Crown of Thorns: The Oath Beneath the Oak

Safe on the far side, they collapsed beneath the wide, sheltering arms of an ancient oak tree, its bark rough and wise, etched with years of storms and secrets. Fireflies drifted around them like tiny lanterns set free from some forgotten celebration, their soft light dancing in the gathering dusk, casting golden flecks on Rufio's mud-streaked fur and Rosy's trembling paws.

She opened her trembling paw. The moon shard had left a faint crescent mark burned into her pad—tender to the touch but unyielding, pulsing with the same silver light as the brooch. She turned the brooch over, fingers tracing its edges, and for the first time noticed delicate etched lines on its back: a map, intricate and glowing faintly under the fireflies' light, leading deep beneath the ruined abbey on the distant hill.