Chapter 42
Before the Flame
They gathered in silence.
Not for tradition.
Not for spectacle.
But for something older than both.
Intention.
The Grove, newly awakened and aware, pulsed in slow rhythm. Roots intertwined with breath. Flames curled along the bark like veins of memory.
In the hollow where once the crater had opened like a wound, a ring of stone had been formed not by hands, but by will.
In its center stood Sira.
Barefoot. Calm. Glowing faintly with the dusk light that lived in her now.
Elira stood opposite her.
Not as queen.
Not like a mother.
But as something rarer.
Witness.
Kael’s hand brushed Elira’s back, grounding her, saying nothing.
Words will not serve here.
Only the flame would.
Maera stepped into the circle first, carrying the twin relics of the Grove
