The weight of the looming war pressed down on Lena as she sat hunched over the old wooden desk in her cottage, poring over page after page of ancient texts. The air around her hummed with tension, thick and electric, as if the very atmosphere in Ashen Hollow was reacting to the leyline’s growing instability. The once peaceful flow of magic beneath the town had become a torrent, violent and unpredictable, and with every day that passed, the threat of the Wendigo’s awakening grew stronger.
Lena had known from the beginning that her connection to the leyline meant she was tied to its fate. But now, as she scoured the dusty volumes that littered her desk—grimoires and scrolls written by witches long dead—she was beginning to understand just how dire the situation was. The leyline was breaking
