The moment the distortion answered her, the world did not shatter but folded inward with a slow and suffocating pull, dragging Elara's awareness away from the courtyard and everything that grounded her.
The cold that touched her was not of wind or night, but something older and deeper, slipping beneath her skin and settling into her bones as though it had always belonged there.
Her breath faltered while her body remained standing, her senses drifting elsewhere, her fingers twitching faintly as if reaching for something already lost beyond her grasp.
Around her, the others noticed instantly, the stillness in her posture, the unfocused depth in her eyes, the quiet shift that spoke of something far more dangerous than distraction.
"…Elara," Alessandro said, his voice low and steady, his hand hovering near her arm, close enough to ground her yet not touching, not daring to break whatever held her.
