The glow from the shattered sigil still lingered in the air like dying starlight. The corrupted heart of the Shadowroot had been severed, the trees sighing in what felt like a long-held breath of release. Where once the air had felt heavy and foul, now a strange quiet settled over the glade—a silence not born of fear, but of mourning.
Aria knelt beside Elena, brushing her sister's dark hair away from her brow. Her breathing was steady now. Light, but alive.
Caleb crouched beside them, battered and pale. "The corruption... it's lifting," he said softly, his hand brushing Aria's. "We did it."
No one answered at first.
Because Solene was still on her knees, staring at the remains of the tree.
Or rather, what had been beneath it.
Roots like veins, deep and twisted, pulsed with the last of Mara's poison—still alive, still spreading through the ancient forest.
