The world didn't just fall silent.
It held its breath.
The golden glow in the clearing pulsed once—twice—soft, rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something ancient and waiting. The child-sized silhouette didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
He simply stood there. Barefoot. Thin. Fragile. A small boy swallowed by the dark forest, glowing faintly like a lantern that had forgotten how to be bright.
Leo stopped moving so fast it felt like the air around them snapped. His arms locked protectively around Amaya, body angled forward like he would launch himself at anything that dared step closer.
The White Tiger bristled, flames crawling up his white fur like living veins of fire. His tail lashed once, claws digging into the earth.
"Do not speak," the Tiger murmured.
Amaya nodded.
But inside, her heart beat so hard she thought her ribs might splinter. Because the boy—her brother—the heir—was not just a specter from her vision.
He was real.
Standing ten steps away.
