The River of Reflection

The air grew heavy, not with the damp chill of the shadowed woods they had traversed, but with a peculiar stillness that seemed to absorb all sound. Elara, her boots sinking slightly into the mossy earth, felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine. Beside her, Lyra, usually a whirlwind of giggles and flitting movements, was unusually subdued, her iridescent wings folded tightly against her back. Even the vibrant colours of the forest seemed muted, as if a veil had been drawn over the world.

"It feels… quiet," Elara whispered, her voice barely disturbing the dense atmosphere.

Lyra nudged her arm with a tiny, jewel-like hand. "Quiet, yes, but not empty. There’s a hum, Elara. A deep, slow hum, like a sleeping giant’s breath."