The forest shook beneath twilight clouds as three stood under the ancient branches of the Whispering Pines—where no creature dared to step and even spirits suspended breath.

Ezra stood in the lead, cloak dripping with blood and ash from his flight. His worn-out eyes bristled with fresh determination. Anabelle's dwindling light kept him grounded, and the recollection of his children's laughter hardened his purpose.

Quinn came in silence, barefoot on the moss, her serenity still tingling. She ...