The moon was being devoured.
Not all at once not a dramatic eclipse that mortals would gather to watch in frightened awe but slowly, deliberately, as if something vast and patient were taking measured bites from its light. A darkness crept across its surface, feathered at the edges like ink bleeding into water.
Seraphine felt every fraction of it.
The moon was no longer just a celestial body to her. It was anchor, prison, heartbeat. Its weakening tore through her like a blade drawn along exposed nerves.
She staggered, catching herself on the trunk of a silver-lit tree as the realm lurched.
“What is that?” she demanded, voice strained.
Caelum did not look surprised.
“They’ve begun,” he said quietly.
A tremor ripped through the Veil, stronger than any before. Cracks of dull gray spr
