The sky was something gothic.
Kael knew it as soon as he came out of the Hollow Beyond. The wind that met him was not air—it was memory, thick and heavy like the breath of a world that had just woken from its sleep.
To his side, Elira staggered, covering her eyes. The horizon seared with twin suns—a gold one, a wound of violet fire. Strings of color writhed between them like broken glass, vibrating with wild magic.
> "This… isn't the world we left," she breathed.
"No," Kael replied softly, "it isn't.
The ground under them was living. Throbbing. No longer held in the Watcher's silence. All the trees in the distance leaned and writhed as though they knew him. The sky—broken and raw—lay open-eyed.
He could sense it: The Loom had shifted.
And now the gods were stirring.
A shadow crossed the ridge.
