The victory over the Shade of Sienna felt like a hollow echo in the grand hall. The violet stains on the obsidian walls didn't fade; they pulsed with a low, rhythmic thrum that matched the Star-Core’s heartbeat. It was a parasitic rhythm—a slow, patient consumption of the mountain’s light.
"The soil is dead," High Priestess Lyanna whispered, her fingers brushing the blackened dirt of the courtyard. "Not just burned. Empty. The life-force hasn't been destroyed; it’s been replaced."
Elara stood by the cedar table, her Trident of the Tides leaning against her shoulder. The Aurora-mark on her chest felt like a hot coal. She could feel the subterranean aquifer—the very one she had used to bypass the gates—turning sour.
"It’s the water," Elara said, her golden eyes snapping toward Kaelen. "Th
