Mark’s POV

Everything goes wrong at once.

The shadows spill across the ground like something alive. Not smoke. Not mist. They move with intent. They stretch, rise, and twist into shapes that should not exist.

Rissa stands at the center of it.

Power is pouring out of her.

I feel it in my bones.

I feel it in the way the air bends around her, like the world itself is struggling to hold shape.

“Rissa,” I call.

She does not answer.

Her eyes are not on me. They are fixed somewhere beyond this ...