Chapter 11. The Queen’s Hunt

Dawn broke crimson—an omen bleeding slowly across the treetops. Even the land seemed to feel it, the air taut and watchful, as though the forest itself had drawn a breath and chosen not to release it.

Selene stood at the edge of spirit-ground, bare feet planted in cool moss still wet with night. The mark on her chest glimmered faintly silver despite the daylight, no longer flaring but alive in a steady, knowing way. Alaric stood beside her, silent and still. Since the shrine, words had felt unnecessary, almost inadequate.

The bond between them hummed like a live wire—hot, complete, impossible to ignore.

It was finished.

And the world would feel the shift.

“They know,” Alaric said at last.