The Warden Beast's breath came slower now—deep, rhythmic, a lullaby carved from the old world's lungs. Its massive form, once poised to destroy, now softened into light. The final threads of its essence lifted from its bark-veined limbs like mist rising from morning soil, spiraling gently into the air.
Vitalaira didn't move at first.
She simply stood there, eyes locked on the dissolving beast. She didn't speak again—not with words. Not yet. But the forest around them understood. It had heard her.
And it obeyed.
The clearing brightened—not from the sky, but from beneath. The earth began to glow, faint at first, then steadier, as if something beneath the soil had awakened. Lines of mana—thin, bioluminescent veins—crisscrossed underfoot, converging around the base of the ancient tree that housed the relic.
Lucavion took a breath, slow and steady. The air here had changed. Not denser. Not heavier.
Fuller.
Then Vitaliara turned to him.
[Lucavion, sit.]
He blinked.
