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Silverglade wasn’t empty.
Not in the way we thought.
We found it at noon on the second day. The Fae court was eerily silent, no birds, no wind, no sound at all. Like the world had forgotten how to make noise here.
The houses were intact. The gardens were still green. But everything felt… dim. Colors were muted. Light felt weak, like we were looking through dirty glass.
“The light is being eaten,” Lyra whispered, holding up a crystal. It was supposed to glow on its own. It was dead. “They’re consuming magic in the air. In the land. In everything.”
Darius had his sword out, scanning the treeline. “Where are they?”
The answer came in the form of movement.
Shadows detached from the trees. Not Lycan shadows. Not normal shadows at all.
They were holes.
Perfect black voids in the shap
