It began with a stone.Not Ancient, Not Marked, Just there, Half buried in the cold sand, glowing faintly like it knew it had been seen.Rochelle wasn8217t looking for anything. She was walking to clear her head, the way you do when life gets too loud. A wind-swept beach. A stretch of grey sky. The silence made you feel both small and alive. That8217s all she wanted.Then the StoneWarm to the touch, like I had a pulse. Gold veining through it, alive in a way rock shouldn8217t be.She picked it up, and the world moved, Shifted, unlatched.And just like that, Rochelle wasn8217t in Normandie anymore.
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