The journey into the Hollow of Ancients began at dawn, under skies veiled with violet clouds and a sun that rose blood-red. The very air seemed to whisper secrets as Kaelin and Theron walked through the thick forest. Trees arched overhead like cathedral arches, their trunks gnarled with age and their leaves glowing faintly with runes that pulsed in rhythm to an unseen heart.
Kaelin moved silently, her eyes darting around with cautious reverence. “This place… it doesn’t just feel ancient. It feels alive. Like it’s waiting for something.”
“Or someone,” Theron added, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “The Hollow was said to be the cradle of the first bonds. Where the gods once spoke directly to us.”
“Then we better listen,” she muttered.
The first whisper reached them as a breeze
