The air in Los Angeles on the eve of the full moon was charged with a terrible, silent energy. It wasn't just the tension of impending battle; it was the weight of multiple, desperate futures being forged in the dark, each one hoping to overwrite the others. The city was a pressure cooker, and the lid was about to blow.
In the warded depths of Luna Academy, the air hummed with a different kind of power. Seventeen children sat in a perfect circle in the library, their hands linked. Luna stood in the center, her small form the calm eye of the storm. Silver light, faint but steady, traced intricate patterns on the floor around them—the finalized design for the Great Healing.
"Remember," Luna's voice was clear, a bell tolling in the psychic space they shared. "We are a net. The pain comes in, and we spread it out. No one holds too much. Liam, Elara, the connection has to hold."
