The calm did not last.
It never did.
By dawn, the sky itself seemed wrong.
Not dark.
Not storming.
Just… off.
Elara felt it before anyone said a word.
A subtle pull beneath her ribs.
A pressure behind her eyes.
Like something unseen was pressing against the world again—
Testing it.
Searching for weakness.
She stood at the edge of the camp as the first light crept across the horizon, her arms folded tightly as she tried to steady the unease building inside her.
It wasn't just her power reacting.
It was something deeper.
Something older.
And it was waking up.
"You feel it too."
Draven's voice came from behind her.
She didn't turn.
"Yes."
He stepped beside her, his gaze scanning the distant ridges.
"What is it?"
Elara exhaled slowly.
"I don't know."
A pause.
"But it's not him."
That alone made it worse.
Draven frowned.
"Then what?"
Her fingers curled slightly.
The crimson thread beneath her power stirred faintly—
Restless.
Hungry.
