Rejected Luna: Rise of the Moon Sovereign
There, by the flames, her place stands ready.
Every morning, she shows up before the sun clears the trees
Fog stretched thin as we moved without words.
Now, the Hollow carried a pulse where once there was stillness. It breathed slowly beneath cracked stones, quiet but certain. A shift had settled without warning, like frost at noon. This place once empty now hummed under the skin of dust and shadow.
Not loud, just present felt more than heard.
Beside the path, trees tilted our way.
Faint shapes moved as if tuned in. The air held its breath just then.