03:42 a.m. – Rossi Mansion

  The clock read the same hour.

  The house slept in complete silence, barely disturbed by the wind gently brushing against the windows.

  In a room in the east wing, Dahlia opened her eyes.

  But she wasn't awake.

  Her body rose with unnatural calm, without hesitation, without doubt. Her eyes were fixed, gleaming. As if responding to a voice not of this world.

  She stood, barefoot. She didn't turn on the light. She didn't grab a coat. She simply walked.

  And with each step she took... the world changed.

  The Forest

  Suddenly, the mansion vanished.

  Dahlia was no longer within walls, but on a hidden path between tall trees, covered in moss and wrapped in mist.

  She didn't seem surprised. Nor afraid.

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  The forest seemed to know her.

  The branches pulled away as she passed.

  The roots pulsed beneath her feet.

  She continued forward in silence, her hair floating gently on a breeze that came from nowhere.

  And then, at the end of the path... she saw it.

  The dome.

  The roots of an ancient tree had intertwined, forming a natural, almost sacred structure. At the center of that dome, suspended by one of the roots... hung the necklace.

  Black, with silver details. A miniature raven rested at its center, wings folded and eyes that seemed to see everything.

  Dahlia approached, unafraid.

  Without a word.

  Only knowing.

  She raised her hand and took it.

  The moment was silent, but resounding.

  The contact with the necklace released a muted energy. The roots glowed with a dark gleam. The dome seemed to breathe, as if it had been waiting for her to return.

  The raven lit up for a second with a silver-gray flash... and the necklace fastened itself around her neck.

  It was as if it had always been there. As if Dahlia wasn't whole without it.

  She closed her eyes. And within, the silence became power.

  The Moor – still in trance

  Dahlia stepped out of the forest slowly. The mist parted as she moved. The dome was left behind, dissolving into shadows as if it had existed only for that single moment.

  Before her, an open moor stretched under a leaden sky. The wind was freezing, but her body didn't react. Her steps were firm, ethereal. Her face, serene. Untouchable.

  The necklace on her chest glowed with a faint light, like an old flame that never goes out.

  She was not alone.

  The shadows moved at the edges of the moor, not aggressive, but present. As if they recognized her.

  Dahlia walked among them, one with the world she had dreamed.

  Because now, like Kali, she had answered the call.

  And something inside her had awakened.