The explosion tore the sky apart.
The earth erupted in light so blinding that, for a fraction of a second, nothing existed but whiteness. The forest vanished. The echo of the blast rolled through the land like the howl of a fallen god.
Then came silence.
A cloud of dust hovered where the soil once was. A crater stretched for hundreds of meters, gaping and hollow. In its center, amid the ash and ruin, stood a single, strange shadow—unattached to any object, illogical, defying reality itself.
From that shadow, three figures emerged.
Veynessa was breathing heavily, cradling the limp body of Sylphia against her chest. Her eyelids trembled, and her gaze wandered without focus, as if for a moment, she had forgotten where she was or what had happened. When her eyes fell upon the child in her arms, her pupils sharpened, and clarity returned. She exhaled with relief.
"Shadow..." she murmured, glancing toward her companion.
The figure of darkness nodded at her.
