THE CALL OF THE AWAKENED
The sky did not heal.
That was the first thing Nara noticed as dawn crept over the ruined forest.
The silver cracks still marred the heavens, thin fractures of light stretching like veins across the pale morning sky. They pulsed slowly, rhythmically—alive. Every beat sent a dull ache through her chest, as if something far away was calling to her blood.
Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, silent and watchful, his broad shoulders rigid. He had not slept. None of them truly had.
The forest bore the scars of the night’s battle—uprooted trees, scorched earth, the lingering scent of corruption slowly fading beneath the morning breeze. Wolves moved quietly among the wreckage, tending wounds, murmuring in low voices. Riven lay nearby, propped against a fallen trun
