The crisp morning air lingered in the meadow as Nicole stood at the edge of the forest, her gaze focused on the distant mountains. She could feel the energy of the land pulsing beneath her feet—a rhythm both familiar and foreign, a mixture of light and darkness that mirrored her own internal struggle. Chatan's presence broke the quiet as he approached with measured steps, his long braid swinging lightly against his back.
"You look lost in thought," Chatan said, his voice steady and warm, yet probing. He adjusted the leather strap across his chest, the feathers of his ceremonial adornments swaying with each movement.
Nicole turned to him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose I am. It's… this power inside me. I thought I understood it, but the more I try to control it, the less I feel like it's truly mine."
