Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The journey north was not marked by storm or resistance, but by silence.
Not the fearful kind, but a silence ancient and listening—deep enough to swallow voices, wide enough to stretch between stars. Snow began to fall long before the trees thinned, each flake whispering secrets to the earth as they melted against flame-warmed skin. The Loom’s guidance had grown strange, flickering at times like a candle under breath. Even the Threads beneath Liora’s fingertips hummed less, as though they too feared what lay ahead.
Carys floated beside her, light-drenched wings dimmer than usual. “Something here doesn’t want to be seen.”
“It’s not hiding,” Tamien murmured behind them. “It’s remembering. Slowly.”
Elian, usually glib, had grown quiet, his fingers twitching
