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**Chapter 125: The Roots Tremble**
The sky darkened beyond the horizon, shifting from the warm glow of sunset to the eerie stillness of twilight. The vineyard stood unchanged in appearance, yet beneath the soil, something had shifted—something unnatural. The roots that had once pulsed steadily now carried an uneven rhythm, a flicker of something unknown stretching beneath the land.
Elena stepped forward, her fingers curling tightly around the pendant at her chest. Its glow had not returned to its usual warmth. Instead, it pulsed faintly—hesitant, uncertain. "Something isn't right," she murmured, scanning the vineyard. "The balance isn't just shifting—it's reacting to something."
Matteo crouched beside a vine, pressing his hand flat against the earth as he had before. The hum beneath his palm was jagged, fragmented, like scattered whispers instead of a single, unified pulse. "It's like the roots are listening," he said, his voice lined with tension. "But to what?"
Isabella stood tall, her expression sharp and unwavering. "Then we find out," she said firmly. "We've held this balance together—we're not letting anything disrupt it."
Luca's gaze flickered toward the vineyard's edge, where the shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should. "Something is pulling at it," he muttered. "But it's not the Veil—not like before."
Carlo approached, his steps measured, his grip steady on the ornate box in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried weight. "The vineyard has changed," he said. "The roots are reacting because something has come closer. Something unseen."
Elena turned to Carlo, her resolve steeling despite the unease creeping over her skin. "What do we do?" she asked. "If something is disturbing the balance, how do we protect it?"
Carlo hesitated just long enough for uncertainty to settle over them. Then, slowly, he exhaled. "You face it," he said. "You don't turn away from the unknown—you meet it."
The siblings exchanged glances, their unity strong despite the tension rising between them. Pietro stood at the edge of the group, his usual smirk absent. His voice was low, edged with doubt. "And what happens if the unknown is stronger than us?" he asked. "What happens if we can't face it?"
Elena met his gaze with unwavering certainty. "Then we find a way," she said. "Because we don't run. Not from this—not from each other."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the vineyard, sharp and urgent, carrying with it a whisper—not from the Veil, but from somewhere deeper, somewhere unseen. The roots beneath them trembled, pulling at the earth, as if reaching for something beyond their understanding.
Elena tightened her grip on the pendant, her pulse matching its erratic glow. Whatever lay ahead, the vineyard was calling them toward it.
And this time, it would not wait.
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