The Nexo de los Mil Hilos trembled, threads of golden light snapping and unraveling as the presence of the Witch of Envy grew heavier, darker, more oppressive. Her spectral form, a twisted amalgamation of shadow and bone, hovered inches above the shimmering ground. Her emerald eyes blazed with an intensity that made the air crackle with energy. Her tattered cloak of black silk billowed, despite the stillness of the void around them.
Caroline stumbled back as the pull in her chest became unbearable, as if invisible chains were wrapped around her ribs, yanking her toward the sphere and the looming figure of the Witch. The voice in her mind was no longer a whisper—it was a roar, crashing against her thoughts like a tidal wave.
"This is our end, little vessel. Stop fighting. Stop pretending
