Bound by Moonlight and Magic
The sky was quiet.
Not in the way that precedes a storm, nor the hollow stillness after destruction—but a quiet like exhalation. Like something vast had been holding its breath for centuries and finally, mercifully, let go.
Liora lay in Kael’s arms as the last glimmers of the broken Loom faded into the morning clouds. Threads drifted in the air like snow—gentle, silver, faintly warm. They touched skin and vanished, leaving behind not magic, but memory.
Around them, the grove stood in suspended stillness. Burned trees leaned like solemn witnesses. The survivors who’d come in answer to the Weave’s call stood where they had gathered—silent, wide-eyed, waiting.
Kael brushed his fingers through Liora’s hair. “You’re shaking.”
“I just rewrote the foundation of
