The test comes at midnight.
Not in thunder and not in spectacle, but in stillness so deep it feels deliberate as I stand alone in the clearing behind the packhouse and watch the pale moon hang silent above the trees while Layla hums steadily within me and the land pulses faintly beneath my boots.
Aelira steps from shadow without distortion this time.
She does not flicker.
She does not waver.
She stands fully formed in front of me, her presence pressing against the edges of the air like gravity that has decided to make itself visible.
“You are stabilizing,” she says quietly.
“I am adapting,” I answer.
“Not enough,” she replies.
The wind stills completely.
“You must return to the ruins,” she says.
My pulse tightens.
“The temple,” I breathe.
“Yes.”
The burned temple that once st
