The forest stilled.
Moonlight bled through the clouds in narrow beams, painting silver trails through the trees, but the clearing around the Spirit Altar was unnaturally silent. Even the wind dared not move. At its center, Elena lay motionless, wrapped in the energy of the Thirteenth Moon—an ancient force long thought forgotten.
Aria's breath caught. Her fingers trembled, not from fear, but awe. The markings that had appeared on Elena's skin glowed faintly, etching spirals, runes, and symbols no one had seen since the time of the First Circle.
"She's waking," Solene whispered, stepping beside her. Her voice held reverence—and dread.
Caleb stood just behind them, arms folded, but his posture tense. His eyes had changed again—no longer just silver or spirit blue. They shimmered with traces of stardust. Whatever had happened when he touched the moon relic still lingered.
Elena's eyes snapped open.
They glowed white.
