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Kato pressed a button. Machinery whirred as the armor clamped around him and the suit hummed to life. Lights flickered across the surface, tracing an intricate network of glowing lines that flowed across the metal. Steam hissed and metal creaked as the joints on the legs extended.

Skye was suddenly dwarfed by two towering sets of metal armor.

Eula gave a few warm-up punches, testing the hydraulics. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Her voice came out tinny and graveled through the intercom, but the eagerness was still there.

Kato saluted with a giant metal arm. “Good luck saving the damsel. Don’t forget to look heroic.”

For something so large, the suits were surprisingly graceful. Skye watched as they darted across the field like twin gazelles.

In the distance, the Aion Gate stood like a monolith. Intense blue light shone from its center. From a mile away, he could see the air around it shimmering and distorting, as if reality itself was being warped. The sky above had turned an ominous shade of violet, swirling with darker streaks that spiraled inward toward the Gate’s summit.

Despite the panic clawing at his throat, there was a strange beauty to it all—the raw power of the universe on display, awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure. Skye’s heart raced, not just with fear, but with desperate hope.

Trouble—check. High stakes—check.

Was he on the verge of stress-induced heart failure—double check.

That meant Taly had to be close. If he knew her, she’d be right in the middle of trouble.

He didn’t have the bond to track her, but he didn’t need it. He could follow her anywhere. Her scent was as familiar as his own.

“I’m coming, Taly. Just hold on.”

Then he took off at a sprint, either towards his doom or his salvation. The ground blurred beneath his feet, each stride a gamble, every breath a silent plea to the gods who had long since stopped listening.

Just let me reach her. Let there be something left when I do.

Chapter 84

Taly stood at the edge of the universe.

This was the cradle of creation. The place where time had first unfurled.

Her body remained elsewhere, anchored to a distant reality, but her mind had ascended beyond it, slipping into the vastness of the cosmos.

Before her, planets and galaxies wheeled through infinite black. Their light flickered against the void—cold, distant, untouchable.

Here, at the brink of existence, she could hear the echoes of the universe’s birth, a chorus of whispers. Voices from the dawn of time, telling of worlds forged in fire and stars igniting in the dark.

She couldseethe first wave of energy still rippling outward from that brilliant explosion where it all began.

The Weave shimmered all around her in a dance of light and shadow, stretched across the loom of infinity. And she was the shuttle, the will, the one drawing the threads into form.

Like a hum, the hyaline pillars vibrated. Even here, she felt it. And from the opposite edge of the universe, a murmur echoed.

That was her heading.

Like plunging a needle into fabric, Taly began to stitch. She pulled the thread taut, willing time to fold—but the Weave resisted. Even with her enormous power, it wasn’t enough to shift the full weight of the cosmos. It was like hauling a sodden blanket through a river, sluggish and unyielding.

Then, another force took hold—a steady, firm hand pulling alongside hers.

It began as a ripple, faint and distant.

The hum grew louder, building beneath her skin.

Slowly, the distant galaxies drew closer, not moving but stretching, their shapes elongating as space began to fold like fabric pulled from both ends.

The vast expanse twisted. Stars blurred into streaks of light, and planets—once mere pinpricks—swelled into view.