Lythandar spread wide and breathed around them.
Not a metaphor. The city literally breathed as air moved through living tunnels, branches shifted to admit sunlight, roots pulsed with slow rhythm beneath their feet. Trees thousands of years old had been shaped into homes, halls, walkways, all connected in an organic architecture like it was alive and aware.
Thaelan led them through winding passages without speaking. His silence wasn't hostile, more like assessment. He watched them from the corner of his eye, cataloging responses, measuring threat levels.
Leah matched his silence. Her lion-folk instincts recognized his, both predators evaluating each other.
They emerged into a vast circular space. The heart-tree of Lythandar. Its trunk alone was wider than most buildings. Branches spread above to form a natural ceiling hundreds of feet high. Light filtered through leaves in patterns that seemed deliberate.
