Chapter 39
The Grove hadn’t stopped humming since the trial.
The saplings still leaned toward the center clearing, their runes glowing faintly like breath held.
But the peace wasn’t stillness.
It was a pause.
And pauses never lasted long.
Elira sensed it first.
A fracture in the rhythm.
Not danger. Not magic.
Motion.
A lone rider approached the southern roots.
Wrapped in gray linen. Hood drawn low.
No insignia. No scent of blood.
But the Grove leaned away from him.
Elira met him at the edge.
Kael on her right, Cyra on her left. Maera above on the rise, bow unstrung but ready.
The stranger removed his hood slowly.
No scars. No sigil. Just a soft, unfamiliar face.
He bowed once, but not low.
Not submission. Courtesy.
“I bring no threat.”
“Only what was left behind.”
He
