Chapter 14. The Marrow Song

The storm began beneath the skin.

It was not wind or lightning, but memory convulsing inside every living thing. Leaves curled inward. Birds crashed mid-flight. Wolves howled in dissonant harmony—mourning, warning, remembering. The Hollowed had withdrawn physically, but their presence thickened in the very marrow of the valley.

Aria awoke in sweat, heart pounding to the rhythm of a drum she could not hear. Beside her, Solin stirred and mumbled incoherent fragments of song. Kade sat at the edge of the chamber, blade unsheathed, watching shadows that didn’t belong.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

Kade nodded without turning. “It’s in the bones. The foundation. This place is forgetting itself again.”

Jules burst in, wild-eyed. “The water in the western glade ran uphill. Ren says the stars are no longer in sequence. And the Soulbinder’s echo—”

Aria stood. “What about it?”

“She’s singing again. But it’s not to us.”

They ran to the high