The sun rose slowly over Silvercrest, painting the forest in shades of gold and quiet promise.

For the first time in weeks, the air was clear. The fog that had clung to Ghostwood’s borders was gone, burned away by the light. Birds sang in the distance. The wind carried the scent of pine and wet soil instead of blood.

Evelyn stood at the edge of the ridge, watching the valley come alive again. Behind her, the forest whispered softly — not in warning this time, but in peace. The weight ...