The meadow stretched in every direction, dotted with flowers that shifted color as Lily walked past them, responding to her presence like shy animals deciding whether to trust a stranger. The grass tickled her ankles and bent toward her feet as if trying to guide her along a path she could not yet see. In the distance, a forest rose against the double-sunned sky, its trees bearing leaves in colors she had no names for. They were not simply red or purple or gold. They were colors that existed between the ones she knew, shades that her eyes could see but her vocabulary could not capture. A city was visible beyond the forest, its towers catching the light of both suns and scattering it into rainbow patterns across the landscape. The architecture was organic and flowing, more grown than built, with walls that curved like seashells and bridges that arced between towers like strands of silk. Lily followed the path of bent grass toward the forest and found a stone well at the tree line. The water inside was perfectly clear and showed not her reflection but an image of the blue door in her grandmother's attic, confirming that the way home still existed. She cupped her hands and drank. The water tasted like cold mountain air feels against your skin on the first day of autumn. Refreshed, she entered the forest. The trees were warm to the touch and hummed with a low vibration she could feel in her chest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in beams that moved independently, following her like friendly spotlights. She was not afraid. She probably should have been, but the world around her radiated a welcoming warmth that felt like a house where someone had been expecting company and had prepared everything with careful attention. The forest wanted her here. She was sure of it. What she did not know yet was why.