The forest didn’t sleep that night.
The Hollow’s awakening had rippled outward like a dropped stone in still water—disturbing not just the land, but everything beneath it. Birds flew in panicked circles. Wolves howled and then fell silent, sensing their gods had changed. The trees whispered in a language older than teeth or flame.
And Aelira stood in the heart of it all, unblinking.
Cain moved with the kind of patience only born predators had. He didn’t touch her, didn’t speak. He just watched her like a star poised to fall—beautiful, terrifying, and bound to leave a crater.
“You could kill them all,” he said finally, voice low and calm. “You feel it, don’t you?”
She did.
The power buzzed beneath her skin like bees in a jar—too full, too loud. The Hollow wasn’t done with her. It had
