The forest had changed.
As Lyra left the stone circle behind, the air felt heavier, denser, as if the trees were holding their breath. The warm magic that had surged through her only moments ago now pulsed with tension. Shadows seemed darker. Sounds echoed longer.
Something was awake.
She kept her fingers wrapped tightly around her moonstone pendant as she moved through the trees. Every crackle of a branch, every rustling leaf made her skin prickle. Her senses were sharper now—heightened. She could feel the currents of energy beneath her feet, like unseen rivers of power.
But she could also feel something else.
A disturbance.
A pull, faint but insistent, tugging her deeper into the forest.
She didn't know if it was the moon guiding her—or something else entirely.
After a long hour of walking, she reached a narrow ravine blanketed in silver moss and winding roots. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, and she felt drawn toward a cluster of stones at the edge. They were half-buried in earth, covered in vines, but unmistakably shaped—smaller than those in the circle, but carved with similar runes.
She knelt beside them and brushed the moss away. As her fingers traced the carvings, a low hum rose in the air.
The runes glowed faintly, reacting to her touch.
And then she heard it—a whisper.
Not from the wind, not from her thoughts. A whisper inside the stone.
"…Lyra…"
She jerked back. Her heart pounded. The whisper came again—soft, layered, like many voices speaking as one.
"…child of balance… bearer of the moon's gift…"
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The stone pulsed, and suddenly the world shifted again.
She was standing in a great hall carved from marble and glowing crystal. Moonlight poured through a ceiling open to the stars, and at the far end of the room, a council of figures sat upon high thrones. They shimmered with translucent light—spirits of those long gone.
One stood and descended the stairs.
He was tall and sharp-featured, cloaked in silver and indigo, with markings on his skin that glowed faintly.
"I am Thalen," he said, his voice like music and thunder. "Once guardian of the Lunar Order. You have awakened the Circle of Renewal. The Silver Moon's song has returned."
Lyra looked around in awe. "Where… where am I?"
"A memory," Thalen replied. "A piece of the past, bound to the stones you touched. We have waited a long time for one of the Silver Line to return."
She swallowed. "The magic is broken. I'm trying to restore it."
He nodded slowly. "You are not the first who tried. But you may be the last."
"What happened? What broke the magic?"
Thalen's expression darkened.
"There was a betrayal," he said. "The magic of Solara was once in harmony with the twin moons. But one grew jealous. It demanded power, control. The Crimson Moon reached for more than balance could bear—and it fell."
Images swirled around Lyra—great beasts made of smoke, wars that shook the sky, the stone circles crumbling, the land fractured.
"When the Crimson Moon shattered," Thalen continued, "its essence scattered across Solara. Some of it still lingers—in the deep places. The old magic recoiled, went to sleep. And the darkness… it waited."
Lyra's voice shook. "Is that what's following me now?"
"Yes," Thalen said grimly. "The Circle of Renewal woke not just your power—it woke theirs. They are drawn to the moon's song. You must be careful."
"Why me? Why now?"
"Because you are the last of the Healer's blood. The moon chose you not just to restore the circle—but to restore the balance. You must awaken the remaining circles. Without them, Solara will fall to shadow."
"How many are there?"
"Three more. Each one hidden. Each one guarded."
Lyra's hands clenched. "Then I'll find them."
Thalen looked at her with eyes full of both sorrow and hope. "Then take this with you."
He reached into the air, and a small orb of moonlight formed in his palm. It drifted toward her, entering her chest like a breath.
"Let it guide you."
The vision faded.
Lyra awoke with a gasp beside the stone. The runes were still glowing faintly, and her chest burned where the light had entered. She felt... stronger. Not just physically, but magically. A deeper connection had formed.
She stood, the forest now clearer. She could feel the direction of the next circle, like a string tied to her soul.
But the moment she took a step—
A low growl echoed behind her.
She spun around.
A creature emerged from the shadows. Its body was sinewy and black, like it had been sculpted from smoke and bone. Its eyes burned red. Its movements were silent and fluid, as if it had no weight.
One of the remnants of the Crimson Moon.
It stepped closer.
Lyra raised her hand, calling on the moonlight in her chest. Her pendant flared, and a beam of silver energy erupted from her palm, lighting up the forest.
The creature hissed and shrieked, recoiling as if burned. Then it vanished—dispersed into shadow.
She fell to her knees, breathing hard.
That had been close.
Too close.
And it wouldn't be the last.