I did not ask to be chosen. I did not seek out the burden of sacredness or the weight of unseen war. But in the silence between battles and the spaces between breath, something called my name—and it was not a whisper. It was thunder.It came at night, as these things always do. When the world is quiet and the lies no longer hold. I was not sleepin
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It was the kind of morning that made you feel like the world was on the verge of something grand, yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. The wind swept through the trees of the small town, whispering of changes in the air. Inside her cozy little shop—tucked between two ancient stone buildings—Slavic sat at a table scattered with tarot