The moon hung swollen above the world, pale as bone and sharp as memory.
Its light poured down through the canopy, catching on the edges of the path that hadn't existed an hour ago—unfolding like the petal of some ancient bloom, coaxed into being by blood, magic, and defiance.
Kael hadn’t let go of her since the Grove fell silent. Not because he doubted her strength. He’d seen her reshape the world with her bare hands. But strength didn't keep people from being taken. He remembered that too well—how the world could find the smallest crack and pry it open with cruelty disguised as kindness, with silence disguised as peace.
So his arm stayed around her waist, a tether more than a support. Isabella’s steps were steady, but something in her shimmered faintly, as if she were still half-roote
