The orchard was quiet after the storm of energy had passed. Apples lay scattered across the ground, leaves shivering softly in the wake of the power that had just surged through the courtyard. Liora stood among the wreckage, hands still trembling from the force she had summoned. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and yet, somewhere deep inside, a calm settled. This was no longer fear, no longer grief. It was something sharper, colder, and infinitely more precise: control.
Elira lay a short distance away, struggling to stand. Her body ached in ways that were both familiar and foreign, a burn that spoke of Liora's power, of the force she had unleashed, and the betrayal she had embodied. She had come prepared, trained, determined, but she had not anticipated this. Not her.
