There was no light. No sound. No self. Only the scream of the Unmaking.
Then—
A breath.
A thread.
A pulse.
Elira felt it first: a tug at the root of her soul. Her soul trembled, not in fear—but in recognition. Her threads hadn't ripped asunder… they had rewoven, fused in the flames of defiance. Her bond with Kael didn't waver in the explosion—it deepened, anchored by something more profound than magic.
Kael's fingers found hers in the abyss.
They weren't falling anymore.
They were ascending.
His voice reached her—not through sound, but through soul:
> "We're still here."
She opened her eyes.
And saw everything.
They were suspended in a cocoon of voidlight and thread—between realms, outside time. Below them, the Cradle was dissolving, becoming a spiral of fractured timelines and woven truths.
Ahead of them floated Rael.
Changed.
