CHAPTER 17: SHADOWS ON THE RIFT

The Verdant Hollow’s twilight wraps the training grove in a soft glow, the energy threads pulsing brighter as night creeps in. My muscles ache from days of training, but my crescent mark thrums with a restless energy, like it’s urging me to move, to act. Yesterday’s shift—claws, silver fur, those surreal moonlight wings—still haunts me. Renn’s “dragon” outburst keeps replaying, half-funny, half-unsettling. I’m no myth, but I’m not just a shifter either. Whatever I am, the Hollow’s teaching me to wield it, and I’m starting to feel the weight of what that means.

Sylvara stands by the primal pool, her jade-green skin catching the last rays of daylight. She’s been drilling me on the First Ones’ rituals, ancient weaves to strengthen the Hollow’s wards against Veil-breaches. The runes on the grove’s pillars glow faintly, responding to her touch, and my new sight picks up their intricate patterns—golden-green, laced with silver, like a cosmic tapestry.

Cassia paces nearby, her fiery aura flickering with impatience. “You sure this ritual’s gonna hold, Sylvara? Renn’s last report had Syndicate scouts crawling closer to the eastern rift. If Voren’s goons get a whiff of Lena’s power, we’re gonna have more than wards to worry about.”

I tense at Voren’s name, my mark prickling. The Syndicate’s been a shadow over every lesson, their movements growing bolder since Renn’s warning yesterday. “What’s the plan if they do find us?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended. “I’m not exactly a ward-weaving expert yet.”

Sylvara’s emerald eyes meet mine, calm but unyielding. “The Hollow’s wards are ancient, tied to the First Ones’ magic. With your lunar power, you can amplify them, but it requires focus. Today, you’ll practice weaving your energy into the grove’s defenses while maintaining your shifted form. Balance is key.”

Cassia snorts, tossing a spark. “Yeah, balance. No pressure, kid, but if you screw this up, we’re all glowing beacons for Voren’s creepy ass.”

I glare, but her grin softens the jab. She’s been my anchor through every training session, her fire grounding my volatile lunar surges. Still, the thought of Voren—his predatory smile, his obsession with the Veil—makes my stomach churn. “Let’s just get started,” I say, stepping toward the pool.

Before Sylvara can respond, a sharp hum cuts through the grove, like a string snapping. The pillars’ runes flare red, and the energy threads twist, their golden-green hue darkening. My mark burns, and my new sight catches a ripple in the air—a faint tear, like the Veil itself is fraying.

“Intruders,” Sylvara hisses, her vine-hair writhing. “The outer wards have been breached.”

Cassia’s flames erupt, forming a protective ring around us. “Syndicate?” she asks, her voice low, all humor gone.

Sylvara closes her eyes, her aura pulsing in sync with the Hollow. “Three Veil-touched, likely mercenaries. They’ve used a shadow relic to slip past the first ward. They’re heading for the eastern boundary.”

My heart races. The eastern rift—Voren’s target. “What do we do?” I ask, forcing my voice steady.

Sylvara’s eyes snap open. “We reinforce the inner wards. Lena, your power is our strongest asset. Shift and channel your lunar energy into the pool. Cassia, guard the grove’s perimeter. I’ll summon Renn to seal the outer breach.”

Cassia nods, her flames spiking as she sprints toward the grove’s edge. I hesitate, the memory of my unstable shift yesterday—wings flaring, moss scorched—flashing through me. But there’s no time for doubt. I touch my crescent mark, its warmth grounding me. “Lena Silvermoon,” I whisper, stepping into the pool.

Silver light engulfs me, my bones shifting with less pain than before. Claws sprout, silver-tipped; fur, grey and luminous, coats my arms. My senses sharpen, the Hollow’s pulse pounding in my ears. Moonlight wings ripple behind me, their Veil-touched energy humming. I’m stronger, more controlled, but the power still feels like a storm I’m barely holding.

Sylvara kneels by the pool, guiding my claws to its edge. “Focus on the runes,” she says. “Weave your lunar threads into them, like you did with Cassia’s fire. The Hollow will amplify your intent.”

I nod, my growl low as I concentrate. Silver threads extend from my claws, merging with the pillars’ runes. The red flare fades, golden-green returning, but it’s slow, like pushing against a tide. My emotions—fear of the intruders, anger at Voren—threaten to unravel my focus, but I picture the moon, steady and cool, and the threads stabilize.

A shout from the grove’s edge breaks my concentration. “Got one!” Cassia calls, her flames roaring. A figure—cloaked, aura black as oil—stumbles into view, Cassia’s fire pinning them against a tree. Their shadow-wreathed form marks them as Veil-touched, maybe a Shadowwalker like Maddox.

“Hold them!” Sylvara orders, her voice cutting through the chaos. She turns to me. “Keep weaving, Lena. The wards are stabilizing.”

I grit my teeth, pouring more energy into the runes. The pool glows brighter, its light syncing with my wings. My new sight catches two more figures slipping through the trees, their auras jagged, like fractured glass. They’re fast, aiming for the pool—aiming for me.

“Cassia!” I snarl, my voice resonant. “Incoming!”

Cassia spins, flames arcing toward the intruders. One dodges, their body blurring into shadow, but the other takes a hit, collapsing with a scream. The grove trembles, the Hollow’s threads tightening as if angry. My wings flare instinctively, sending a pulse of light that knocks the shadow-figure back.

Renn bursts into the grove, his blue aura rippling like water. “Outer ward’s sealed!” he pants, hands raised, streams of liquid energy weaving into the air, reinforcing the boundary. His eyes widen at me, my shifted form glowing. “Shit, you’re scarier every time.”

“Focus, Renn!” Sylvara snaps, her hands glowing as she strengthens the pool’s runes.

The shadow-figure recovers, lunging for me. I react without thinking, claws slashing, wings sweeping forward. The light from my wings burns their aura, and they collapse, clutching their chest. My heart pounds—this power, this form, it’s mine, but it’s terrifying.

The grove quiets, the pillars’ runes settling into a steady golden-green. Cassia drags the cloaked intruder forward, their face hidden but their aura fading. “Mercenaries,” she spits. “Voren’s testing us. These relics—” she kicks a dark, rune-etched stone at their feet—“are old. First Ones’ tech, corrupted.”

Sylvara’s expression darkens. “Voren’s reach grows. These relics were buried, hidden from even the Syndicate’s grasp. Someone betrayed their location.”

My fur recedes, wings folding away as I shift back, breathless. “Betrayed? By who?” Winters’ ambiguity, Nadia’s secrets, even Maddox’s guarded honesty flash through my mind.

“We’ll find out,” Sylvara says, her voice cold. “For now, the wards hold, thanks to you, Lena. Your power stabilized them.”

Cassia grins, though her eyes are sharp. “Not bad, kid. You and those freaky wings just saved our asses.”

Renn, catching his breath, nods. “Yeah, that was… epic. Dragon vibes, for sure.”

I roll my eyes, but relief loosens my chest. “Not a dragon, Renn. Can we drop that?”

He grins, unrepentant. “No promises.”

Sylvara kneels by the unconscious mercenary, examining the relic. “This incursion was a probe, not an assault. Voren’s testing the Hollow’s defenses—and your strength, Lena. We must accelerate your training. The First Ones’ rituals can seal the eastern rift, but you’ll need to master both your form and the wards’ weave.”

I nod, the weight of her words settling in. The Hollow’s safe for now, but Voren’s closing in, and someone’s feeding him secrets. I think of Sera, Marcus, Nadia at the Refuge, fighting their own battles. I can’t let them down—not when I’m finally starting to understand my place in this war.

As we secure the grove, Cassia slings an arm around me, her warmth grounding. “You’re getting the hang of this, Convergence. Voren’s gonna wish he never messed with you.”

I force a smile, but my mark pulses, a reminder of the storm still coming. The Hollow’s teaching me who I am, but the world outside won’t wait for me to be ready.