Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The Hollow didn’t breathe anymore.
It shuddered.
From the deepest roots to the silver-lit canopy, a tremor ran through the land as if the very bones of the forest had flinched. Birds had fallen silent. The moss beneath their boots hissed faintly, retreating from contact like it had been burned.
Liora stared at the glowing page in her hands, the ink still shifting as if alive.
To find the author, become the pen.
She read it again, her lips barely moving. Every time, the words sank deeper—not just into her mind, but into her magic, her marrow. Like the sentence had a weight that bent more than air and comprehension. It rewrote her understanding just by existing.
“She’s not gone,” Liora whispered. “She’s…”
“Changed,” Thistle finished, voice hoarse. “Or wo
