The air behind Daniela grew colder, and the voice of the seventh still echoed—not in her ears, but deep in her chest, vibrating through old memories like a tuning fork struck against bone.
She stood frozen at the forest's edge, the ground damp beneath her boots, the weight of the encounter pressing down like invisible hands on her shoulders. She wanted to scream, to run, to tear at her own skin to erase the chill crawling up her spine.
But she didn't move.
Not even as the woods ahead sighed—yes, sighed—as if something vast and forgotten had just taken a long breath.
Then... she felt it.
The call.
Not spoken, not sung—but felt, like a hook digging gently into her ribcage, tugging her not backward, but inward. Inward into something unseen. A bond once buried under time and dust was now clawing its way to the surface.
