The siblings moved cautiously through shattered streets, ash drifting around them like a living mist. Each footfall sent fractured stones clattering, echoing eerily against ruined walls.

  Naela stumbled, a faint blue glow igniting along her arm and flickering wildly. She pressed her palm against her side, wincing.

  "Naela?!" Binyamin dropped beside her, scanning her glyphs — jagged, unstable, erratic. His own crimson patterns pulsed steadily, as if trying to calm her storm.

  "I’m okay… just… it’s happening again," she whispered, teeth clenched.

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  Binyamin placed his hand over hers. A warm pulse radiated from his glyph, threading through the air and syncing with hers. Red and blue lights intertwined, a fragile harmony forming between them.

  "Brother… what’s happening to us?" Naela’s voice trembled, half fear, half awe.

  "We’re changing. Both of us," Binyamin said, eyes scanning the ruins, jaw set.

  The ground shuddered beneath them. Whispers drifted faintly from the Ward, carried on the wind — warnings from a forgotten age.

  "We need to get out of here before something follows," Binyamin urged.

  Together, they rose, shadows stretching long in the fading light. The Shard seemed to hold its breath as they vanished into the fog-choked streets, leaving only their intertwined glow behind.