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**Chapter 127: The Awakening Earth**
The night was unusually still, the air thick with anticipation as the vineyard stood in quiet defiance against whatever was shifting beneath it. The roots trembled—not in fear, but in warning, their pulse matching the erratic glow of Elena's pendant. The balance that had held strong now felt precarious, as though teetering on the edge of revelation.
Elena took a deep breath, pressing her palm against the bark of the ancient tree at the heart of the grove. The warmth that had once comforted her was now colder, uncertain. "It's speaking," she whispered. "But I don't know if it's asking for help or warning us to turn back."
Matteo knelt beside her, pressing his hand against the soil once more. The hum that had been scattered and broken before was changing—it was stronger now, but it carried an unease that was impossible to ignore. "It's waiting for something," he muttered. "Something just beyond our reach."
Isabella stepped forward, her stance rigid, prepared. "Then we find it," she said resolutely. "We've trusted the vineyard—but maybe we haven't asked the right questions."
Luca scanned the vineyard's farthest edges, his gaze sharp and calculating. "The Veil's presence is more than a whisper now," he said. "It's woven into the roots, not as an echo, but as something… alive."
Carlo stood slightly apart, his grip tightening around the ornate box. His expression was unreadable, but when he spoke, his voice was steady—too steady. "The vineyard is calling," he said. "But it may not be calling just for you."
Elena turned to him, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked. "If the balance is shifting, who else would it be calling?"
Carlo exhaled slowly, as though weighing his words. Then, he met her gaze. "The vineyard remembers everything," he said. "Every choice, every mistake, every betrayal. What if it's not just reaching forward—but looking back?"
The words hung in the air, heavy, pressing against the siblings like an unseen force. Pietro, who had been lingering at the edge of the group, let out a dry, bitter laugh. "You mean the vineyard has ghosts?" he asked, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm. "And what happens if they don't like what they see?"
Elena's jaw tightened, the weight of the moment settling into her chest. "Then we don't hide from them," she said firmly. "We face them. Because this vineyard isn't just our legacy—it's our responsibility."
The wind surged, cutting through the vines with unnatural force. The whispers of the Veil rose—not as fragmented thoughts, but as something clearer, something calling them closer.
And as the ground beneath them trembled once more, Elena felt it.
Something was waking up.
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