Kelvin wiped at his face. His fingers came back and streaked red. He laughed weakly. "Still see straight, so that I will call it a win."
Lyra said nothing. She just turned away, wiping her blades, her shoulders trembling. When the fog finally cleared, they saw it.
Deeper in the forest stood a stone altar, half-buried in roots, its surface was etched with runes glowing faint green. Bones were piled around it in neat stacks with arms, legs, skulls that are arranged like offerings.
Lyra walked toward it slowly, her face pale. "I have seen this before." "Where?" Darius asked.
Her eyes darkened. "On the night Elara died. The cultists carved the same runes into the stones around our village. This… this is how they bind the Hollow to their will. They don't just worship it. They farm it."
