The horizon fractured like shattered glass beneath a bleeding sunrise. Scarlet filaments streamed into the sky, rupturing the world's fragile veil between what was—and what would never be again.
Kael stood on the precipice of the Rift, the wound in reality that they had ripped open with desperate fingers and unyielding hearts. The wind was bitter on his tongue, tasting of ash and broken promises. Elira's hand sought his behind him, a lifeline in the fraying storm.
"We have passed the point of no return," she breathed, her eyes dark but indomitable. "After this. there can be no going back."
Kael nodded, his gaze fixed on the seething void below. "Then onward, together. Whatever the cost."
The void pulsed underfoot, an endless heartbeat calling up lost lands and unspoken things. Somewhere beyond the shattered light of dawn, the fate of all the threads was in the balance—twisted about in shadows, fire, and the shattered silence of lost gods.
