The mist had teeth tonight.
Aelira felt them as she stepped deeper into the ruins beyond the wellspring, where even the bravest witches dared not go. The ground pulsed with old magic. Not the kind she carried in her blood, not even the wild elemental surge she had felt in Saelwyn's memories. This was something else.
Something older.
"We shouldn't be here," Kaeln said, his voice low. But he followed her anyway, torchlight flickering across moss-draped stones.
"We have no choice," Aelira whispered. "If the coven is hiding more than they burned me for... this is where we'll find it."
A worn path, overgrown and nearly lost to time, led them into the hollow. A stone arch rose ahead, carved with sigils neither of them recognized. Not witchcraft. Not mortal.
The wind died as they stepped beneath it.
The air grew colder, too cold for the season. Silence fell like a veil, pressing against their ears.
Then, from the shadows—movement.
Kaeln raised his blade. Aelira stood still.
The creature emerged slowly, gracefully, as though it had been waiting. Tall, draped in twilight-colored robes, its skin shimmered like obsidian dipped in silver. Eyes like frostbitten moons fixed on Aelira.
"Saelwyn," it said, the voice layered and ancient.
Aelira flinched. "That name no longer belongs to me."
The creature stepped forward, revealing pointed ears, elongated fingers tipped with silver claws, and hair that moved like smoke. Two more emerged behind it—one male, one neither.
"Perhaps," the first said, "but the mark remains. And you woke the Hollow. That is our right."
Kaeln stepped forward. "Dark Fae."
The being inclined its head. "Once, your kind called us allies. Before your flames turned traitor."
Aelira swallowed hard. "You knew Saelwyn."
The second fae hissed softly. "We bound her power to ours. She kept your lands alive while your coven turned blind. We warned her. They feared what they could not control."
Aelira's fingers curled into fists. The sigil on her palm burned.
"Then tell me what they feared. Why they destroyed her. Why they still hunt me."
The lead fae's eyes gleamed. "Because Saelwyn carried more than power. She carried a promise—a key sealed in her blood. A bridge between worlds."
Kaeln's brow furrowed. "A bridge?"
The third fae, the one who hadn't spoken yet, finally did. Their voice was like a cold river. "Magic is dying. Slowly, but surely. She tried to stop it. You all burned her before she could succeed."
Aelira stepped closer. "And what do you want now?"
A ripple of energy passed between the three fae. "We want what was promised: the pact fulfilled. The balance restored."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then magic dies with you."
Aelira looked at Kaeln. For once, he had no answer.
---
Back at Bloodroot House, the tension thickened like a stormcloud.
Nessa sat alone in the candlelit dormitory, eyes red from sleepless nights. The other young witches whispered about her now, always just loud enough for her to hear.
"She bears the mark." "She didn't collapse in the circle—she glowed." "They say she speaks in her sleep, in a tongue no one taught."
She pulled the blanket tighter around her, but it didn't help. Something inside her was changing. Her dreams had become too vivid, her skin prickled when spells were cast near her.
And worse—she was remembering.
Not memories from her childhood, but older. Centuries older. Fires. Blood. A name whispered in the wind: Elien. Her name from another life.
Nessa bolted upright.
Elien had been Saelwyn's younger sister.
---
Meanwhile, in the Council chamber, Vyra stood at the edge of her patience. Her hands trembled, not with fear—but rage.
"They've made contact," whispered the seer beside her, eyes white with sight.
"The fae?"
"Yes."
Vyra's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Then the Hollow is waking. The balance is shifting. We must move quickly."
The Council stirred uneasily.
"You burned her once," said the eldest witch. "You may not be able to do it again."
Vyra turned, golden eyes sharp. "Then we do not burn her. We bind her. This time, we erase her soul completely."
---
Back at the Hollow, Aelira watched the dark fae vanish into mist.
"They'll return," Kaeln said. "Fae never give warnings unless they already have a plan."
Aelira nodded, her fingers still tingling. "They're right. We've been fighting the wrong war."
She turned to him, her voice shaking with new resolve.
"If magic is dying, and I'm the key—they'll kill me before I can unlock it."
Kaeln stared at her. "Then we'll unlock it before they do."
The ground beneath them trembled. A pulse echoed across the grove. Far away, in Bloodroot House, every candle flickered and died at once.
Aelira raised her eyes to the silver moon.
Something was coming.