Anastasia’s sun-like light had dimmed, its brilliance fading into a quiet glow. She descended slowly, like a feather on the wind, her feet kissing the earth with reverence. Then, with a calmness that unsettled the shadows around her, she stepped forward—closer to the dark witches.
They drew back, a flicker of fear in their eyes. Something about her unsettled them. One witch, her voice edged with both awe and revulsion, whispered, “What kind of monster are you? What… are you?”
Before breath could fill the silence, the lead witch raised her hand, and with a surge of magic, hurled Anastasia backward.
But this time, she did not fall.
She did not crash.
She floated—suspended mid-air, serene and untouchable, like a goddess above the storm. Then, as if gravity were hers to command, she desce
