(Maria POV)
The temple pulsed like a heartbeat beneath Maria’s boots.
The Buried Ones surrounded her—no longer whispers in shadows, but flesh-bound horrors, remnants of ancient curses twisted into beast-like forms. Their skin was pale like death, their eyes vacant pools of memory and hatred.
Maria stood at the altar of the Last Temple, her blood staining the marble, her aura glowing with the lunar fire she had awakened in the First Luna’s realm. The power was unstable, wild, singing through her bones like music written by gods and monsters alike.
“The Luna does not kneel.”
The words were not hers—but they echoed from her soul, from every Luna who had bled and fought before her.
The Buried Ones charged.
Maria lifted her arms and roared.
The temple erupted in silver fire.
Each step
