"Some meetings are not chance; they are echoes of a promise whispered long before this life, where magic and longing find each other again."
An hour later, a feeling rose in me. It began with a ripple in the stillness. Not the clatter of boots or the hum of footsteps but something older, deeper. Magic, threaded into the air like starlight, pulled taut across the realm's bones.
I straightened from the watchtower window, breath catching as the magic brushed over my skin. It was no mere enchantment. It knew me, assessed, measured, and brushed against the walls of my defences with polite, unapologetic curiosity.
