The silence did not break.
It deepened.
It spread like rot beneath the surface of something once sacred—unseen at first, but inevitable, devouring, patient.
Aria had not slept.
She stood at the center of the sacred chamber, barefoot on cold stone etched with ancient lunar sigils that had once pulsed with divine energy. Now they lay dim and lifeless beneath her feet, like bones drained of marrow.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
“Again,” she whispered to herself.
Her hands trembled as she lifted them slowly, palms facing upward.
She closed her eyes.
Reached inward.
Past the fear.
Past the doubt.
Past the screaming void that had replaced what was once a divine presence.
Find her.
Her breathing slowed as she forced herself into stillness.
The way she had done countless times b
