Elias POV:
He had known they were coming long before they stepped into the refuge.
The Hollow whispered it through its roots, through the trembling leaves, through the soft ripple of the spring. But nothing prepared Elias for the sight of the Oracle in Aeris's arms — small, pale, his glow flickering like a dying ember.
"You brought him," Elias breathed, the words cracking under their own weight. "At last."
Aeris stepped back, wind curling protectively around him. Noctis moved in front of them both, shadows rising like a wall.
"Who are you," Noctis growled, "and why do you know him?"
Elias closed his book gently, steadying his breath. "I am the one who has waited. The one who knows what he is… and what he must become."
Aeris's voice shook. "What's wrong with him?"
"His magic is waking faster than his body can bear," Elias said softly. "If we don't act soon, he will fade."
Rowan stepped forward, wincing. "Can you help him?"
"I can guide," Elias said. "But Sylas must heal him."
Sylas nodded once. "Tell me what to do."
"Not here," Elias said. "The Hollow presses too close. We need the sanctuary."
He turned toward the far edge of the clearing, where the trees grew impossibly tight. With a raised hand, Elias coaxed them apart. The trunks shivered, branches unwove, and a narrow path of glowing moss revealed itself.
"Follow me," he said. "Quickly."
They stepped into the passage. The forest closed behind them, sealing the path like a heartbeat.
Noctis stiffened. "That normal?"
"It keeps the corruption out," Elias murmured.
"And us in," Noctis muttered.
Elias didn't deny it.
The deeper they walked, the quieter the Hollow became. No wind. No distant roars. Only the soft glow of moss and the faint sound of water ahead.
Aeris's voice cracked. "How much farther?"
"Close," Elias said. "He's fading."
Aeris clutched the Oracle tighter. Noctis moved closer, shadows bristling. Rowan limped but kept pace. Sylas walked steady as stone.
They reached a bend, and the path opened into a hidden glade — a sanctuary untouched by corruption. Moonlight filtered through silver leaves. A pool of glowing water shimmered at the center, ringed by ancient stone pillars wrapped in moss.
A place older than the Hollow.
Older than the guardians.
Older than Elias himself.
Aeris stared. "What is this?"
"A threshold," Elias said. "Where the old magic still breathes."
Sylas stepped forward, reverent. "It's real."
"It called to me," Elias whispered.
Noctis's shadows rose. "And what do we do here?"
Elias turned to them, solemn. "This is where Sylas will heal him. Where the Hollow cannot reach him. Where the prophecy begins."
Aeris swallowed hard. "And us?"
"You stand with him," Elias said. "All of you. He will need every one of you before this night is over."
He gestured to the glowing pool.
"Bring him to the water."
Aeris stepped forward, the Oracle limp in his arms.
Elias watched, heart pounding.
Please, he begged silently.
Let us be in time.