Граємося)

Спробував перекласти один з розділів.

Muna cracked the door open.
Just a little. Quietly. Trying not to let the trembling in her hands betray her.

“Please,” she begged, whispering only with her lips, leaning closer to the gap.

The street—familiar for decades—had become a bizarre labyrinth. Black snow was everywhere. It seeped through walls and windows. No barrier could stop it. Only the faint magical patterns on the walls barely kept it out of the house. Muna could feel it gathering into damp puddles, sloshing beneath her palms and knees as she crawled toward the exit.

She held her breath and listened. Silence.
Only the strange crackling sound the dark snow made in response to her slightest movement. It tingled at her legs and hands. She felt it settling on her back and hair.

The protective sigils on the walls had already spent their charge—now flickering for a moment, only to fade again.

She tightened her grip on the personal protection amulet. Hugged it.
Then flinched when a bloodstained chair leg brushed her cheek. It took all her will not to toss the disgusting thing away. Her hand froze, trembling—like the drop of blood on her face.

She held her breath.

“Don’t move.”

The hand holding her improvised club pressed it back to her chest, smearing the drop into war paint. A trembling hand traced a magical weave—by memory, the way the old fool had taught.

Silence.

“If the magical spectrum vision worked… why not try?” Muna smiled faintly.

Strangely, the black snow didn’t block out the gray morning sky. Though it fell thick as a spring downpour, it still let the light in. Dark figures cloaked in black didn’t move. They looked like bizarre pillars hidden beneath the snowfall.

Silence.

Muna allowed herself to breathe again, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. She felt it on her skin—literally. The black sticky substance responded to every movement, every breath, every heartbeat. Even her hair seemed to tingle.

The fear was fading on its own, with each passing wave. With every weak glow beneath her clothing.

“The amulet will last only a few more minutes.”

She clutched the chair leg tighter, while her other hand gently pushed the door again. Muna knew what would happen. A high-pitched note would shatter the silence, and the nearby figures would stir.

But the door remained mute. It had creaked for over thirty years. Three times tonight.
But not now.

She ran her fingers over the slick wood and smiled.

“At least something's going my way.”

Muna opened the door a bit more. The heavy wooden barrier slid away without resistance, silently revealing more of the nightmarish cave her familiar street had become.

She took a deep breath and pushed again—harder. The door swung open too far. Too easily.

Her heart froze. She clenched her teeth, curling around the chair leg. Her other hand remained outstretched, still tracing the door she could no longer stop. The tips of her fingers, still feeling the wood, trembled uselessly.

The heavy anti-magic door slammed into the signboard for “Muna’s Weavings.” Old Otar used to say it drew more attention than the sign above the door. Then, in perfect unison, they performed a wild crescendo against the wall of her little shop.

Muna curled into a ball on the floor. The bloodied stick danced in her trembling hand, smearing the freshly drawn protective pattern, erasing the weave painted on her face.

Silence.

Muna opened her eyes. The morning gray seeped into the shop now that the barrier was gone. She could finally see those strange “snowflakes” beneath her.

Her heartbeat echoed through her skin. The black sticky snow turned transparent the moment it touched her, forming a clingy film.

The flakes quivered, responding to the rhythm of her breath. They fluffed up for a moment—then faded into barely visible specks, vanishing when looked at directly. Muna could only see them from the corner of her eye.

Silence.

Her breathing evened out. Her heartbeat slowed, and with it, the frequency of ripples on the floor. The sticky substance resonated with her every move, sound, thought.

“With every heartbeat,” Muna thought, as the tingling waves grew faster again.

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly and loudly. The surface responded with a dense wave that rippled outward.

She smiled like a girl who’d just received her first pebble from a boy at a spring festival. She repeated the experiment, adding a touch of will to her breath. The snow boiled—moaning in a high, bright tone.

“Two out of three!” Muna’s heart raced, wild thoughts stumbling to keep up.

She tried to rise to her shaking feet—but fell instantly. The snow responded to the splash of her fall with a fresh wave.

First rays of light crowned the mountain peaks above the homes near the plaza. Soon, the pale pink face of Sumana would rise over the heart of Shatal. Its beams already sparkled on the slick surfaces coating the city.

Where it wasn’t hidden beneath the fluffy black blanket. Its patches crawled through the streets, gathering around stalagmites rising at the intersections. The outlines of human figures, once cloaked in trembling darkness, no longer resembled anything human.

“Two out of three,” she whispered—and froze. The black cover buzzed in response, a wave of tingling echoing her words along her spine.

Muna drew a breath.

A high, thin whistle—barely audible. She strained her vocal cords, adding a faint tone and a drop of will to her breath. The “snow” sighed, answering with waves of heat.

Her breath caught. The note broke.

Silence.

The pink sparkles gifted by Sumana flashed violet against the walls of nearby buildings.

Muna got to her feet. She staggered as her hand slipped along the wall instead of gripping it. The slick mush beneath her feet sloshed, sending a tickling wave through her bare soles.

She smiled. Nervously brushed a black, sticky lock of hair from her face.

Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath, steadying her thoughts.

She had never seen anything like this. Only read, listened, recorded accounts. Everyone had heard legends of magical nodes—bursts that could unveil the universe’s secrets.

“I’ve got two signs out of three.”

Muna opened her eyes—and froze.

There was no need for more experiments, but she bent down, drawing a magical formula with an unsteady hand on the slick coating.

Touch, sound, shape. Every movement sent ripples outward.

A faint violet shimmer was born as Sumana’s rays kissed one of the tallest magical towers in the city center.

The black snow turned into flickering violet lights, trembling with every touch. She noticed one of the fluffy patches barely shifting toward her. But that wasn’t her concern now.

“The surface doesn’t respond to dead matter,” she noted, tracing the formula. She tried not to get distracted—but the shimmer lured her to bask in its beauty. The urge to look away from her work and plunge into the glow was nearly unbearable. Far stronger than the call she’d once resisted during her training more than fifty years ago. When magic had faded but wasn’t yet banned, she’d learned to resist wild magic’s temptation. Every alde faced it. Some burned—unable to keep their minds afloat.

Muna doubted any of her teachers had ever seen anything like this. A dense, pure, stable current. She longed to dive into it. To dissolve. To melt in the indescribable brilliance.

She finally exhaled with relief as the last symbol shimmered on the floor. A wild dance of colors and sounds echoed through a mind that hadn’t felt such tension in years. The magical weaves she worked with demanded far less focus—and power.

She didn’t need the final test. Everything was clear.
But she recited the simple formula she had just built—mentally. Touching the magic not with words, but with will and intention.

Magic responded the moment Muna’s will brushed its essence.

Sumana’s light transformed black flakes into violet sparks. They shimmered and trembled in the air, gathering at a focal point. Muna’s heart fluttered—but she didn’t let awe or emotion interfere. She carefully isolated them from the magic.

Water.
A small droplet quivered in the air, growing as the spell pulled moisture from the air.

“Three!” Muna couldn’t hold back. She had no strength left. A wave of joy surged into her mind—shattering her focus and the spell. The water sphere, the size of a fist, splashed in the middle of the street—bursting into thousands of sparkling droplets in the morning light.

She heard a breath.
A faint groan snapped her back to reality.

Without bothering to close the door, she stepped back.
Into the darkness of her little shop.

Away from the human figure that had begun to stir—shaking off the “snowy” rags clinging to its body.