They crossed the first dune. The wind cooled. The sky began to darken.
And then Lindarion stopped again, but this time not because of emotion.
He stopped because something was wrong.
Nysha sensed it immediately. "What is it?"
Lindarion lifted his hand slightly, fingers splayed, as though feeling invisible threads in the air. "Mana flow shifted."
Ashwing tensed. "Sh-shifted how?"
Lindarion didn't answer yet. He crouched, touching the sand. The grains trembled under his fingers.
Nysha drew her blade. "Is it an enemy?"
"No," Lindarion murmured. "A resonance."
He stood slowly, eyes narrowing toward the east. "The fragment in Suthrael Ridge… it just accelerated its activation."
Nysha's heart dropped. "Someone is forcing it open faster."
"Not someone," Lindarion said. "Something."
The air rippled—like heat, but colder. A pressure pressed against the back of their minds, subtle but unmistakable. A cosmic signature, faint yet immense.
