They didn't speak as they ran—only the rhythm of their breath and footsteps broke the silence.
The city walls faded behind them, swallowed by fog and moonlight. The forest ahead loomed like a secret only they were meant to find.
Finally, when their lungs burned and the path curved into a quiet glade, Kael slowed. Lira stumbled to a stop beside him, her cloak soaked, her curls clinging to her cheeks.
"Are we safe?" she asked, trying to steady her breath.
Kael scanned the trees. "For now. They won't follow us this far. Not yet."
Lira leaned against a mossy tree trunk. "You said I'm the key to something... ancient. What does that mean?"
Kael hesitated.
"The Court thinks your voice is rare," he said. "But it's more than rare. It's powerful. Your songs don't just move hearts… they move real things—magic sealed long ago."
Lira blinked. "But that's just a story. My mother—"
"—knew the truth," he finished. "She was one of the last Singers of the Hollow."
Lira went cold. The Hollow was a myth. A land of melody and memory. A place where songs opened doors and silenced wars.
"But it's real?" she whispered.
Kael nodded. "And it's calling to you."
Just then, a gust of wind swept through the glade. Leaves danced around them like whispers.
And in that moment—Lira heard it.
A soft, haunting melody riding the wind.
No lyrics. No source. Just a tune she had never heard, yet somehow knew.
She turned to Kael, heart racing. "Did you hear that?"
He didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on her—not afraid, not surprised.
But reverent.
> "The moment you looked at me," he said quietly, "I knew my life would never be mine again."
Lira's breath caught in her throat.
And somewhere in the distance, the melody continued… as if the forest itself had started to sing.