Fractured
Mirra lifted her hands, and the ember flared.
Her magic poured out—not to cleanse the corruption, not to fight every shadow, but to shield the life that endured. She wrapped the sapling in light, the resilient roots in flame, the secret mosses in strength.
The tendrils struck against her barrier and shrieked, recoiling.
She gritted her teeth, the effort searing her muscles. Sweat dripped down her temples, her arms trembled. But she held.
And in that fire, she felt them.
Ronan’s storm, fierce and relentless, bracing her spine. Selene’s silver light, fractured but unwavering, steadying her breath.
Sikat na Kabanata