Vel Quen struggled to wake for more than a century.
And now the spiral was finally ready.
Merry felt it in her bones.
She knelt at the edge of a cracked glyph, breath misting in the suddenly too-cold air. Cadrel stood nearby, one hand on his weapon, the other trembling just slightly.
It wasn't fear from the outside, but fear of memory.
The city had shifted dramatically.
Doors that hadn't opened in decades were now ajar. Lanterns flickered with flames instead of illusions. They had gotten used to the lack of wind in Vel Quen. But now it whispered through alleys like a hoarse voice.
The buildings, which once looked like they grew out of the ground, came alive. They creaked like they remembered how to breathe.
Like people walked across their floors again.
Something had changed below.
Merry pressed her palm to the ground. The soil was warmer than it should have been.
"…They've touched the core," she muttered.
Cadrel shifted uneasily. "The Oath-Tender?"
