It always did.
A younger version of herself wept over a stolen purse. A soldier she’d once failed to save stared at her with hollow eyes. Ludo’s voice echoed: “Your luck was never yours. It was borrowed. And now… it’s mine.” epic seven crac
Glasses shattered. The floor cracked. And from the fissure in the wooden planks, a thin, purple-black smoke curled upward. It smelled of ozone and old magic. It always did