The lights moved through the forest like a river of stars.
Hundreds of them.
Silent.
Steady.
Purposeful.
Black Hollow watched from windows, rooftops, and balconies as the silver procession emerged from the trees.
No one spoke.
Because everyone felt it.
The throne beneath Draven Ridge pulsed in a rhythm Midnight had never experienced before.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Recognition.
The kind of recognition reserved for something ancient.
Something beloved.
Something thought lost forever.
The silver lights continued approaching.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until the townspeople could finally see them clearly.
And the entire valley fell silent.
They weren't lanterns.
They weren't keys.
Not exactly.
They were memories.
Living memories.
Floating silver fragments containing sc
