It begins in silence—the five of us: Fyre, Rowan, Mara, Fen, and me—standing in the wounded heart of the forest, encircled by scorched stones and the ghosts of old ruin. Fyre is gaunt, hair a dull tangle, her hands trembling, knuckles white as bone. The earth at our feet throbs with the Rupture’s sickness, raw and restless beneath the half-cleared sky. But beneath it, hope stirs, prickling and green, as old magic, starved for centuries, senses our intention.We join hands in the center of the clearing. Rowan’s palm is rough and grounding, Fen’s steady and warm, Mara’s grip fierce, Fyre’s quaking but determined. I squeeze tight. For a heartbeat the world narrows to this circle: us, the land, and what must be undone.Our magic flows out, first halting, then quickening—like coaxing a weak heartbeat back to life. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, rain, and pine. My lungs ache with every breath, but when the first rain comes, cold and clean, it soaks us through, washing soot from s
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2025-09-02
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