Chapter 13
Elira dreamed of silence.
Not peace.
The kind of silence that follows ruin. The kind that settles after something precious has been lost forever.
When her eyes opened, snow was falling again.
Soft flakes drifted through the shattered dome above, dusting the stone floor around her. She lay swaddled in blankets that smelled of crushed herbs, blood, and smoke. Every inch of her body ached dull and hollow.
But it was her hand that burned.
She lifted it slowly... and froze.
The Hollow rune was gone.
Where once it had glowed gold with living magic, now only faint scar tissue remained. Pale. Numb. Empty.
Like something sacred had been carved out of her and never replaced.
Nyla in Command
Outside, the Sanctuary of Aruvel stirred like a wounded beast.
Walls cracked. Statues
