The dawn came pale and uncertain, washing the marsh in a thin veil of gold that did little to chase away the cold. Frost glittered on the reeds like shards of glass. The air smelled of iron and smoke. What had once been the Circle's heart was now a crater, the stones cracked and half-buried in the mud.
Liora stood at its edge, her breath fogging faintly. She felt the pull of the Beast within her—not separate anymore, but joined, a steady pulse at the base of her mind. When she moved, she felt its weight, its strength, the ancient calm that steadied her hands even as her heart trembled.
Corren approached quietly. His armor was dented, the silver edge of his blade dull with frost. "You shouldn't be standing yet," he said.
"I can't rest," she replied. Her voice had changed—lower, carrying a resonance that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It's still here. Beneath us. Sleeping again, but not gone."
Maren limped toward them, her robes stiff with dried blood. "Then we've only bought time."
Liora turned to her. "Time is all we ever had."
They buried the dead by noon. The villagers who had survived came in silence, carrying stones to mark the graves. The marsh water had turned a strange silver color, rippling without wind, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
When the last stone was set, Maren lit a candle and placed it among them. "May the Circle guide your spirits," she murmured. "May the marsh remember your names."
The flame trembled, then steadied. For a moment, the stillness felt sacred.
Corren watched Liora as she stood apart from the others. The light touched her hair, revealing the faint shimmer of gold that wasn't there before. Her eyes no longer looked wholly human. When she blinked, he could see the faint echo of the Beast in her gaze—an outline of antlers, a flash of wild light.
"What happens to you now?" he asked quietly when he joined her.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked toward the horizon where mist rolled like smoke over the reeds. "Something's changed. The marsh listens differently now. The bond... it's not just between me and the Beast. It's in everything."
"In everything?"
Liora nodded. "In the roots. The water. Even in you."
Corren frowned, uneasy. "You sound like them now—the elders who talk to stones."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe they were right all along."
That night, the stars did not appear. A sheet of pale light hung over the sky, faint and shifting, as though the veil between worlds had thinned. Liora walked through the ruins of the Circle, feeling the energy hum beneath her feet. The marsh whispered around her, not in words but in tone—a low, mournful note that carried both gratitude and warning.
When she reached the altar, the Beast appeared beside her—not as a separate being, but as a reflection of herself. Its body shimmered with starlight, massive and graceful, eyes glowing faintly.
We are bound beyond the Circle now, it said inside her mind. The seal lies within you.
"I can feel it," she murmured. "But I don't know how long it will hold."
Long enough, the Beast answered. If you walk where the light fails, it may yet strengthen. The Sleeper's shadow stretches far.
Liora's jaw tightened. "Then I'll follow it. Wherever it leads."
The Beast inclined its head. Then you are no longer merely the bond-bearer. You are the Warden of the Marsh.
By dawn, she was gone.
Corren found her tracks leading north, into the shallows where the reeds grew thick and the mist hung like torn cloth. He followed for a time, until the trail vanished into the still water. Maren stood beside him, her hands folded tightly.
"She's part of it now," Maren said quietly. "The marsh won't let her go."
Corren's fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword. "And if the Sleeper rises again?"
"Then the Warden will rise with it."
They stood in silence as the sun broke through the mist. For a moment, the light spread across the water, and Corren could have sworn he saw her figure standing far away—half woman, half beast, crowned in gold. Then the mist swallowed her again.
Far from the village, in the deep marsh where no one had walked for generations, Liora stopped beneath the twisted boughs of a willow. The water was black here, still as glass. The air shimmered faintly, the border between worlds fragile and thin.
She knelt and placed her hand on the surface of the water. It rippled outward, glowing softly where her fingers touched.
"Sleep," she whispered to the unseen depths. "But if you wake again, I'll be waiting."
The marsh answered with a low, resonant hum that rolled through the earth. The glow faded.
Liora rose and turned toward the distant north. A faint path shimmered before her, carved not by feet but by power—ancient lines of force stretching toward lands unknown. The Beast's presence stirred within her, urging her forward.
The Sleeper was not gone. It had only withdrawn, its influence reaching beyond the marsh, seeking other cracks in the world.
Liora walked on, her shadow merging with the mist, her steps echoing softly. Behind her, the reeds bent as if in reverence. The air carried a single whisper that seemed to belong to the land itself:
Warden.
She did not look back.
The marsh fell silent once more, holding its secret beneath the frost.