Sasha’s POV
Power no longer scared me.
It stirred beneath my skin now, not as a storm begging to break free, but as something older. Something elemental. It curled through my bones like molten silk, warm and waiting, always listening. It didn’t roar anymore. It watched. And with each breath I took in the mist-thick air of Emberhollow, I no longer bore power like a curse.
I was powerful.
Emberhollow wasn’t just a village—it was a dream half-remembered. A place the world had forgotten to ruin. Nestled deep in a green-blanketed valley, the entire village seemed to exhale quiet magic. The air was always damp with rain or memory, and the mist never left—it lingered in the hollows like something sacred, winding between weathered trees and chimney smoke like a veil.
The cobblestone paths did
