|Nieves|
Later that night, long after dinner had come and gone, I found myself alone in the training hall. The scent of sea salt lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy tang of aged wood. The space was quiet, lit only by the flickering glow of lanterns hung along the walls.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, my palms open and resting gently on my knees, trying to center myself—trying to focus on the breath, like she taught me.
Grand Aunt Callista had been guiding me in the art of channeling energy—the quiet, potent force that flowed through my veins. So far, my progress had been modest: I could coax a withered plant to life by sacrificing another, soothe small wounds, or snuff the life from something green with a single thought. It wasn’t much, not yet. But what truly unsettled me was
