From that day forward, Tabata was no longer a figure of whispered legend; she became a living bridge between the old ways and the new world. Children would gather at the foot of the altar to hear her stories, and the Moonstone, now a beacon of hope, stood as a reminder that even the darkest night can be illuminated by the courage of a true witch.
The Moonstone pulsed, then exploded in a cascade of silver fire that shot into the sky, forming a luminous arch over the forest. The —wraith‑like silhouettes that had begun to seep from the cracks in the seal—howled as they were drawn back into the void, their cries swallowed by the newly forged barrier.
The words struck her like a bolt of lightning. The seal—a protective barrier that had kept the —the wandering shadows that fed on fear—locked away in the deepest caverns beneath the forest, was weakening.