A Ticking Clock: Soren
I watched the light return to her eyes, and for a heartbeat, it was more blinding than the silver leylines beneath us. One moment Penny had been a hollow shell, her gaze fixed on a horizon I couldn’t see, her hand limp as Vespera’s shadow-claws drifted toward her throat. The next, she was a storm. The air around her didn’t just shimmer; it fractured. That lavender glow, once so soft and hesitant, erupted with the force of a long-dormant volcano. "Penny!" I gasped, the word tasting like copper. I was still pinned. Vespera’s black glass shards were biting into my shoulders, holding me against the obsidian floor like a specimen on a board. I had watched in a helpless, red-misted fury as the Weaver leaned in to whisper her poison, but the woman who slammed back into her body wasn't the "lit
- Writer
