The air in the Sky-Mirror Spire had not yet settled from the tumultuous council. The faint, ozone-like scent of raw cosmic power still lingered, a testament to the unprecedented alliance Seraphina had just forged. The seven Reality Anchors, representatives from dragons, vampires, wolf clans, Fae, and humans, had departed to prepare for the ritual, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.
Seraphina stood by the crystalline window, her knuckles white as she gripped the sill. The weight of their desperate plan—the New Cosmic Accord—pressed down on her. Below, the city lights twinkled, ignorant of the fragile thread upon which all of reality now hung.
Damon was beside her, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. He didn't speak, simply placed a hand on the small of her back. The simple touch spoke volumes: I'm here. We're in this together.
It was then the light in the chamber changed.
