The camp's fires spat embers into the 01:00 AM sky, October 24, 2085. Tobi sharpened his threads by the flames when Zara sat beside him, jasmine oil sharp in the smoky air.
"Stars burn your name into me," she said, voice like cracking glass. Her fingers traced Zarina runes on his palm cool, trembling.
He leaned in.
"What did they show?" "Pain."
She winced, nose bleeding sudden and hot. "Curse started gentle flashes of gates cracking. Now? Visions stab like iron thorns, stealing breath, vision blurring to black for hours."
Tobi wiped her blood, Crest flaring hot. "Why bear it?"
Her laugh bitter as harmattan dust. "Fate's price. I see you shattering gods, Africa breathing free... but me fading, threads binding my soul instead."
Gold flecks in her eyes ignited a vision hit. She gasped, body arching. "It's coming Starweavers, tonight!"