The light gathered slowly, pooling like mist around the base of the standing stone, and Cassian stood frozen at its edge, watching his son's small hand remain outstretched toward the ancient carvings as though pulled by some invisible thread neither of them could see."Elias," he whispered again, fear finally breaking through the wonder. "Should we retreat? If this is dangerous""Wait." Elias's voice was hushed, his own eyes fixed on the gathering light with something between caution and reverence. "I don't think it means to harm him. Watch."The mist thickened at the stone's base, and slowly, impossibly, it began to take shape, not solid, not quite visible in any way Cassian could later describe with confidence, but present, unmistakably present, in the way the air itself seemed to bend and gather around a shape too large to be human and yet carrying, somehow, the unmistakable impression of grief given form.A voice moved through the clearing, not spoken aloud so much as felt, resona
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