The wind howled through the ravaged forest, bending scorched trees and stirring the ash beneath Aria's boots. The world felt… thinner now. Like reality itself was wearing down. The air tasted of smoke and spirit dust—remnants of Mara's fading corruption—and something else. Something colder. Watching.
Aria didn't stop. Her steps were firm. Her body, though aching, moved with precision. Purpose. Confidence. The veil between worlds was thinning, and she didn't need a prophecy to tell her something ancient was staring through the cracks.
Behind her, Caleb moved silently. His steps were heavier, still recovering from his last clash with Mara's minions, but he didn't complain. He hadn't left her side since the Hollow. Not once. His loyalty wasn't just a bond now—it was a vow lived in every breath.
