A few days earlier.
Right after Atlas had carried Celestia's trembling, ice-cold body back to the tent, he gently laid her down on the bed, adjusting the blanket to ensure she was properly covered.
Lyrassa was already there, tending to her with healing magic, while Luna and Atlas stood nearby, watching over her.
In that moment, the girl's trembling lips kept moving, whispering words carried on shallow, icy breaths.
"When the moon…"
Celestia's voice was fragile, barely audible.
Atlas immediately dropped to one knee beside the bed, leaning closer to catch her words.
"Celly? Are you okay?" he murmured.
But Celestia didn't answer him. Her eyes stayed shut, her body shivering, as if caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness.
"…is cleaved in half…" she continued.
Luna leaned in, her voice hushed. "She's reciting the vision she saw."
Atlas gave a sharp nod. He listened intently, every fragment of her trembling words slowly weaving together into something far heavier.
