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Above him the storm grows darker, more concentrated—not a natural formation. Silver light pulses within the clouds like a heartbeat.

The world begins to constrict. Light flattens. Sound dulls. I understand Sereven’s intent a moment before it strikes.

This is not death. It is unmaking.

He means to sever me from the VeinandVoid, to leave only the shell behind. Stripped of magic, stripped of identity. The same sentence they gave others like me. Quiet erasure. A death that never requires burial.

There is no more time to weigh the options. No path that doesn’t end in loss. But I know what I will not surrender.

The choice I’m left with crystalizes with brutal simplicity.

Stay and fight a battle already lost, or preserve what matters most.

Ellie.

Her name brings a cascade of images and sensations. The unexpected warmth of her hand when it first touched mine in the tower. The way she challenged me at every turn, refusing to be manipulated even when she had no choice but to help me.

The connection between us—unanticipated, undesired, undeniable. Something I never planned for, never expected to find after a lifetime defined by duty and distance.

The future that might exist beyond this moment if I survive. Ifshesurvives.

Power shifts within me as my decision takes root. Shadows rise along my spine, coil around my frame—not shaped for attack or defense, but drawn inward. Preparing for something else entirely.

Above, my familiar circles. It does not wait for command. Our bond is older than language, the raven reading what I intend before I fully form the thought. Its wings align with mine, its course mirroring the conclusion I’ve reached.

It will cost nearly everything I have left. But she is worth it.

Sereven completes his incantation, the crystal flaring with blinding intensity. From blue to white to something beyond normal light. A radiance that seems to emanate from between realities.

A pulse rips outward in a visible wave, distorting everything it touches. It tears through my shadows like a blade through spider silk, unmaking in seconds what took decades to discipline. The soldiers brace. Their weapons rise in unison. They are waiting for the clearing of the field. For me to be exposed.

But I’m already moving. Already implementing a desperate plan.

Darkness folds inward around me, collapsing into itself, drawing tightly against my body. I let it consume me. A shield. A cloak. A passage.

Shadow transportation. My most demanding ability. One I’ve only used successfully once. It requires complete stillness, absolute focus. The kind of preparation that once took me a full night of breathing rituals and spatial mapping. The first time nearly killed me.

And here I am, attempting it under the worst possible conditions. Weakened, under disruption so severe I can barely hold my form.

The wave hits as I begin to vanish.

Shadows scream in protest. My structure falters. Existence bends. Sensation becomes noise. The barrier between self and spell thins until it cannot be told apart.

My familiar shrieks, no longer only sound, but feedback across the bond that links our forms. It’s caught mid-transition, half-formed, pulled in opposite directions. It flickers, flickers again, as I draw on its strength and it bleeds back into mine.

Agony blurs the edges. Still, I hold.

Through the agony, I fix my mind on a single place. Not River Crossing where Ellie waits. That distance would kill me, and worse, it would bring Sereven’s soldiers to her side. I choose the closer route. A clearing my familiar noted. A pocket between trees. A hollow beneath old roots. A place where shadow pools without interference. A place chosen not for safety, but for recovery.

Once I have it in mind, I let go.

Darkness swallows me whole, and I surrender to its embrace. For a heartbeat, I exist nowhere and everywhere, suspended between moments in a void where reality’s rules bend to shadow’s will.

My consciousness fractures, scattered across multiple points of silence. Sound vanishes. Light ceases. Time loses shape. Only intent remains. The desperate need to escape. To survive. To continue.

For her. For what might still be.

Then gravity reasserts itself. My body slams back into the world, striking earth. The force drives the air from my lungs, leaves andbroken branches scraping against my skin. The scent of rot and moss fills my throat.