The valley went still. Even Caelan looked impressed.
“Your foxfire’s gotten stronger,” he said.
Mingxi didn’t look away from Poppy. “I will burn the world before it touches her.”
Poppy blushed so hard she forgot to breathe for a moment.
Lirrane snorted. “You two are either going to save the valley or set it on fire by accident.”
“Both are possible,” Caelan admitted.
With the distortion cleared, they continued downward. The air grew colder. The light dimmer. The dirt beneath their feet shifted from brown to pale gray. Poppy stumbled as another tug hit her chest—this one harder, almost desperate.
She gasped. “It’s calling again.”
Mingxi steadied her in a heartbeat. “The moonwell?”
“No.” Her voice trembled. “The shard. It’s trying to drown out the moonwell’s voice.”
Another tug—this time softer, faint, like a dying heartbeat tapping against her ribs.
“Help.”
Poppy’s breath stuttered. “That’s the moonwell,” she whispered. “It’s so… tired.”
They reached the last slope.
Chapter 105
The basin stretched open before them, a vast circular hollow in the earth. At its center, where once had been a glowing pool of silver-blue light, there was only a dim, trembling reflection.
The moonwell looked wrong. Darker. Shallower. Its surface broken by thin cracks of black-blue shadow, like veins spreading through a dying star, reminiscent of the veins that had been on Lysandra’s face. Even the air above it shimmered weakly, as if light itself avoided touching the pool.
Poppy’s knees buckled.
Mingxi caught her instantly. “Poppy!”
She clutched his sleeve. “It’s worse… so much worse than I saw in the dream.”
Caelan and Lirrane stared at the moonwell as though looking at a wounded god.
Lirrane whispered, “It is dying.”
“No,” Mingxi said fiercely. “We won’t let it.”
The moonwell pulsed again—feeble, faint.
Poppy whispered back, “We’re here.”
The pool flickered weakly as if it heard her.
Mingxi guided Poppy down the last slope. They took each step slow, careful, as if the very ground might shift under her feet. The wind died completely as they neared the edge of the basin. Even the forest sounds—the ravens, the distant insects, the rustling branches—fell silent.
It felt like the world was holding its breath.
The moonwell, once brilliant and alive, looked like a cracked mirror sunk into the earth. Its surface glimmered faintly, but not with light—more like the last ember of a candle fighting not to go out. Thin lines of shadow webbed across the water, trembling with every pulse.
Poppy crouched, knees shaking. She reached out a trembling hand toward the surface, but Mingxi caught her wrist.
