Celestial Threads

Chapter 8: The Mark of a Dreamweaver

Aurora’s mind spun.

The power of the Dreamweavers? That was impossible. Dreamweavers were long gone—Darius himself had said they were hunted, destroyed. And yet… the mist had shattered at her command. The Shadeborn had recoiled from her.

Her hands still tingled with the remnants of that strange energy.

She swallowed hard. “That doesn’t make sense. I—I’m not a Dreamweaver.”

Darius studied her, his silver eyes sharp. “Then explain what just happened.”

Aurora couldn’t.

Lysander crossed his arms, still wary. “So, what? She’s suddenly special?”

“She was always special,” Darius muttered.

Aurora’s pulse quickened, but she pushed it aside. “This doesn’t change the fact that Kael betrayed us.” Her voice wavered slightly. “He knew something about me. About all of this.”

Celeste sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Well, we won’t get answers standing around here. What now?”

Darius glanced at the sky. “We keep moving. The ruins are close. And if Kael wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have bothered leading us here. He still needs something from us.”

Aurora exhaled shakily but nodded. Answers lay ahead.

And she was done running from them.

The Ruins of Eldros

By nightfall, they arrived.

The ruins of Eldros stretched before them, ancient stone structures crumbling under the weight of time. Vines crawled over the remnants of towers, and the air smelled of damp earth and forgotten history.

Aurora shivered. The place felt alive, as though it was watching them.

“Stay close,” Darius murmured.

They stepped into the ruins, their footsteps echoing against the broken stone. Strange symbols were carved into the walls—runes that pulsed faintly as Aurora passed.

Then, she felt it.

A pull—deep in her chest, guiding her forward.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched one of the runes.

The ground trembled.

A gust of wind howled through the ruins, and suddenly, the runes ignited with light—glowing the same golden hue that had burst from her back in the forest.

Lysander cursed, drawing his sword. “What did you just do?”

Aurora couldn’t answer. A force surged through her veins, ancient and powerful, as if something inside her had awakened.

Then—a voice.

Not spoken. Not heard.

Felt.

“You have returned.”

The ruins trembled once more, and before them, the ground cracked open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward into darkness.

Darius’s expression was unreadable. “Well. That’s new.”

Celeste groaned. “Why is it always the creepy underground tunnels?”

Aurora, however, barely heard them.

Because the moment the voice had spoken… something inside her had whispered back.

Home.