Elara's POV
The silver-white feather lay on the moss like a star that fell from the sky. I picked it up. It was soft, cool and so tender to the touch, and seemed to hum with a faint energy that resonated with the pulse in my chest. It was a sign. A deliberate one.
I showed it to Lucian at first light. His face darkened.
"Owl feather," he muttered. "But not from any natural owl. This is marked. It's a tracker. A polite one, but still a tracker, they are all the same."
"She's marking our path?" I asked, a chill running down my spine.
"Or marking you maybe," he said, his gaze intense. "She knows what you are, and she's letting you know that she's watching you. It changes nothing. We stick to the plan. But we must move faster. And we must be watchful of the skies."
We left the Heartwood
