As the sun dipped, casting a warm glow, the fading light hinted at change and reflection. The world held its breath on the edge of the unknown as each moment of light echoed the fleeting hope.
Twilight’s gentle touch, once nostalgic, now sent a shiver of dread. The surreal calm before an inevitable storm seemed to stretch every nerve to its limit, the rising tension threatening to shatter the fragile veil of composure. Eliza and her sister witches prepared for their incantation.
Eliza, hands shaking, looked at Amara. “I messed up before,” she said, “but together, we have a real shot.”
Amara squeezed her sister’s hand, her eyes filled with determination. “We’re all here for you, Eliza. And for Lila.”
The cloaked and united witches circled Eliza, their chant filling the air with power.
