Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The Hollow breathed.
Not with lungs or wind, but with memory.
Liora felt it in the dirt beneath her bare feet as she knelt beside the Sigil Tree at dawn. The pulse of roots. The quiet hum of magic. It wasn’t just a home now—it was a living tome. Pages still being written. And somewhere in those pages, a new story stirred.
Or perhaps… an old one waking again.
Ember hadn’t spoken since the glyph vanished. She sat beneath the twisted boughs of the Sigil Tree, her eyes distant, hands stained faintly with residual soot. Not fire-born soot—something deeper. Like the remnants of ink too stubborn to wash away.
Kael stood a few paces behind, arms folded, his shadow long in the gold of the morning light. Thistle moved in slow loops around the perimeter, murmuring
