Ruined.

Never had a single word struck so deeply. The little white dame stood frozen, disbelieving. After everything they had endured… Her ears pinned back as Lestan gently guided her away from the water’s edge.

It can’t be ruined. This is our home, Lestan. I refuse.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the stream, its surface flowing calm and unchanged. How could it be ruined when everything looked the same? Nothing had happened. Right?

But doubt crept in, quiet and relentless. Had they caused this? Had their presence stained the land they loved?

No. She wouldn’t believe that. They had lived in harmony with the Rise—honoring its beauty, its ancient power. They belonged here, as much a part of the land as the sentry stones standing tall and silent.

Kirain shut her eyes, grounding herself in the moment, the dirt beneath her paws, the whisper of leaves overhead, the gentle press of life all around her. She inhaled deeply. The land felt wounded, violated. Not by them. Of that, she was sure. This pain came from elsewhere, an outside force.

A shiver of worry traced her spine. How far did it reach? What else had been touched by this taint?

She opened her eyes and turned to her mate.

How far do you think it’s spread? Her voice trembled with urgency. What should we do? We can’t stand idle. This isn’t just Druids’ Rise.