ALCYDE
Morning corruption spreads from the temple crater like gangrene through healthy tissue. Black vines writhe against Bertha's silver barrier, thorns scraping containment with sounds that set my teeth on edge. Sophia stands beside the old woman, both their hands glowing as power flows into what darkness keeps testing.
"The roots burrow deeper than bedrock." Bertha's weathered face shows the strain of holding the barrier through the night. "Like veins through stone, spreading poison. If we don't kill them at the source—not just contain but destroy completely—they'll break through within days."
Sophia's skin has gone pale beneath Georgia humidity that hangs thick as wet wool. The mate mark on her throat pulses silver with each surge of power she feeds into containment. Through our bon
