Talia POV
The portal sealed behind them with a soft, shuddering whisper—light folding in on itself until only the quiet woods remained.
Talia blinked, steadying herself as the air shifted. The first thing she noticed was the smell: pine sap split open by damp bark, rich loam turned dark by recent rain, and something warmer beneath it—smoke from hearth fires and fresh bread. Life. Not the sterile cold of Obsidian Ridge’s stone halls, but the breathing scent of earth reclaiming itself.
She inhaled deeply.
They were home—but not the home she had left.
Lucian stood close, his hand firm at the small of her back, grounding her as the last threads of magic faded. He scanned the tree line automatically, posture loose but ready, as if expecting the forest itself to move against them. Only when
