Luminara - Chapter Eleven: The Wound Between Them - Wattpad

Luminara

by NaturesQueen_

Luminara

Table of contents

YOU ARE READING

Luminara

Fantasy

They say the gods saved the world.
They lied.
Now the dead are speaking through forbidden bells, empires are bleeding secrets, and a forgotten force beneath reality is beginning to remember itself.
Zafira Kain was never meant to hear the truth.
But...

# ancient# dark# fairycore# fictional# mythical# whimsical


The bells of the Hollow rang before Zafira reached the gate.

Not all at once.

One began high in the eastern trees, a cracked little note that trembled through rain and leaves. Another answered from somewhere beneath the roots. Then another. Then five. Then twenty. The sound moved through the forest like news traveling faster than feet.

Zafira stopped beneath the arch of living branches and lifted her head.

The path ahead glowed faintly.

It was not stone, not exactly. Pale roots had risen from the wet earth, knotting themselves into steps that led between the trees. Tiny bells hung from them, each one turning toward her as she passed. Some were bronze. Some were clay. Some were bone. Some were shaped like small hands curled around silence.

Tamsin Osei stood beside her, rain beading along her indigo hood. The blue markings on her hands glowed softly, dimmer than they had at the sanctuary, but still awake. She looked exhausted in a way sleep would not cure.

Amara Vance stood slightly ahead of them with her curved blade loose in her hand. She had not sheathed it since they left the sanctuary. Rain darkened the leather armor across her shoulders and ran down the side of her face, but she did not blink it away. She watched the glowing path as if daring it to betray them.

In Zafira's arms, Ilyan stirred.

The little girl had slept through most of the journey, her face pressed against Zafira's shoulder, one small hand curled into the fabric of her robe. Now her eyes opened.

"They know you," Ilyan whispered.

Zafira looked down at her. "Who?"

The child pointed toward the bells.

"The names."

Malo stood behind them with the remaining survivors who had chosen to flee the sanctuary. Only fourteen had come. The number sat in Zafira's chest like a stone. Fourteen out of what had once been an entire village. Fourteen who had trusted the dark forest more than the Dominion's white wagons.

She did not know whether that made them brave or desperate.

Perhaps desperation was only bravery with fewer songs written about it.

Tamsin touched one of the hanging bells without ringing it. "This place is old."

Amara snorted softly. "Everything is old lately."

"No," Tamsin said. "This is older than fear."

Zafira tightened her grip on the cracked death bell tied against her wrist.

The bell had grown warmer with every step west.

At first she thought it was the wound in her palm. Then she realized the bell was answering something ahead of them. Something that pulled grief through the trees as surely as smoke through air.

The Echo.

The woman with the road on her boots.

The heart.

Zafira began walking again.

The path opened.

The forest gave way to a valley hidden beneath a canopy of branches so vast it seemed the sky itself had been replaced by roots. Lanterns glowed in colors Zafira had not seen since childhood festivals. Amber, green, blue, red, and violet light swung from bridges made of living wood. Homes had been carved into roots large enough to hold families. Narrow walkways climbed around the trunk of an enormous tree at the center of the valley, and from every branch hung bells, cords, shells, beads, cloth, and plates etched with names.