Third Person P.O.V.
The clearing behind Bella's house glowed in an ethereal silver hue, kissed gently by the shy moonlight peeking through the slits of dissipating clouds. Shadows danced along the grass like whispers of forgotten spirits, and the air itself shimmered as though nature held its breath. It was a sacred silence, the kind that only graced moments when destiny prepared to alter its course.
Claire stood at the edge of the glowing circle, her feet bare, her long silver-stitched robe fluttering in the faint breeze. Her hands hovered in the air, fingers arched in ritualistic precision as she chanted in a low, rhythmic murmur. Salt and ash lay scattered around her in ancient sigils, glowing faintly with the energy of the moon goddess. Her eyes, usually calm pools of blue, now flick
