Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The Hollow was still.
Too still.
The usual rhythm of wind rustling the parchment-leafed trees, the soft whisper of old stories murmuring through the roots, even the distant hum of the Leyline Falls—all of it was silent, as if the world itself held its breath.
Liora stood at the edge of the glade where she had awakened, the moss cool beneath her bare feet. Kael lingered behind her, silent, arms crossed and brow furrowed. His presence was grounding, but even he couldn’t anchor the unease blooming inside her.
The Sigil on her collarbone still burned faintly, but it was the mark beside it—the eye etched in delicate lines of gold and ash—that pulsed with strange awareness. Every blink of the eye brought with it flashes.
Not memories.
Not dreams.
Writings.
