The Hollow Court had never felt colder.
Even with the fire roaring in the hearth, even with Caelum's steady presence beside her, Elira couldn't shake the chill in her bones.
The vision still clung to her skin like mist—Selene's voice, the flames of Eldwyn, and the pulsing glyph that had branded itself into her thoughts.
She stood at the wide stone table, the journal open before her.
It was no longer blank between the glyphs.
New pages had appeared—scripts written in vine-like ink, shaped by her memories.
Maerel approached, silent as ever, her eyes reading the markings over Elira's shoulder.
"You saw it?" she asked. Not with doubt, but gravity.
Elira nodded.
"The true seal… it lies beneath the Shrine of the Bloom.
Deep under the roots.
Selene said it was where the spirits were first bound.
Before even she fused with the forest."
Caelum paced a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"That shrine is nothing but rubble," he said. "I remember the flames. We torched it during the purge."
"No," Elira replied. "The shrine was never fully destroyed. The roots below it survived—and they protected the chamber beneath."
Caelum turned, meeting her gaze. "That means it still exists."
Elira nodded.
"And the final seal is there.
The true prison holding the ancient entity—older than Selene, older than the Order, maybe older than the forest itself.
Selene didn't have the strength to destroy it, only to contain it. But she's shown me the path to finish it."
Maerel stepped forward. "Then we must go. At first light."
"No." Caelum's voice was flat.
"We leave now.
Every moment that thing remains alive, it spreads.
I could feel it below.
Its hunger is moving—twisting the roots."
Maerel opened her mouth to argue, but paused. Something in Caelum's expression silenced her.
It wasn't rage.
It was remorse.
They left the Hollow Court under moonlight, following the winding paths through tangled thickets and stone-laced roots. No words were spoken. The forest around them had gone still—as if holding its breath.
Elira moved in silence, her fingers brushing the glyph on her journal's cover. It pulsed now and then, glowing softly, guiding her steps.
When they reached the ruined shrine, dawn had just begun to stretch across the canopy. The clearing was exactly as Selene had shown her: shattered stones blanketed in moss, a cracked altar choked by vines, and a lone tree growing from the center—its bark pale, its leaves gold.
"This tree wasn't here before," Caelum said.
"It grew from Selene's blood," Elira whispered. "When she gave herself."
Maerel raised her lantern. "Where's the path?"
Elira moved forward, kneeling beside the altar. The vines curled at her touch. Beneath the moss was a glyph—old and incomplete. With trembling fingers, she traced the final line.
A deep rumble echoed through the earth.
Then the ground split, revealing a stair of carved roots descending into darkness.
"Here," she breathed.
The descent was quieter this time. No voices, no laughter, no trickling memories. Just the raw, earthy breath of the forest's deepest veins.
They reached the bottom—a wide chamber of polished stone, lit by veins of glowing sap running through the walls. At the center was a basin of still water.
Floating above it: a single seed, encased in silver flame.
"That's it," Elira whispered. "The seed of binding. It was never destroyed. Selene bound it in memory. But if we don't bury it where it belongs..."
"It will bloom into darkness," Maerel finished.
Suddenly, the air snapped.
A voice—familiar, cruel—coiled around them like smoke.
"Too late, little dreamers."
The shadows shivered.
And from the far end of the chamber, the ancient entity stepped into view—no longer a ghost, no longer smoke. It had grown. Its limbs twisted with bark and bone, its eyes like hollow pits set aflame. Faces flickered along its chest—screaming, forgotten.
"You brought the seed to its roots. You made the path whole."
Elira grabbed the journal, but the glyphs had gone dark.
Caelum stepped forward, placing himself between the entity and Elira.
"No more running," he growled. "This ends here."
The creature laughed—a low, cracking sound that shook the roots above.
"You would defy the forest's will?"
"It's not the forest's will to be devoured," Elira snapped. "Selene showed me. The forest chose healing. Not this."
"Then break," the entity hissed, and lashed out.
Roots shot forward like spears.
Caelum lunged, intercepting them with a roar. He slashed the tendrils with claw and fang, buying Elira a few precious seconds.
"Now, Elira!" he shouted.
Elira turned to the basin, heart racing. The seed hovered just out of reach.
She took a breath, reached inside herself, and whispered the final glyph Selene had given her.
"Virellis."
The glyph ignited on her palm.
She touched the seed.
A blinding surge of light erupted, shooting up the roots, into the walls, into the chamber above—and into the forest.
The entity screamed.
Its body tore apart, unraveling into dust, into echoes, into silence.
And then—
Everything stilled.
Caelum collapsed beside her, panting, smoke curling from his arms.
Elira looked down.
The seed had turned to ash in her hand.
The seal was gone.
So was the curse.
But so was the ancient magic that held Selene to the forest.
A breeze passed through the chamber.
And with it—Selene's voice, faint but smiling.
"Thank you… for setting us free."