Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The Hollow had never been so alive.
Liora stood beneath the Sigil Tree, its bark glowing with soft veins of light that pulsed in rhythm with the hundreds—no, thousands—of heartbeats now echoing through the land. The Forgotten had returned, not as shadows or wisps, but as flesh, soul, and will. They breathed. They walked. They remembered.
And they remembered her.
Some whispered her name like a prayer. Others approached with wary eyes and hopeful hearts. They had been lost, silenced, erased. And now they were home.
Thistle stood to her left, her hands trembling, not with fear but with awe. She watched as a child with storm-cloud eyes reached for a blooming tree and the bark bowed toward him in greeting. As a warrior queen ran her fingers through the mist an
