The boundary stones were quiet when I first approached them. Quiet in that heavy, waiting way that made my stomach twist. The trees around the clearing did not rustle. The wind did not move. Even the snow seemed frozen in midair, caught in suspense.
I stepped closer.
The mark on my palm reacted before anything else did. A pulse of heat rolled through my hand, up my arm, into my chest. I hissed and pressed my palm against my thigh.
Then the stones woke up.
Light burst across the carvings like someone had poured silver lightning through the cracks. Lines of runes flared along the ground in jagged paths, tracing across snow and dirt and dead leaves. The air shimmered, making the world ripple around me like it was breathing.
I stumbled back, heart hammering. “No. Not this again.”
But the
