Chapter 3 Mark of Shadow

The woods didn't sleep.

They breathed - slow and heavy, as if the earth itself was exhaling memories - but never slept. Auren Vale followed Kael Ravaryn through the twisted grove beyond her old home, the dense fog curling like watchful tendrils around their legs. The moon, now a pale shard overhead, cast more shadows than light, and even those seemed to slither.

Her fingers itched with magic. Dormant, she had said. Contained. But now, the forest stirred that hum in her blood like a forgotten song. She could feel it pulsing beneath her skin, responding to every creak of branch, every snap of root. The Vale was alive in a way the outer world had never been.

Kael led without hesitation, ducking beneath a crooked branch and sliding between two moss-draped trees. He hadn't spoken since they'd left the clearing. But Auren didn't need him to. His silence said enough. He remembered. Just like she did.

They reached the ravine - a deep gash in the land, carved by an ancient river that had long since dried. A rotting rope bridge swayed between the banks, and Auren eyed it warily.

"You expect me to cross that?" she asked.

Kael glanced back. "It held last winter."

"How reassuring."

He stepped onto the bridge, testing the ropes. They groaned, but held. "Don't look down."

Auren rolled her eyes but followed, gripping the sides tightly. Halfway across, the wind picked up - not natural wind, but the kind summoned by old places and older things. The boards shuddered underfoot, and for a moment, she thought she saw something gliding beneath them, in the shadows below. A flicker. A glint of silver eyes. Gone.

When they reached the other side, the trees grew denser, clustered close like they were hiding something. Or guarding it.

"The Hollow's near," Kael said quietly. "We're safe there."

Safe. The word clanged against her ribs. It had always been an illusion in the Vale. Safety was something you bartered for, sacrificed for. And the Hollow... she remembered it only vaguely. Her mother had taken her there once, when she was small, to lay offerings beneath the Wyrm Tree - the oldest living thing in the forest.

Now it rose before them like a twisted crown of antlers - bark blackened, roots spread like veins across the earth. In its hollowed base sat a circle of runes, carved deep and glowing faintly. Wards. Old ones.

Kael stepped aside, letting her enter first.

As Auren crossed the boundary, she felt the shift - a thickening of the air, a pressure against her skin. The wards recognized her blood. Accepted it. She dropped to one knee, brushing her fingers across the moss-covered stones within the circle.

"They remember me."

"They should," Kael said. "You were born under this tree."

Auren looked up, startled.

"My mother never told me that."

"Did she tell you the tree sang the night you were born?" he added. "That it bled?"

"No," she said quietly.

Kael crouched beside her, his eyes catching the faint light from the runes. "The Circle feared you even then. Said the Hollow had chosen a vessel."

Auren's breath caught.

"Chosen for what?"

He didn't answer right away. "That's why they burned your mother, Auren. Not just for what she did - but for what she passed on."

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Honest.

Auren swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She reached for her satchel, pulling out the spellbook she'd taken from the cottage. She flipped through the pages until she found the pressed violet again.

"She left me pieces," she whispered. "But never the full story."

Kael studied her. "You want it?"

She met his gaze. "I need it."

His expression darkened. "Then you'll need to speak to the Wyrm."

Auren blinked. "The Wyrm's dead."

Kael shook his head slowly. "Not dead. Dormant. Like you."

She stared at him.

"You want to wake it?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I want to understand it. And I want to know why something followed me through the woods that wasn't wolf or man."

Kael's shoulders tensed. "Then you're not the only one returning to the Vale."

The implication settled over her like frost.

They sat in the Hollow until the sky bled pink on the horizon. Kael kept watch, his eyes never resting. Auren began to sketch runes into the dirt with a stick, memory guiding her hand. When the light grew strong enough, Kael stood.

"I have to report to the Circle."

"You're part of them now?"

"I have a seat. Doesn't mean I follow."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what will you tell them?"

"That I heard wolves howling. Nothing more."

She nodded. "And if they already know I'm here?"

"Then you'll need more than the Wyrm Tree to protect you."

Auren stood with him. "Let them come."

Kael smiled, but it wasn't kind. "They will."

He left without a farewell, his footsteps swallowed quickly by the forest. Auren remained, staring at the Wyrm Tree, feeling its pulse beneath her feet. It wanted something. She could feel it.

A wind stirred, carrying the scent of ash.

Then a voice - faint and foreign, like a whisper through water.

"Child of ember... child of root..."

Auren turned in place. "Who's there?"

The runes in the ground flickered.

"Return the blood that was taken."

Her hand instinctively moved to her chest - to the faint mark just over her heart, a scar she'd never been able to explain. It throbbed, like something beneath it was waking.

She backed away slowly from the tree.

"I'm not ready."

"You were born ready."

The voice dissolved, and the woods stilled once more.

That night, Auren didn't sleep. She sat cross-legged in the circle, spellbook open, and read until the words blurred.

By the next morning, word had spread.

A raven landed on a low branch above her, its feathers oil-slick black. Auren looked up, frowning.

"Took you long enough," she muttered.

The bird tilted its head, then cawed once. A piece of parchment fell from its leg. She retrieved it, breaking the seal.

Summons.

From the Circle.

Her blood ran cold.

"You never could let me rest, could you?" she whispered.

The raven took off with a harsh cry.

She packed what she could and stepped beyond the warded ring. The forest no longer greeted her with silence. It buzzed - with tension, with expectation. Something was watching. Something knew she'd heard the voice.

She made her way to the village, cloak drawn tight, heart hammering.

People turned as she passed.

Whispers rippled like waves.

"Is that her?"

"The Vale girl returned."

"The fire-blooded witch."

She kept her gaze straight ahead.

The Circle's house sat on the far edge of the village - black stone, heavy doors, and a sigil carved into the arch: a spiral of thorns. She remembered standing here when she was nine, holding her mother's hand. The last time she'd entered, she had exited orphaned.

Auren lifted the iron knocker and let it fall.

The door opened.

Inside stood a tall woman, dark robes flowing, silver hair braided down her back.

"Elowen," Auren said flatly.

"You remember," the woman replied. Her voice was soft, but carried weight. "That's good. Come."

Auren followed her down a corridor lined with runes that pulsed faintly. The Circle's chamber was just as she remembered - a wide, circular room with seven seats in a crescent. Only five were filled.

Kael stood near the center, hands behind his back.

She met his eyes briefly. He didn't smile.

The eldest of the Circle rose - a man with a long nose and a sharper tongue. Sorin Halvar. He had been her mother's greatest accuser.

"Auren Vale," he said. "You've returned."

"I didn't realize that was forbidden."

"It's not," Elowen said quickly. "Only... unexpected."

Kael cleared his throat. "She was alone. Caused no harm."

"Yet," Sorin snapped.

"I came for answers," Auren said firmly. "Not for war."

"And what answers do you seek?"

She stepped forward. "Why my mother died. Why you feared her. And why something ancient is stirring beneath the Wyrm Tree."

That silenced the room.

Sorin's eyes narrowed. "You heard it."

Auren nodded.

"You awakened it?"

"No," she said. "But it remembers me."

The Circle stirred uneasily.

Elowen's voice was quiet. "Then we have little time."

Auren raised her chin. "Time for what?"

"For the truth," Kael answered. "And for what comes next."

And in the silence that followed, the wind outside howled - not from a wolf, but something older.

Something coming home.