Chapter 88. The Choosing Field

The first glyph appeared three nights after the girl left.

It wasn’t near the compound. Not near the glade. Not near anything known.

A scout from the far northwest returned pale, shaking.

“They said it was carved in stone,” he whispered. “But no one did it. They woke up, and it was just there—humming.”

Cassandra frowned. “What kind of glyph?”

The scout reached into his coat and pulled out a rubbing.

The charcoal symbol smeared, but recognizable: seven branches, spiraled downward.

Aria stared.

Not her mark.

The root glyph.

Jules leaned forward. “So it’s spreading?”

“No,” Aria said softly. “It’s being… chosen.”

The room fell silent.

And then, quietly—another scout stepped forward.

“I saw one too,” she said. “East of Emberlake. Burned into the underside of a fallen log. When I touched it, the bark vibrated.”

Another voice joined: “A tree near Smokevale bloomed out of season. Leaves in the pattern