Thunder cracked across the skies as Selena and Dante emerged from the collapsing temple, the scent of scorched stone clinging to their clothes. The air still vibrated with the lingering echoes of ancient magic, and the weight of what they'd unleashed—or bound—settled heavily on their shoulders.
Selena's steps faltered. She leaned against Dante, her body trembling from the aftershock of channeling the Core's energy. The glyphs burned faintly on her skin, etched like molten tattoos from a forgotten language.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dante asked, voice low but urgent.
"I don't know," she admitted, wincing. "It still feels like it's inside me. Waiting."
He placed a hand on her cheek. "You held it back. That counts for something."
"But at what cost?" she whispered. "What if I'm no better than Lorenzo?"
Dante shook his head. "You're nothing like him. He gave himself to the darkness. You resisted it."
