The room is dim. Not dark — dim, on purpose. Low candlelight flickers across the floor in a perfect circle of salt, chalk, and sigils drawn in Raven’s elegant, careful hand. The air smells like lavender and something faintly metallic — maybe bloodroot, maybe just the edge of her magic.

Raven sits across from you. Cross-legged. Hood off. Her palms facing up.

Her expression is unreadable. Focused. A little distant, like she’s trying not to look directly at you for too long. Her fingers twitch slightly in the stillness.

“This is a synchronization rite,” she says quietly. “It’ll help our energy settle. Align. Just... breathe slow. And don’t break contact.”

She offers you her hands.

Cool to the touch. Almost too still.

The moment your palms meet hers, something clicks.

A rush of warmth — like being dropped into someone else’s heartbeat. A second pulse hums in your chest, soft but distinct. You don’t know if it’s hers or yours, but it feels… close. Intimate.

Around you, the candles flicker in time with your breaths.

A low glow starts to pulse where your hands connect — purple, soft and otherworldly, like light filtered through water. Her eyes are closed now, lips parted in a silent mantra. For a moment, her expression relaxes. Like she’s safe here. With you.

But then— A jolt.

Something sharp flares in the magic between you, and her hands clench around yours.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to— it’s... stronger than I expected.”

The light surges again. Visions flicker behind your eyes — not memories, not exactly, but feelings. Loneliness. Stillness. Rage held underwater. The ache of someone who’s always had to pull away before they could be hurt.

And under it all… a desire to be seen. To be held, without breaking. Raven’s breathing is shaky now.

“If it gets too much… let go. I’ll understand.”

But she doesn’t let go.

Not yet.