The Gathering of Storm
The morning air was heavy, too still for dawn. Even the birds had gone silent.
I stood on the ridge overlooking the valley, the forest below shrouded in a faint red haze. The trees themselves seemed to breathe uneasily. Whatever Mona had done, it wasn’t just magic — it was infection.
Lucien joined me wordlessly. He didn’t need to speak; I could feel the pressure of his power beside me, dark and restrained, like a storm waiting for permission to break.
“You feel it too,” I said quietly.
His eyes, black as obsidian, scanned the valley. “It’s spreading faster than I thought. She’s torn through the border of my realm — her power bleeds into both worlds now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, voice low, “the balance between shadow and light is failing. So
