Phantom Hollow To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

Hunst had been prowling the edges, his mind still half on Reverie when the scent hit him—a trace of salt and familiarity. He stiffened, instinct taking over as he inhaled again, confirming what he thought he knew. Sea-snake. A ghost from his past, a reminder of tides and treacherous waters, of the old world they had once known together.

Moving silently, he cut through the trees, his powerful frame slipping into the shadows as he stalked toward her. And there she was, unmistakable and yet changed—Alara, with that same fierce presence, only sharpened. He emerged from the cover of darkness like a revenant, stopping just short of her, his voice a low murmur, barely more than a breath.

Alara?

It was both question and confirmation. He took her in, noting the strength she carried now, the weight of years etched across her gaze. His own eyes betrayed a flicker of something almost like relief, though it was tempered with caution.

A Sea-Snake this far from the waves, he muttered, his tone edged with reverence. What’s brought you to this shore, cousin?