The morning light was pale, almost silver, as it filtered through the curtains. Kristina yawned, rubbing her eyes, but I noticed a slight tremor in her hand as she reached for her sketchbook. My heart tightened. Something was stirring.
"Morning, Kris," she said softly, smiling. But the usual spark in her eyes seemed a little dimmer.
"Morning," I replied cautiously, keeping my gaze on her. "You okay?"
Kristina shrugged. "I think so… just… tired."
Grandma entered, her eyes sharp and calculating as always. "Your training intensifies today," she said, placing her hands on the table. "You will both need to focus. Shadows are stirring closer, and your bond will be tested more than ever. Kristina, control your energy; it's… delicate."
I frowned, feeling the weight of her words. "Delicate? What do you mean?"
Grandma's voice softened, but the warning was clear. "A ripple has begun. A small tremor of a curse. You won't feel it fully yet, but it grows slowly. Kristopher… you must protect her."
Kristina looked up at me, concern flickering across her face. "Kris… what's happening?"
I forced a smile. "Nothing we can't handle. We'll train… and get stronger. Together."
The basement had been prepared for a new level of training. Glowing symbols formed circles and lines across the floor, shimmering faintly with residual energy from our last encounter. Grandma instructed us to pair up: Kristina's constructs would combine with my commands to create more complex structures and weapons.
Kristina's pencil twitched as she drew a creature—a tiny phoenix with flickering flames that danced above the paper. It hovered uncertainly, then began flapping, scattering light around the room.
"Good," Grandma nodded. "But focus, Kristina. Energy is delicate. Too much or too little will harm the construct… and you."
I concentrated, imagining a protective cage around the phoenix, stabilizing it. The bird flared, shining brighter, and I felt the faint pulse of something dark brushing against the edges of the room—almost like a whisper.
Kristina shivered slightly. "Did… did you feel that?"
"Yeah," I said, my voice low. "Something's… close."
The Familiar squeaked nervously, hopping from table to shelf. "Shadows… I smell shadows!" it cried.
I sighed. "Here we go again…"
A sudden distortion appeared in the corner of the room. A shadow, humanoid but with eyes like molten red coals, formed slowly. It spoke in a voice like grinding stones:
"You are Bouie children. Step aside… or face Malachor's will."
Kristina's hand trembled, but she squared her shoulders and held her pencil tightly. "We won't let you pass."
I raised my hands, summoning chains of energy. Kristina drew barriers, and together, we combined our powers to hold the shadow at bay.
Grandma and Mom watched silently, guiding us subtly with their presence, their hands poised to intervene if needed.
The shadow tested us, moving with a speed I hadn't yet learned to counter. But Kristina's constructs held strong, flaring with silver light, while my chains tightened around it.
Finally, the shadow dissolved into black mist, leaving behind faint residual energy that tingled on the skin.
"You are improving," Grandma said, her tone calm. "But do not underestimate them. Malachor's scouts grow stronger with every encounter. And the ripple… the curse… is beginning its work."
After the battle, Kristina slumped beside me, her breathing shallow. "Kris… I feel… funny."
I held her hand. "It's okay. We'll rest for a bit. Just breathe."
Grandma knelt beside her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's subtle now, but it will grow. Kristopher… be vigilant. Protect her. And never let go of your bond. That is your shield."
I nodded, squeezing Kristina's hand. "I won't. I promise."
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. The shadows of Malachor's Tier-Two army were moving closer, preparing, testing, probing. The battle was no longer just a game of imagination—it was reality, and the Bouie siblings were now on the front lines.
Kristina leaned against me, her small form warm and trusting. "We can do this, right?"
"Yes," I whispered back. "Together, always."
Far away, in his dark tower, Malachor's voice echoed through the cold air
"The girl trembles… but the boy… he is the real storm. Let the ripple grow. Soon, they will learn the true meaning of fear."