Chapter 4 Page 4

The rain didn't fall like it did in stories. It was quiet, hesitant-as if it had forgotten how.

Elian stood still, letting the drop slide down his skin. His breath caught in his throat. The air smelled... alive. Like wet stone and old pine and something older still-like the pages of a book that hadn't been opened in centuries.

Then the window widened-not physically, but perceptually-as if the world beyond it had deepened. The rooftop across from his attic dissolved, replaced by mist and sky. A stepping stone path appeared, stretching out into the clouds.

Without thinking, Elian stepped onto it.

Each footfall echoed like droplets on wood. He passed floating lanterns, each containing a small flame shaped like a teardrop. Strange vines curled in the mist, whispering names he didn't understand. He could feel the pressure in the air shifting, as if the laws of gravity were suspended by reverence.

At the end of the path stood a woman.

She wore a cloak made of fog and feathers, her hair braided with lightning threads. Her eyes shimmered with clouds.

"You heard the thirteenth chime," she said.

Elian nodded.

"You remember."

"Yes."

"Then you are one of us now in this."