Aria's breath caught in her throat. The whisper that had once sounded like a distant echo now pulsed inside her chest—urgent, relentless, impossible to ignore.
Around her, the courtyard fell into chaos. The disciples obeyed Mother Serena's command and retreated, yet their eyes lingered on Aria with fear and uncertainty.
She stood alone, her hands trembling as if drawn by an unseen force. The choice before her was no longer abstract; it was alive, breathing, clawing at her very soul.
"Flee, and you may live as a shadow," the voice murmured, colder now. "Stand, and you will awaken what has long been bound."
Aria closed her eyes, heart hammering. Somewhere deep within, a memory stirred—half-forgotten, yet painfully familiar. A bond sealed in blood. A promise whispered beneath the stars.
When she opened her eyes again, determination replaced her fear.
Her voice was steady as she whispered back into the void:
"I will not run."
And with that choice, the air around her shifted. The courtyard grew heavy, the ground trembling as though the earth itself recognized her vow.
And with that choice, the air around her shifted. The courtyard grew heavy, as if the very walls were holding their breath. The ground beneath her feet trembled, a subtle but undeniable quiver, as though the earth itself recognized the weight of her vow. Shadows lengthened and twisted, curling like dark smoke around the edges of the stone, and a distant whisper, almost inaudible, seemed to answer her silent promise. Every heartbeat echoed in the charged stillness, marking the moment when destiny had begun to turn its eyes toward her.