The dreams began again.But this time, they were not filled with fire or shadow.This time, they were wet.Salt kissed her skin in sleep. Winds howled over endless waves. And somewhere beyond a shifting sea, a voice called her name—not in warning, not in longing, but in invitation.“Elira…”When she woke, the scent of brine lingered in the air, and the horizon was no longer still.Something had changed.---Three days had passed since the final Blood Moon faded.Three days of calm.Too calm.The pack had settled back into cautious rhythm—guard rotations, spell maintenance, training drills. But beneath the surface, everyone felt it: the shifting weight, the way magic tugged slightly to the east now, toward the unseen ocean beyond the Shadow Range.Theron stood at the edge of the southern bluff with Kael and Rowan at his side. Below them, the last of the Hollow-Scar trees were being cleared. The land was healing. But the sky no longer sang with the same voice.“She hasn’t slept,” Kael s
The forest had gone quiet.Not silent—but reverent. The kind of hush that clung to sacred places, like breath held before the divine. As the final night of the Blood Moon reached its zenith, even the wind seemed to bend around the sacred grove. The flames around the circle shimmered, caught between gold and crimson, flickering like they recognized the soul standing within them.Elira stood tall, her skin luminous under the moon’s fierce gaze. The markings along her arms had deepened, no longer the thin runes of the Hollow, but wider, rooted symbols pulsing with energy older than her lineage. Her eyes had changed too—once soft starlight, now moonsilver rimmed in ember.And yet—she was still Elira.Still the woman who had burned for justice.Still the girl who had once wanted to run.But now she carried the weight of something far greater.Something elemental.Theron stood just behind her, hands curled into fists, jaw set as he watched the Revenants surrounding the grove. They moved slo
Rain fell in silence.Not heavy, not light—just a quiet drizzle that coated the forest in silver sheen. But it wasn’t natural rain. Elira could feel the way each drop landed against her skin, tinged with something older. Something watching.The second night of the Blood Moon had begun.And already, the veil between realms was growing thinner.Theron stood beside her at the cliff’s edge, cloak dark with water, his hands clenched at his sides. They hadn’t spoken much since the Revenant’s attack. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the weight of everything had grown too heavy for words.Elira’s body still hummed with strange magic.Moonfire.That was what Naeria had called it. Power not of the Hollow nor the stars, but the moon’s sorrow given form. It hadn’t just chosen her—it had changed her. Her reflection had shifted. Her mark had deepened. And in the shadows, the wolves were starting to whisper.“Are you afraid of me now?” she asked suddenly, her voice nearly drowned ou
The days that followed Laziel’s fall were strangely quiet.Too quiet.The Hollow Heart had been sealed. The fractures in the leyline had begun to heal, slowly knitting themselves back into balance. The forest spirits, once driven wild by the presence of an ancient threat, began returning in cautious curiosity. The river resumed its natural flow. The stars blinked more gently overhead.But peace always carried a price.And peace never came without consequence.Elira stood on the balcony of the Watcher's Hall, a structure newly built from blackstone and moonwood at the center of the reclaimed valley. Below her, warriors moved with quiet discipline. New recruits, fresh scars, tired eyes. They all looked to her now—not just as the girl who had survived the Hollow, but as something more.A symbol.A queen of shadow and flame.She didn’t feel like one.Theron approached behind her, the creak of the floor announcing his presence before the warmth of his hand found the small of her back. He d
The wind was no longer whispering.It howled.Twisting through the valley like an ancient song remembered by the trees and the bones of the earth. The sky was a deep bruised gray, not stormy—but waiting. A stillness crept over the land, like breath held before a scream.Elira stood in the heart of the camp, her arms bare, the rune-ring tight on her finger. Around her, the wards pulsed faintly, responding to the strange weight in the air. The wolves moved quietly today, their laughter muted, their shoulders tense. Even the youngest ones sensed something stirring beyond the veil.Theron appeared beside her, clad in dark armor softened with a cloak of silver-threaded linen. His eyes weren’t restless—they were steady, too steady, like someone forcing calm to protect those around him.“He’s building power,” he said softly. “I can feel it from the earth. The roots are trembling.”“I know,” Elira replied. “I dream of him now. Not nightmares. Visions.”He turned toward her. “What do they show
The first tremor came at dawn.Soft at first—just a shifting beneath the soil, subtle enough that most thought it nothing more than the land settling after the ritual. But Elira knew better.She stood at the edge of the high ridge, watching the mist crawl through the trees, her hand unconsciously resting on the rune-ring Theron had given her. Beneath her feet, the pulse came again. Fainter this time, but persistent.It wasn’t over.Not really.They had closed the Gate. They had burned the tower. But some echoes refuse to fade.Behind her, the camp slowly stirred. Morning cookfires sparked to life. The younger wolves began their patrols, their footsteps soft and careful along the warded paths. Selene was already at the eastern edge of the perimeter, her shadow a quiet sentinel among the branches.And Theron… she could feel him approaching before she heard his steps.“You felt it too,” he said as he came up beside her.She nodded. “Something’s still moving. Beneath us.”He glanced at th