Caspian gasped, twisting sharply in the direction Seravine had run. His chest tightened, his breath caught when he felt something in the air had shifted.
It was subtle at first—like the snap of a cord pulled too tight. But then came the weight... an eerie stillness that blanketed the clearing like fog. The winds stilled for a moment, then gusted with unnatural force, shaking branches and scattering brittle maple leaves into the air.
The child in his arms whimpered. Then stilled. His wide, dark eyes didn't blink, fixed on something unseen. Caspian's brows furrowed.
The child felt it too.n aura—once wild, fiery, desperate—had... stopped.
Not vanished. Not entirely. But no longer burning. And then, beneath the slow drift of falling leaves, he appeared.
Asmaros stood at the center of the clearing, framed by the dying violet shade of twilight and the trees mourning with rust-red foliage.
