The wind howled through the ancient ruins like a mournful song, echoing the weight of the decision Aria had just made.

She stood in the heart of the Hollowed Vale, where the veil between realms thinned under the light of the Blood Moon. Caleb’s fingers were still laced in hers, warm, grounding. Around them, the Circle watched in tense silence—Rowan, Solene, Elena, even Lorian, bound now by truce if not trust.

The air buzzed with something older than magic. Something watching.

“I felt ...