Chapter 43. Sanctuary's Shatter

The night refused to settle.

Every creak of the trees, every restless shift of wind carried the scent of danger through the Hollow. The defenses were strong—wards renewed, patrols doubled—but Selene could feel something darker threading through the forest, a taut, unseen cord pulling tighter with every breath she took.

She sat beside one of the outer fires, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes. Sparks hissed as the whetstone kissed steel, brief flashes of light swallowed by the dark. Around her, the camp murmured with subdued motion: whispered strategies, the soft clink of armor and weapons, the low, rhythmic cadence of protective chants murmured by the elders as they fed old magic into the ground.

A few paces away, Alaric spoke with two scouts newly returned from the perimeter. His posture was rigid, his v