The air inside the shelter didn’t move. It wasn’t warm, and it wasn’t comfortable, but it was still—so still that the sudden absence of wind made Elira’s ears ring. After hours of groaning trees and shifting fog, the quiet felt unnatural. Elira lowered herself onto the stone beside Myla, her arms trembling with relief and exhaustion. The bench was cold enough to sting through her worn trousers. Myla lay slumped against the rough wall, her chest rising in shallow, uneven

The hum didn’t stop when Elira stepped back from the tree. It stayed in her bones, low and heavy, as if the sap were still moving under her skin. The vial shook in her hand. Far off in the fog, something massive shifted—branches? Footsteps? The sound was too thick to name. Kieran’s head snapped toward the noise. “We shouldn’t stay here.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. He slid his arms under Myla and lifted her, jaw clenched against the weight. The wound was gone, but her sh

A weekly fantasy blog series set in a magical, fractured world. Follow Kieran, Myla, and Elira as destiny stirs in the ruins of Elarion.