The wind howled, a wounded beast over the ruined valley. Dust, like silver ghosts, spiraled under the twin moons. And there he was, Ren, still, so still, like time itself had forgotten him.
His eyes, usually so calm, so sharp... now, they shimmered gold. With every beat of his heart, tiny cracks spiderwebbed the ground around his boots. Energy, wild and raw, leaking out of him like he was a broken thing.
Lyra watched, a few steps back, barely breathing. The air around him shimmered, distorted, like it was struggling to hold what he was becoming.
"Ren," she said, softly at first. Her voice, the only warmth in that biting wind. "You're losing it."
He didn't answer, not really.
For a second, she thought she saw him blink, like he recognized her, maybe? But then, the gold in his eyes flar
