The golden light began to fade, retreating into faint glimmers that hovered briefly in the air before vanishing like embers carried away by the wind. The Nexo de los Mil Hilos, once an infinite expanse of vibrant light and shadow, now felt fragile, like a glass sculpture with deep cracks spreading across its surface. The hum of power that had once been omnipresent had grown faint, replaced by a distant, ominous rumble.
Caroline stood at the center of it all, her silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of the sphere behind her. Her hair drifted slightly, caught in an unfelt breeze, and her eyes—once soft and uncertain—now glowed with a steady, golden light. There was no fear in her expression, no hesitation, only a quiet calmness that felt ancient and unyielding.
She opened her mouth, an
