The chamber fell into a brittle silence.Selene stood motionless, her pulse thunderous in her ears. The words still echoed: âThe mark has awakened. And with it, the curse.âRuvanâs hand hovered near her shoulder, but he didnât touch herâperhaps afraid she would shatter. A soft red light flickered from the mark now glowing on her collarbone, pulsing with a strange rhythm, like a second heartbeat.âI donât understand,â she whispered, eyes flickering between the covenâs elders who had gathered in haste. âYou said the mark was dormant. That the moonstoneâs binding kept it sealed.âEira stepped forward, her ceremonial robe brushing the floor like a ghostâs whisper. Her voice trembled, not from fearâbut from the weight of truth. âThe moonstoneâs power has limits. It was never a permanent seal, only a delay. The moment your soul bonded with the Alpha⌠it broke.âSelene's eyes snapped to Ruvan.His jaw clenched, but his expression held no regret.âYou knew this might happen,â she breathed, ta
The Hollowâs pulse was different now.It didnât trembleâit listened. As if the land itself was leaning in, waiting to see what Elira would do next.She stood in the old war room beneath the templeâs roots, the map spread out before her like a prophecy waiting to be spoken aloud. The star she had drawn the night before still burned faintly in silver ink, though no one else could see its glow.Theron stood beside her, arms folded, brow furrowed in thought. Naeria moved quietly across the chamber, gathering scrolls older than the Hollow itself. Rowan and Selene sat in the shadows, polishing weapons that might never touch their intended foe. Kael was pacing. As always.âThis place,â Elira said, pointing to the distant star, âis older than any city. Older than any empire. It predates the Hollow. Even Aeltharuun.âNaeriaâs voice was quiet. âItâs not just a place. Itâs a memory. The gods buried it after the War of Names.âKael paused mid-stride. âAnd you think thatâs where Vyrethâs undoing l
The Hollow was quiet.Too quiet.For days after sealing the Rift, the forest had fallen into an unnatural stillness. The trees barely swayed. No wolves howled beneath the moon. The wind passed through the valley like a ghost, carrying the scent of old stone and distant fires.Elira knew better than to trust silence.It had always been the prelude to something elseâchange, arrival, or loss.She stood at the edge of the reflecting pool in the heart of the Hollow, her fingertips brushing the waterâs surface. The moonâs reflection wavered, though the wind did not blow.Theron approached, wrapped in his dark cloak, face half-lit by torchlight.âItâs too still,â he said.âI know.âNaeriaâs voice rang out behind them. âThe stars have stopped moving again. They held steady for three nights.ââThat hasnât happened sinceâŚâ Elira turned.âSince the beginning,â Naeria finished grimly. âSince your return from Aeltharuun.âA beat of silence.Then Naeria continued, voice lower, more reverent.âThis
The fire wouldnât go out.Elira had tried to smother it with magic, with silence, even with sleepâbut still it burned in her chest. Not pain. Not sickness. Just a persistent heat, slow and steady, like her very blood was responding to something far away.She paced the perimeter of the Ember Court at dawn, wind thick with ash and tension. Every step she took echoed too loudly in the stone corridors. Every breath carried the scent of the old blade fragment that pulsed inside her satchel like a second heartbeat.The Rift was stirring.And it was calling her name.---Theron found her in the outer garden, eyes locked on the shifting horizon.âYou didnât sleep.ââI canât,â she replied without turning. âEvery time I close my eyes, I see it.ââThe Rift?âShe nodded.He took a step closer. âThen we face it. Together.âElira exhaled. âTheron⌠What if going to it breaks me?ââWhat if not going to it breaks the world?âShe met his gaze.There were no answersâonly choices.And Elira had made hers
The sky was no longer familiar.Since her return, Elira had watched the stars every night, and they were shifting. Slowly, deliberately. One by one, constellations twisted into new alignments. Ancient maps turned into riddles. The Hollow pulsed differently now. Not wrong, just changedâlike it was stretching in anticipation of something long denied.The world was waiting for a name.And it was hers.---In the weeks following her return from Aeltharuun, Elira had become something more than a guardian.Not royalty, though the Seabound called her their queen reborn.Not a goddess, though magic bent toward her like gravity.She was simply Eliraâflame-keeper, tidewalker, and balance-bound soul. The Hollow accepted her more fully now, allowing her to access its deeper layersârunes that hadnât glowed for centuries now lit beneath her fingers. Her voice, when raised in command, echoed through stone and shadow.But with power came disruption.Spirits stirred uneasily.The elder wolves, once di
The waves rolled in a rhythm older than time, carrying with them the murmur of forgotten gods. Aeltharuun pulsed with quiet life beneath the starlit waters above, each ripple of the ocean sky overhead reminding Elira that she was no longer in any realm she had known.She stood on the islandâs high ridge, barefoot, wind cutting through her cloak as sea-mist clung to her skin. The Seabound had led her to a place they called The Heart of the Drowned. It was not a place of worshipâit was a place of reckoning.Below her, nestled in the center of the isleâs lagoon, floated a massive circular platform of blackstone and pearl. Sigils carved into its edges glowed faintly in time with her pulse. It was calling to her. Not in words, but in sensationâa magnetic pull in her bones.âYou must go alone,â said the Seabound leader, who had since revealed her name: Ysvienne.âI expected that,â Elira replied.Ysvienne studied her. âOnce you enter, the memory will unfold. You must walk its path. But know