"I wasn't trespassing intentionally," Rowan said carefully, keeping his hands visible and away from his wand. "I was looking for moonstone. Didn't realize this was centaur territory."
"You didn't realize, or you didn't care?" The centaur's hand moved to his bow. "Wizards always have excuses."
"Bane." Another voice, deeper and calmer.
A second centaur emerged from the trees. Older, with a graying coat and weathered features. He placed a hand on the younger centaur's shoulder.
"This is the one Starweaver spoke of," the older centaur said, studying Rowan. "The stars showed his coming."
"The stars show many things, Magorian," Bane replied. "They also show wizard treachery."
Magorian ignored him, his dark intelligent eyes fixed on Rowan. "You are Rowan Ashcroft. The one who walks two paths."
Rowan felt his blood run cold. How could they possibly know about his reincarnation?
"The stars speak in symbols," Magorian continued, apparently reading his expression. "They showed us a child whose fate line is... unusual. Split. One path ended, another beginning. A builder who shapes futures."
"And destroys them," Bane muttered.
"Why are you in our forest, child?" Magorian asked.
Honesty seemed the safest approach. "I'm searching for moonstone. The books said deposits might exist in forest clearings, but I haven't found any. They also mentioned the mountains, but..."
"But you fear the thornbacks and the trolls," Magorian finished. "Wise. The high peaks are not for wizard children. Or for centaurs, for that matter. We do not venture into the mountains. The thornbacks have long claimed those heights as their own."
"Then I suppose I'll have to purchase what I need," Rowan said, disappointed.
Magorian and Bane exchanged a long look, some silent communication passing between them.
"Come with us," Magorian said finally. "Starweaver will want to meet you. The stars have shown your path crossing ours, and when the stars speak clearly, we listen."
"Why would your leader want to meet me?" Rowan asked, wary.
"Because the stars rarely show such clarity about wizard children. And because we may have something you need, though not what you came seeking."
Rowan hesitated. Following strange centaurs deeper into the Forbidden Forest was objectively a terrible idea. But they knew things they shouldn't. About him, about his reincarnation somehow. And Magorian's tone suggested this wasn't hostile.
"All right," Rowan said.
The centaurs led him deeper into the forest, to a grove where more centaurs had gathered. Rowan counted at least twenty, maybe thirty. They watched him with expressions ranging from curiosity to open hostility.
An ancient centaur waited in the grove's center. His coat was silver-white, his face deeply lined, but his eyes were sharp and clear.
"The child who walks two paths," the ancient centaur said, his voice carrying despite its age. "The stars spoke truly."
"How do you know that?" Rowan asked, unable to help himself.
"The stars reveal many things to those who learn their language. Your destiny is... branching. Multiple futures, multiple possibilities. Not a common pattern." The ancient centaur stepped closer. "I am called Starweaver. You are Rowan Ashcroft, though that is not the name you carried in your first life."
The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt. They knew. Somehow, impossibly, they knew.
"You seek moonstone," Starweaver continued. "We cannot help you venture into the mountains. That is your path to walk or avoid as you choose. But we have something else. Something left by a witch, generations ago."
He gestured, and another centaur brought forward a small wooden box. Dark wood, ancient, covered in intricate carvings. Rowan could feel magic radiating from it even from several feet away.
"A previous Headmistress of your school left this in our keeping," Starweaver explained. "She asked us to hold it, to keep it safe from wizard hands until the proper time. We have honored her trust for three centuries."
"We do not want wizard magic in our forest," Bane interjected. "It has no place here."
"The stars suggest the time has come to return it," Starweaver said. "To a wizard who might understand its purpose. A builder, not a destroyer."
He held out the box to Rowan.
"We offer this freely, Rowan Ashcroft. Consider it payment for a debt not yet incurred, but which the stars suggest you will honor when the time comes."
Rowan took the box carefully. It was heavier than it looked, and the magic thrumming through it made his fingers tingle. The carvings on its surface were runes. Complex ones he didn't fully recognize. And the box was sealed, locked with multiple layers of protective enchantments he could sense but not identify.
"What's inside?" he asked.
"We do not know. It is locked by magic we cannot break, sealed by wizard craft beyond our understanding. Perhaps you will discover its secrets. Perhaps not."
"What debt?" Rowan asked. "What do the stars show?"
Starweaver's expression grew distant. "The stars show many things. Conflict. Choices that reshape destinies. A darkness rising that will test all who live in this age." He focused on Rowan again. "They show you standing at crossroads, making decisions that will echo through generations. What those decisions will be, the stars do not reveal. Only that they matter."
"That's not very helpful," Rowan said before he could stop himself.
To his surprise, Starweaver's mouth twitched. It might have been amusement. "The future is not fixed, child. We see possibilities, not certainties. If the stars showed us exact events, we would be prisoners of fate rather than beings with choice."
Magorian stepped forward. "You should leave our forest now, child. Return to your castle. And if you venture into our lands again, announce yourself. Centaurs do not appreciate wizard stealth."
"I understand. Thank you for this." Rowan held up the box.
"Do not thank us yet," Starweaver said. "The box contains power, yes, but power is neutral. It can build or destroy, help or harm. What you do with what you find inside will define whether our gift was wisdom or folly."