The Heart BeneathSaxaThe mountain moves again. Not like an avalanche, not like stone breaking free and crashing down the slope. This is slower. Worse.The kind of movement that belongs to something enormous waking up beneath skin that was never meant to stretch this far. Every thread in the valley pulls taut at once.The glowing lines beneath the snow sharpen, brightening until the whole clearing looks webbed in veins of buried lightning. The creatures nearest the tear stiffen simultaneously, their heads tilting toward the ridge as if they’re hearing the same voice from very far away.My wolf presses hard against my ribs. Not panic.The ground under my boots trembles again, deeper now, more deliberate—less like shaking and more like a pulse. A heartbeat. One that does not belong to any living thing I understand.“Oh, hell no,” Ingrid whispers.No one corrects her. No one can. Because the mountain is still moving.Anja lifts her face toward it, silver light catching along the edge of
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