Chapter 178: Monuments of EchoThe caravan moved through dawn-lit plains toward Puerto La Cruz. The sky hung low, dense with clouds that threatened rain, or perhaps grief itself. Sophia rode in silence, the weight of the cities behind her pressing like stone against her chest. From every vantage, th
Chapter 177: CaracasCaracas did not sleep.Through the night, chants wound through alleyways and laughter spilled into plazas. The Living Stones glimmered with candles tucked between tiles, with songs painted on walls, with children weaving dances around the anchors of memory. The hollowing had bee
Chapter 178: The Weight of StoneCaracas awoke to clay.By dawn, plazas were dotted with crude tiles drying in the sun—imprints of palms, etched verses, fragments of thread woven into earth. Walls bore hurried carvings, alleyways echoed with chants etched the night before. The Bone Circles had sprea
That night, fear swept through camp. If even their own could be hollowed, who would remain to carry the threads? Elise sat by the fire, stitching frantically. “We need anchors outside ourselves. If one circle forgets, another must hold them. If one hand is hollowed, another must stitch it back.”Sop
Chapter 175: The HollowingThe caravan left Bogotá at dawn, the city still glowing behind them like embers refusing to fade. Lanterns flickered in balconies, chalk sigils remained on plazas, fragments hung from windows like constellations stitched into cloth. Bogotá breathed as one—scarred but alive
One evening, Raven burst into their safehouse, maps trembling in his hands. “They’ve collapsed three nodes in the west. People swear Sophia banished them personally. They’re withdrawing from the circle.”Amina slammed her fist against the wall. “If too many nodes fall, the weave unravels.”Sophia st