The sky burned in her dreams.
Not like before—when the world screamed with fire and her power clawed at her veins—but in silence. Stillness. Like an echo from a time she did not live through, yet knew by heart.
It was not fire meant to destroy. It was reverence. Mourning. Gold smoke curled through a sky painted with deep reds and twilight purples, the colors blending like ink spilled across parchment. There was no heat. Only the hush of something ancient remembering itself.
Rose stood in a place that had never existed in her memory. A silver river, now still as glass. Trees made of bone and crystal, their branches swaying though no wind passed. The ruined cave before her looked half-swallowed by time, cracked with ivy and sorrow. Once, she knew, it had smelled of lavender and ash. The s
