CHAPTER EIGHT: PULSE AWAKENS (Part three)
The wind moved again—
not loud,
but deliberate.
It stirred the petals that hung like old echoes from the Heartbloom branches,
pulling them into slow spirals
as if the tree was breathing deeper now.
Zephryn lowered his hand.
Where his palm had touched the bark—
a symbol shimmered faintly.
Not carved.
Not drawn.
Grown.
Selka stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
She didn't ask to touch it.
She just reached her hand forward,
mirroring his path,
her fingertips brushing the edge of the glowing mark.
And the glyph responded.
Not brighter.
Not louder.
Wider.
A second arc opened beside the first.
Two spirals.
One for him.
One for her.
Neither spoke.
The hum thickened—subtle, heavy, like a memory pressing itself through skin.
Zephryn looked up at the branches.
They weren't just glowing now.
They were listening.
The glyphs curled along the limbs.
Soft sigils etched in bark pulsed once, then faded, as if in approval.
Selka's voice came low.
"Did she ever bring you here?"
Zephryn's jaw tightened.
"No."
Pause.
"But I remember her standing at the edge… watching it."
Selka didn't nod.
Didn't speak again.
She just moved beside him.
And they stood—
not speaking,
not breaking the glyph's rhythm—
just being seen
by something older than the Lyceum itself.