The night no longer felt like air but like pressure, thick and tightening around them as the space of the balcony became too small for what they carried, for what they had become, and Elara felt it then, not as fear, not as hesitation, but as something older, something buried deep within her bones that began to stir with quiet, rising force.
Sarah moved again.
Relentless.
Her body cutting forward with sharpened intent, her claws catching the faint light as she struck, faster than before, harder than before, as though each attack carried the weight of everything she had never said, never released.
Elara did not step back this time.
Her feet planted.
Firm.
Her shoulders lowering slightly as her breath deepened, her chest rising slower now, steadier, as something shifted within her, something that did not break but anchored.
