Chapter 43. Sanctuary's Shatter

The night was restless.

Every creak of the trees, every shift in the wind carried the scent of danger. The Hollow’s defenses were strong, but Selene could feel the pulse of something darker threading through the woods—an unseen tension tightening with every breath.

She sat by one of the outer fires, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate movements. Sparks hissed as the whetstone kissed metal. Around her, the camp murmured with quiet activity: whispered plans, the clink of weapons, the low thrum of protective chants murmured by the elders.

Alaric stood a few paces away, speaking with two scouts who had just returned. His posture was rigid, his voice a low rumble of authority. Selene watched him for a moment, the way he carried the weight of leadership as easily as he carried a sword.

She hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on him. Not just for protecti