The morning after the council, a silence spread across Luminara. No birds sang. No trees rustled. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Lucky stood at the heart of the glade, staring at the sky where cracks pulsed like veins of light. She could feel Umbrael's presence now—not just in the sky, but beneath her skin, whispering cold promises.
Marla joined her. "He's moving," she said. "Gather your strength. This quiet is the eye of the storm."
Lucky nodded. "Then we move before it passes."