The years in Oakhaven were a gentle, flowing river. Nox and Serian built a life from the simple, solid materials of their new world: stone from the hills, wood from the forest, and a quiet, steadfast love that was the foundation of it all. The grand, cosmic powers they once wielded slept within them, quiet and content. Here, strength was measured by the straightness of a fence line, and magic was the way the morning sun slanted through the kitchen window.
They were happy. It was a profound and simple truth.
But the universe is a place of echoes.
It began subtly. A shepherd on the high ridges reported a strange, cold wind that did not stir the grass. A hunter found tracks of a creature that belonged to no known beast, tracks that seemed to fade into nothing at the forest's edge. Travelers from other valleys spoke of a creeping sense of unease, of shadows that seemed a little too long in the afternoon sun.
