The weight of the Watcher's warning hung heavy over the pack. Even as the forest slowly healed, a deeper uncertainty settled within them was the balance truly in their hands, or was it slipping through their fingers?
Lyla spent the morning in the Silver Grove, tracing her fingers over the ancient runes carved into the trees. They glowed faintly, their power still lingering, but she could feel something shifting beneath the surface. The forest was watching. Waiting.
Eli found her there, his presence grounding. “You didn’t sleep,” he said.
Lyla exhaled, shaking her head. “I couldn’t. The Watcher’s words keep replaying in my mind. What if we’re not enough? What if the forest hasn’t chosen us?”
Eli placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then we prove to it that we belong.”
Later that afternoon,
