KAYLA POINT OF VIEW

The full moon hangs heavy in the sky. It was strangely brighter than usual.

Its silver light spills into the Sacred Clearing, washing everything in pale white. The air feels thick, charged, like the world itself is holding its breath.

I stand barefoot on the cold stone circle, my thin ceremonial dress brushing my ankles. The symbols carved into the ground glow faintly beneath my feet. They hum. I feel it in my bones.

Dante stands beside me.

Close enough that I can feel ...