The hall smelled of rain and old tension.
Maren’s words still hung in the air like something sharp no one wanted to touch. The lanterns along the walls flickered, not from wind, but from the way silence can make even light feel uncertain.
Lila stood very still.
Her hand rested over her stomach, not protectively now, but deliberately—as if she were reminding her own body that fear was not allowed to run the room.
Caleb broke the quiet first.
“What kind of charm?” he asked, voice low and controlled.
Maren didn’t look away from Lila as she answered. “Bone. Thread. Blood. The kind meant to bind lives that shouldn’t be bound.”
Seren’s eyes darkened. “Elara’s work.”
“Yes,” Maren said. “And not hers alone.”
The baby kicked, a firm push that made Lila inhale sharply. Caleb stepped closer
