The Gift of Time
The horizon shimmered with a faint glow, the remnants of the day's light filtering through the ethereal mists that clung to the new world like a veil. The fractured realm they now found themselves in was both beautiful and unsettling—a place where time bent and stretched, a landscape that was neither fully Earth nor fully supernatural. It was a living, breathing paradox, shaped by the consequences of their choices and the sacrifices they had made.
Seraphyne stood at the edge of a clearing, gazing out over the landscape. The sky was streaked with colors that defied description—tints of gold and violet, mixed with the iridescent blues of a twilight that didn't quite belong to either world. Everything here felt suspended in motion, like a dream that had been half-remembered but never fully realized.