The portal shimmered like a tear in the fabric of the world—an arched doorway of light carved from moonstone and raw magic. Wind howled around it, not from the earth but from the very essence of the spirit realm pulling at the edges of reality.

Aria stood before it, her long silver hair whipping around her shoulders, her eyes glowing faintly with the remnants of her storm-born grief. Behind her, Rowan approached with slow, deliberate steps, his jaw tense.

“You don’t have to do this,” ...