The Grove had fallen silent.

Not the quiet of peace, but the breathless stillness before something sacred awakens.

The moon hung directly above the circle, pale and swollen, spilling silver light over the ancient runes carved into the stone. Mist coiled low over the ground, shimmering faintly as though alive. The air itself seemed to hum — deep and low, a vibration that stirred the soul.

Bella stood at the center of the circle. Her bare feet pressed against the cold earth, her pulse beating ...