KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

The damp earth beneath my feet mingled with the scent of pine and moss as we gathered in the heart of the forest, a natural cathedral shrouded in shadows and secrets. Elara Windrider's keen eyes scanned the perimeter, while Gamma Thorne stood watchful and silent, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. My son Eden, his expression a mask of serene focus, held the magic-laden scepter with a reverence that bespoke of ancient bonds and unspoken oaths. And there, ...