The days in the realm of ash blurred together. Selena and Dante walked the gray shores, trying to understand what they were dealing with, trying to formulate some plan for weaving structure without oppression. But as they moved through the half-dead landscape, Selena began to notice something wrong with her flames.
At first, it was subtle—a flicker that lasted a moment too long, a hesitation before the fire responded to her will. She dismissed it as exhaustion, as the strain of existing in this liminal space where reality struggled to maintain coherence. But over time, the problem worsened.
