The trio traveled through forests where ancient trees whispered secrets older than time itself. Villages greeted them with wary eyes; the scars of the past lingered in stories told by elders and the silence of younger generations.
In a quiet hamlet nestled by the river, they met Aelin, a healer whose lineage traced back to the first victims of the curse. Her hands moved with gentle certainty, yet her eyes carried the weight of loss.
"You seek to mend what was broken?" she asked, voice soft but steady.
Lysara nodded. "The curse persists because we have forgotten. Only by remembering and forgiving can we break its hold."
Aelin's gaze drifted toward the distant hills, where shadows still clung to the earth. "Then we must light a fire of remembrance, one that burns through the darkness and warms the coldest hearts."
As night fell, they gathered around a fire, sharing stories and songs long silenced. The flames flickered, and for a moment, the air felt lighter—as if the land itself began to breathe again.
But far beyond, unseen eyes watched their progress, and the Veil stirred, gathering strength from the approaching storm.