The forest had gone quiet.
Not the uneasy silence that had filled the land before the tremors. This quiet was different.
Settled.
Alive.
Moonlight spilled through the branches of the newly risen forest wall, painting the reclaimed land in silver. The trees that had surged from the ground now stood tall and unmoving, their roots woven deep into the earth as if they had always been there.
Inside the border, the air felt lighter.
The wolves of Nythera stood scattered through the ruins of their old village, staring at the land that had begun to reveal itself beneath the moss and soil.
Broken foundations had surfaced.
Old paths had cleared themselves.
The central well, dry for twenty years, now held a shallow pool of clear water reflecting the moon.
Ronan stood near the edge of the ho
