"Don't you dare use your luck," Avery snapped as thunder braided itself into a crown above the Altar.
"You always sound like a librarian who swallowed a thunderbolt," Valentina said, smile slow and dangerous. "Relax. This is a public performance. I won't embarrass you."
"Public humiliation is not my concern," the green fur puffed, voice sharper than its size. "Your concern is surviving without stolen fortune."
Landon Bradley stepped forward, palms flat on his robe. "Elders, begin the chant." His voice held the calm of someone who had taught calm for decades and kept secrets in the gaps between words.
Elder Gao's hands moved in the prescribed patterns. "By Clearwood's roots, by the mountain's vow..." The chant rose and fell like tide.
Annika Cox hovered near the edge, chin high. "I heard rumors," she said. "They say she brought down a war temple with a single gesture."
"You heard right," Valentina answered. "It fell apart because I wanted new curtains." Her grin was a blade. "Isn't that charming?"
Hans Serra snorted. "In this body, you can't fool anyone. Show us the trick. Or keep quiet."
Valentina looked at him as if he had asked whether rain could be wet. "I'm not here to entertain bullies." She let the words sit. The elders tightened their hands.
Three brief sentences, plain and precise: Fortune is a measurable resource that accelerates destiny. Fortunes can be stolen and stacked. The arbiter binds thieves to return what
