A Crown Of Moonlit Petals

Chapter 9: The Singing Stone

The Hollow Wood was alive.

Not just in the way all forests were—rustling leaves, creaking trees, creatures darting through the underbrush—but alive in the old way. The magic here pulsed beneath Elara’s feet like a heartbeat. The deeper they went, the stronger it grew.

It was late when they reached a moss-covered clearing. In its center stood a stone, tall and smooth as glass, humming faintly with a sound too soft to be heard—felt instead in the bones.

Caelen paused beside it and touched his fingers to its surface.

“A waystone,” he said. “They mark the Old Paths between realms.”

Elara stepped forward, eyes wide. “It’s singing.”

He glanced at her. “You can hear it?”

She nodded. “Not exactly. I feel it… like it’s calling something inside me.”

Caelen looked at her with something new in his eyes. Not surprise. Recognition.

“You really are of the blood,” he murmured. “There’s no doubt now.”

Elara moved closer to the stone. It thrummed louder as she approached, and when her fingers grazed it, light bloomed beneath her touch—soft and silver, like moonlight rippling across still water.

Images flashed through her mind: a silver tree with roots that touched the stars, a woman with petal-white hair and violet eyes, a crown floating above water.

She gasped and stumbled back.

Caelen caught her. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know. Visions. Dreams. Maybe memories that aren’t mine.”

“The stone responded to you. That means the land remembers you. You’re part of the old magic.”

Elara looked at her hand, still faintly glowing.

Then a sound—sharp and clear—broke the air. A horn, distant but unmistakable.

Caelen’s face darkened. “They’ve found us.”

And the stone’s song turned low and warning, like a bell tolling in the night.