The days after the final battle passed in a strange, uneasy stillness. There was peace, technically. The last of the Elders—aside from Cassiel—had been defeated. The war that once seemed unwinnable was now over. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no immediate threat. They stayed in Silvercrest. No one had said it, but no one had left either. The warriors of Onyx and Silvercrest still trained together. Scouts still patrolled the borders. Watchers were still posted high in the trees. Just in case. Selene sat beneath the edge of the main hall roof, letting her fingers trail along the worn wood railing. The afternoon sun had cast a golden hue across the clearing. In the distance, children laughed, training dummies thudded under practice strikes, and the low rumble of conversation hummed through the village. It was peaceful. But not settled. She felt it in her bones. Something wasn’t finished. “Does it feel like the whole world’s holding its breath?” Luka asked,
Later that evening, the fire crackled softly in the hearth. Theoden sat in the corner chair, legs stretched out in front of him, eyes half-lidded as he absently twirled a dagger between his fingers. The motion wasn’t threatening—just familiar, something to do with his hands while his mind worked through things. Selene sat cross-legged on the rug, several scrolls and papers spread out in front of her. Darius was lying on his stomach nearby, flipping through a stack of old maps, though from the bored expression on his face, he might as well have been reading a soup recipe. Luka sat in the armchair opposite Theoden, one leg crossed over the other, nursing a cup of herbal tea. He was reading slowly through a worn, leather-bound journal that looked like it might disintegrate with one wrong breath. “Alright,” Darius said suddenly, holding up one of the maps. “Tell me this isn’t just a drawing of someone’s really confused attempt at a potato.” Selene glanced over. “It’s a depiction of t
The morning passed in its usual rhythm—quiet, steady, unhurried. Selene stirred a pot of soup in the main room while Theoden leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, watching the fog roll in across the fields. The low mist clung to the trees like it didn’t want to let go, and though the sun was rising, the light felt muted. Dim. “I think the moon’s messing with the sky,” Selene muttered, mostly to herself. Theoden glanced at her. “Nova say something?” “She doesn’t have to,” Selene replied, pouring soup into a chipped ceramic mug. “The air’s been off since yesterday. She’s pacing again.” “Atlas hasn’t stopped growling under his breath. It’s charming.” Selene smiled faintly and held out the mug. “Here. Try not to break it.” “I’ve only broken two mugs this month.” “Three,” Luka corrected, walking in with a small stack of books tucked under one arm. “One shattered. Two cracked. And one suspiciously vanished after your last temper tantrum.” Theoden raised a brow. “That was not
Theoden leaned against the post of the training field, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Selene as she demonstrated a clean, fluid shift of energy through her fingertips. She was showing one of the newer warriors—Tamsen, a quiet but fierce addition from Silvercrest—how to stabilize their focus while channeling magic in combat. Selene’s golden power moved like smoke around her hand, soft and pulsing. “Is it weird,” Darius muttered beside him, “that I find that both beautiful and terrifying?” “It’s only weird if you say it out loud,” Luka said, walking past with a practice sword balanced over his shoulder. “Which you just did.” “Yeah, but you’re impressed too,” Darius argued. Luka didn’t respond. Which was basically a confession. Tamsen watched Selene with wide eyes. “How do you know it won’t… explode?” Selene gave a small, reassuring smile. “Because I tell it not to.” Tamsen blinked. “That’s it?” “Well,” Selene added gently, “it also helps not to be afraid of it.” Theoden watche
The wind shifted that night. It wasn’t enough to raise alarms or send patrols running. It was subtle—barely more than a sigh through the trees. But Selene felt it all the same. She stood on the balcony outside their cabin, arms crossed tightly against her chest, eyes on the tree line. Theoden joined her a moment later, barefoot and silent. “Couldn’t sleep?” She shook her head. “Nova’s been… still.” Theoden frowned. “Still how?” “Just… not speaking. Watching. Listening.” Atlas stirred in his mind at that, restless. “She’s not the only one. I don’t like the quiet.” Selene tilted her head slightly, listening for something. “The shield isn’t up anymore.” Theoden didn’t answer right away. “Do you think we should raise it again?” “No,” she said after a moment. “But we need to be ready.” He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him. “I’m starting to wonder if Cassiel is waiting for something,” she whispered. Theoden rested his chin on her s
Rain whispered against the windows. Not a storm—just a steady drizzle that coated the trees and rooftops in a silver sheen. The kind of weather that made everything quiet, even the thoughts inside one’s head. Selene stood in the archive room, holding the parchment she’d found the day before. Her thumb traced the edge where the ink bled slightly, the paper worn with age and care. She’d read it a hundred times now, but it still chilled her. “The fire-haired one is more than she seems. If she remembers, she will be unstoppable.” “You keep staring at that like it’s going to change,” Luka said from behind her. She didn’t turn. “I thought it already had.” He crossed the room and leaned on the edge of the table, arms crossed. “You think it’s from the Book of Endings?” Selene hesitated. “I don’t know. But it feels like it.” Luka tilted his head. “What do you mean, it feels like it?” She glanced over at him. “You ever read something and it doesn’t just sound old—it feels like it came
The morning began with quiet. Not the eerie kind, but the kind that followed days of relentless tension. The kind of silence that let the sound of wind through pine needles take center stage. Birds chirped lazily. Somewhere in the distance, water moved over stone. Selene sat on the steps outside the cabin, her knees drawn to her chest, a mug cradled between her palms. It was still too hot to drink, but she liked the weight of it. The warmth. Theoden’s footsteps approached from behind—steady, deliberate, familiar. He sat beside her without saying anything, his shoulder brushing hers. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, like the morning. “Nova still quiet?” Selene nodded. “Not worried. Just… watching.” “Atlas is the same.” She glanced sideways. “What do you think they’re waiting for?” He didn’t answer right away. “Something’s shifting. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.” Selene exhaled through her nose. “Do yo
The rain had stopped sometime in the early morning. Now the sun filtered through shifting clouds, soft and golden. Steam rose from the forest floor, turning the path to Cassiel’s vault into a hazy corridor of warmth and light. Selene brushed a strand of hair from her face as she walked beside Theoden. The woods were quiet. Watchful. Even the birdsong felt sparse—like nature was giving space to whatever was coming next. “I keep waiting for something to happen,” she said softly. Theoden nodded. “It already is. We just haven’t seen it yet.” Behind them, Luka and Darius followed at an easy pace. Luka was reading a folded note Cassiel had left earlier, something about an old storeroom deep beneath the archive. Darius was eating a dried pear and mumbling about how everything lately felt like “a riddle wrapped in fog with a dash of existential dread.” When they reached the entrance to the lower levels, Cassiel was already there, waiting at the threshold of a stone stairwell carved direc
They’d been in the mountain stronghold for weeks now, and nothing was clear. The books spoke in fragments. Phrases carved in ancient tongues. Symbols that looped back on themselves. Every time they thought they understood something, it unraveled into mystery again. “I swear,” Darius muttered, turning a scroll upside down for the third time, “if this next one says anything about fire or moonlight or blood, I’m eating it.” Selene cracked a tired smile. Luka didn’t look up from the page he was reading. “You’re already chewing on the end of your pen.” Darius glanced down. “That’s different. That’s frustration.” Theoden leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, blue eyes locked on the silent ritual shard still lying cold on the table. It hadn’t pulsed in days. Selene sighed and rubbed at her temples. “We’re chasing riddles in circles.” “They all hint at the door,” Luka offered. “And the balance. That you were made to guard it.” “But nothing tells us how,” Theoden said, voice low.
The seal shard pulsed all night. Theoden couldn’t sleep with it so close to him—its presence like a heartbeat beneath the floorboards, a hum beneath his skin. When he finally gave up trying, he slipped out of bed quietly and stood in the doorway, staring at the stormless sky. The moon had cleared the clouds again. The red tint had spread. He didn’t know what it meant. Only that it was coming. Whatever it was. — By sunrise, the entire house was awake. Selene stirred first, eyes fluttering open as her hand reached instinctively across the mattress. Empty. She sat up. “Theoden?” “In here,” came his voice from the other room. She followed it to find him sitting at the long oak table, Cassiel’s ancient scrolls spread out in front of him. The shard sat on the table’s center, glowing faintly. Luka and Darius were on the couch, half-asleep and half-listening. Luka was reading. Darius was watching the shard like it might bite him. Selene rubbed her eyes. “Did we move the research
It started with the dreams. Not the vivid, terrifying kind that left you screaming in the dark—but the quiet ones. The kind that whispered at the edge of sleep, the kind you didn’t remember when you woke up, only that you felt… different. Heavier. Theoden hadn’t slept in two days. Selene noticed, of course. She always noticed. But she didn’t push. Not yet. Instead, she cooked breakfast, handed him a mug of tea, and said, “You’re walking like the mountain’s sitting on your shoulders.” To which he replied, “I think it is.” And she didn’t ask what that meant. Not yet. — Cassiel hadn’t left the underground chamber since revealing the seal fragment. Luka tried to talk to him the day before and came back up the stairs muttering, “He’s gone full cryptic monk. Mumbled something about timelines and purity and waved me away like I was a pesky squirrel.” Darius had tried after that, and only lasted two minutes before returning with a grim look on his face and a very burnt scroll in
It rained through the night, soft and slow. The kind of rain that soaked into the soil and lingered, filling the air with the smell of moss and wet bark. Selene woke first. She hadn’t meant to. Theoden’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his breath slow and warm against her neck. She lay there for a while, memorizing the rhythm of it, until her thoughts pulled her too far into the waking world to stay still. She shifted gently, brushing her fingers down the curve of his jaw. His eyes blinked open—those deep, piercing blue eyes—and he stared at her like he hadn’t seen her in days. “You okay?” he murmured. Selene nodded. “I just… keep thinking.” Theoden propped himself up on one elbow. “About the seal?” “And the moon. And the book. And the fact that Cassiel keeps dodging our questions about the others.” Theoden reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s find out what he’s not saying.” — Cassiel wasn’t in his study when they arrived. Or the
By the following morning, the red on the moon was no longer a trick of the light. It was real. And growing. The entire village felt it—though few could name it. The warriors of Silvercrest and the nomads of Onyx moved like they were watching the sky out of the corners of their eyes. The elders were gone. The war should’ve ended. And yet, nothing felt resolved. Selene stood outside the cabin with her fingers resting lightly against a tree trunk, her thoughts tangled with Nova’s. “It’s humming again,” Nova murmured. “That strange rhythm. The one we heard before the eclipse in the last life.” “You remember that?” Selene asked softly. “Bits and pieces. But enough to be uneasy.” Behind her, the door opened, and Theoden stepped out. He looked at the tree, then at her. “You’re listening to it again.” She glanced back. “Can you hear it?” He shook his head. “But I can feel it. Like a beat under the skin.” They stood for a long moment in the still morning, the air cool but not s
The air was heavier than usual. Not thick. Not choking. Just… weighted. Like something unseen had settled across the land, across the sky, and was waiting for someone to notice. Selene noticed. She always did. She sat near the river that wound quietly through the woods beyond Silvercrest, her boots tucked beneath her and her notebook balanced in her lap. She hadn’t written anything in days. She kept trying to capture her thoughts in ink, but every time the pen touched paper, her mind scattered. Nova hadn’t spoken all morning, which was rare. Not quiet in the usual sense, but withdrawn. Listening for something. It unsettled Selene more than she wanted to admit. Behind her, Theoden approached, his steps soft against the grass. He didn’t speak right away. Just sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. She handed him the other half of the bread she’d brought and leaned her head against his arm. “Nova’s quiet,” she murmured. “I know. Atlas is too.” He took a bite, chewed slow
They didn’t speak on the way back. Not because there was nothing to say—but because the words hadn’t caught up to the moment yet. Selene stayed close to Theoden, his hand occasionally brushing hers as they made their way down the ridge path in the moonlight. Luka walked ahead, watchful and quiet. Darius trailed behind, muttering occasionally under his breath, as if trying to talk himself into feeling normal again. When they returned to the village, the torches were low. Most of the pack had settled in for the night. The silence was a welcome one, like even the trees had agreed not to interrupt. Selene paused at the edge of the camp and looked over her shoulder. The trees behind them seemed darker than usual. Not dangerous. Just aware. Someone was still watching. — The next morning came slow and gray. Rain tapped against the windowpanes of the cabin, soft and steady. Selene sat by the fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a half-read page of notes from Cassiel in her l
The morning air felt colder than usual. Selene stood on the ridge just outside the village, arms folded across her chest, her hair loose and tousled from sleep. The wind moved around her like it carried secrets—whispers from the trees, murmurs from the earth. Behind her, she sensed him before she heard him. Theoden’s arms slid gently around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “You didn’t sleep,” he murmured into her hair. “No,” she admitted, resting her head back against his shoulder. “I couldn’t.” “Because of the symbol?” “Because of the choice.” They stood in silence, watching the horizon begin to glow with early gold. Theoden kissed the top of her head. “Whatever he’s pushing toward… we don’t have to play his game.” Selene shook her head. “We’re already on the board.” — Later that morning, the cabin buzzed with quiet urgency. Luka spread a map across the table, his finger tracing a mountain pass that led toward a string of hidden valleys in the north. “This is w
It was nearing dusk when the knock came. Sharp. Measured. Not urgent, but not casual either. Theoden opened the door to find a Silvercrest scout standing on the porch, his hair damp with sweat and a fresh tear down the side of his cloak. “We found something,” the scout said. “Or… something found us.” Selene appeared at Theoden’s side almost immediately. “What happened?” The scout swallowed. “We were patrolling the eastern ridge—along the old riverbed. There was no scent. Nothing to track. Just… this.” He reached into his satchel and carefully pulled out a cloth-wrapped object. Theoden stepped forward, unwrapping it slowly. Inside was a piece of blackened wood. Charred on one side, still warm. But it wasn’t from a tree. It was carved. A symbol. The same one they’d seen in the vault weeks ago. The same one Aylexelen had worn on his ring. Theoden’s jaw tightened. Selene stared at it, her expression unreadable. “Where exactly did you find it?” The scout’s