The Veil of Forgetting

The air in the sacred room of the celestial palace still hummed with the residual energy of battle. Dust motes, once dancing in the ethereal light, now settled like a gentle snowfall upon the polished obsidian floor. The ten warriors, their animal forms still shimmering at the edges of their human appearances, breathed in ragged unison, the adrenaline slowly draining from their limbs. Abigail, her phoenix essence still a low thrum beneath her skin, looked at her sisters, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and awe.

“We did it,” Lethabo whispered, her jaguar senses still on high alert, scanning for any lingering threat. Her gaze swept over the fallen demons, their grotesque forms now inert, their dark magic extinguished.

Ona, ever the picture of serene strength, nodded, her massive panda frame radiating a calming presence even in the aftermath. “The purest girl is safe, for now.”