Mila pressed deeper into the forest, pine needles brushing her arms, the glittery trail gleaming through the gloom. Elsa walked at her side, jaw tight but eyes wide with wonder—or was it fear? Sunlight barely filtered through the ancient branches, catching motes of gold that hovered in the air like fireflies.

"Do you hear that?" Elsa whispered, halting. Mila stilled, straining to listen. The wind rustled, but beneath it, voices drifted—soft, urgent, neither quite friendly nor menacing.

Mila’s heart thudded. "It’s just the trees," she managed, though her voice trembled. The sisters exchanged a glance: trees didn't usually speak.

A ribbon of golden footprints lured them to a clearing, where stones floated in the air, bobbing gently as if caught in invisible currents. The path continued atop them, glitter dust trailing from stone to stone.

Elsa reached out, her fingers brushing a pebble. It shimmered and spun, then steadied, inviting a step. "I’ll go first," she said, her voice a notch braver than she felt. She clambered up, wobbling as the stone shifted under her weight.

Mila hesitated, glancing at the silent pines. She heard the whispers again—a low chorus, threading through her thoughts. Doubt prickled her skin. What if she fell? What if the dragon was watching?
Elsa turned, offering her hand. "Come on, Mila. We have to trust each other."
Mila took a breath and grabbed Elsa’s hand. The stone steadied, and together, they hopped from one floating rock to the next. Sometimes they swayed, but each time, Mila felt Elsa squeeze her fingers, grounding her. Above, the sky was a distant patchwork, glimpsed through the needled canopy.
Halfway across, the stones began to drift apart. Mila’s foot slipped, panic surging. Elsa pulled hard, steadying her. "We can use the phoenix feather!" Elsa cried, remembering the fiery prize tucked in Mila’s pouch.
Mila fished it out, its warmth pulsing in her palm. She waved it gently, and a trail of embers bridged the gap. They hurried over, hearts pounding, landing safely on a mossy rise.
Ahead, a tree trunk twisted, its bark forming a face. The tree’s eyes opened, leaves rustling with speech. "To pass, answer this: What shines brightest—not in the sky, but in your heart?"
Mila and Elsa exchanged a look. "Is it treasure?" Elsa guessed tentatively.
The tree’s leafy brows furrowed. Mila shook her head, thinking of Elsa’s steady hand, the warmth of shared trust, the courage that blossomed in her chest. "It’s hope," Mila said softly.
The tree’s mouth curved into a smile, branches parting to reveal a path. On the other side, a flash of emerald and gold caught their eyes—a dragon, coiled atop their missing treasure, scales glimmering with mischief.
He looked at them, eyes twinkling. "I only wanted to see if your treasure sparkled as brightly as the stars."
Elsa stepped forward, voice trembling but strong. "Does it?"
The dragon’s grin widened, but before he could answer, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and a rumble echoed from deep within the mountain.
Mila clutched Elsa’s hand. Something else was waking. What other secrets did the mountain hold?