The desert didn't breathe. Not anymore.
At the heart of Uluru, where red stone met sky, Luna stood barefoot on the ancient star—no longer a child in a white shift, but something else. Something woven from silence and starlight. Her silver-white hair lifted in a wind that didn't touch the sand. Her eyes, one violet and one swirling with galaxies, stared into the unraveling core of reality.
Around her, the world held its breath.
Aria knelt just outside the ritual circle, palms flat on the warm rock. She could feel it—the pulse of the Weave, frantic and fraying, like a spider's web caught in a storm. Every thread Luna pulled taut sent a jolt through Aria's bones. Her Moonlight Bloodline answered instinctively, silver threads curling around her daughter like protective vines. But she knew better than to interfere. This wasn't her fight. It was Luna's song.
