floating..transparent...

She looked... ordinary.

Rainwater dripped from the edge of her sari.

Her long hair clung to her face.

Her bare feet were stained with mud.

Her smile was unbearably sad.

"You..." Aditi whispered.

The woman nodded.

"You've been following me."

The woman shook her head.

"No."

Her voice was soft, almost exhausted.

"You've been finding me."

Aditi stumbled backward.

"Who are you?"

For a long time, the woman didn't answer.

Instead, she reached into the folds of her saree and removed something wrapped in old cloth.

A camera.

Its leather strap had almost disintegrated.

She held it out.

Aditi recognized it instantly.

It was the same old camera she'd found in the watchtower.

"But..."

"I already found this."

The woman's eyes filled with grief.

"You found another one."

Aditi frowned.

"What do you mean?"

The woman looked toward the endless trees.

"There have been many."

She sat beneath the banyan tree, as though she had repeated this conversation a thousand times before.

"I don't remember my name anymore," she said quietly.

"I don't remember where I came from."

"I don't remember my family."

"I don't remember my own voice."

She touched the tree's bark.

"But I remember this."

"The forest lies."

Aditi felt a chill crawl up her spine.

"What are you?"

The woman looked at her.

"I'm what happens..."

"...when someone remembers one thing."

"Just one."

"The forest doesn't want bodies," she continued.

"It wants empty people."

"It eats memories slowly."

"It starts with little things."

"Names."

"Faces."

"Promises."

"Birthdays."

"Voices."

"And when only one memory remains..."

She looked directly into Aditi's eyes.

"It leaves you alive."

"Why?"

"So you'll bring others."

The words settled over the clearing like ash.

Aditi thought of the photographs.

The smiling figures hidden between the trees.

"They're all..."

"They're all still here," the woman said.

"They don't know they're dead."

"They don't know they're alive."

"They only know the forest."

Aditi shook her head violently.

"No.I'm leaving."

"You can't."

"There has to be a way."

"There was."

The woman looked down.

"I forgot it."

Silence.

"I remembered the wrong thing."

"What did you remember?" Aditi asked.

The woman smiled weakly.

"My little brother."

"For years..."

"...he was the only memory I had left."

"I repeated his name every day."

"Every night."

"I thought if I remembered him..."

"...I'd remain myself."

She closed her eyes.

"But memories fade."

"I don't remember his face anymore."

"I don't remember his voice."

"I only remember..."

"...that I loved someone."

Aditi felt tears sting her eyes.

"What happens when that last memory disappears?"

The woman's smile trembled.

"You become part of the forest."

A deep rumble echoed beneath the ground.

Not thunder.

Something moving.

The banyan's roots shifted.

The earth cracked.

All around them, the forest seemed to inhale.

The woman stood abruptly.

"It's awake."

"What is?"

She looked toward the darkness between the trees.

"The heart."

The trees began to bend.

Not in the wind.

Toward one direction.

Every branch.

Every vine.

Every blade of grass.

As though the entire forest was bowing.

Aditi followed their gaze.

Far beyond the trunks...

Something enormous moved.

Not a creature.

Not an animal.

The forest itself.

Roots rose from the earth like veins beneath skin.

The ground pulsed.

Tree trunks twisted slowly, impossibly, as if they were turning to face her.

The forest had no eyes.

Yet Aditi knew—

It was looking directly at her.

The woman grabbed Aditi's wrist.

"Listen to me."

Her voice was urgent now.

"The forest can only take what you surrender."

"What does that mean?"

"Remember."

"My parents?"

"No."

"My name?"

"No."

"What then?"

The woman's grip tightened.

"The one memory that tells you..."

"...who you are."

Aditi stared.

"I don't understand."

"You will."

"When it asks."

A howl tore through the trees.

Not from an animal.

From hundreds of voices crying out together.

Every carved name on the banyan tree began to glow faintly beneath the bark.

One by one.

Thousands of names.

Thousands of forgotten lives.

Then—

A fresh line appeared.

The bark split with a wet crack.

Invisible hands carved new letters into the tree.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

A...

D...

I...

T...

I...

The woman closed her eyes.

"It's begun."

Aditi looked at her own name, still bleeding pale sap from the tree.

The forest wasn't waiting for her anymore.

It had already accepted her.