The air in Overa was heavy with a newfound sense of magic and dread. With Mother Elara gone, her final moments witnessed only by Mother Cora, High Priestess Rozia, Tiya, Meme, and Ivy, the balance had shifted. A raw, uncontrollable power had begun to manifest across the entire community. It was as though the ancient magic of their ancestors, the descendants of the Goddesses themselves, was waking up, unpredictable and dangerous.
Tiya stood in the temple courtyard, looking out at the horizon, her thoughts a jumble of fear and responsibility. The weight of what had just happened—the power unleashed, the shifting dynamics of their fragile community—was pressing down on her. She turned and saw Mother Cora and Mother Rozia quietly talking, their faces drawn with concern.
“This power,” Cora said, her voice low, “is more dangerous than we anticipated. Our people aren’t ready for this. Overa was meant to be a safe haven, but now it risks becoming a battlefield.”