The chant had become the heartbeat of the clearing. Six voices, too thin and high for the weight they carried, rolled like a tide against an ancient shore. Alaric’s voice led, deliberate and steady, syllables shaped like stone. Hope followed, sharper, drawing each word like a blade. Dorian added his grit, teeth clenched, the sound scraping raw but holding firm. The three younger children wove through them, humming fragments of the same old language, their tones carrying the pattern forward even when their words failed.
The shadows obeyed. They weren’t nets anymore; they were chains folding back on their master. Black cords wrapped Valerius’s legs, climbed his hips, crossed his chest. His jaw strained, teeth bared against the ribbon crawling toward his mouth. He pulled with all the might o
