Chapter 11. Teeth Beneath Silence

The shafts of sunlight in the glade shifted imperceptibly, not growing brighter or dimmer but acquiring a strange patina of age—like the sun itself had grown ancient in the fraction of a heartbeat. Aeryn’s lungs burned as she lay sprawled on the damp moss, each shallow breath a reminder of how near she’d come to collapse. Her ribs ached with the memory of impact; her fingers curled into the soft green cushion, leaving delicate imprints in the moisture-laden carpet beneath her. All around, oak and fir stood motionless, their branches forming a silent cathedral. But the hush that enveloped her was no longer merely empty: it brimmed with expectancy, as though the watching eyes of the forest had grown tired of their vigil and now leaned forward, waiting.

Carefully she drew in a trembling breath and pushed herself upright. A faint sting blossomed across her palms, not the burn of wounds but something far more peculiar. A prickling warmth spread through her skin, teasing at nerve en