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Ahead, the ravine yawns wide, the Hollow’s throat open and waiting. And Luna—gods damn her—she doesn’t stop. She just jumps. No hesitation. No question of whether we’ll follow.

Elias whistles. “Nowthat’smy girl.”

I go after her. Not because I’m ready to die for her. Because somewhere between trying to avoid fate and trying to rewrite it, I forgot that I was never meant to be free of her.

I was meant tokneel.

But not yet. Not now.

Now, I fight.

The thunder of their footfalls rolls in behind me like a second heartbeat. The others crash down the slope, one by one, and the ground shudders with their momentum. I glance back just long enough to confirm what I already knew: they’re all here. Bloodied, burned, but alive.

Elias skids to a stop beside me, breathless and grinning like he’s high on the chaos. “If anyone asks, I totally didn’t get stabbed in the ass.”

“Noted,” I snap, dragging my arm tighter across my chest where the arrowhead still burrows under skin. The wound pulses with a heat I don’t acknowledge. I can’t. We’re not done.

Riven moves last, his massive form silhouetted against the glowing ridge above. For a heartbeat, he’s perfectly still—just wind and rage and the sharp glint of starlight caught on thecurve of his blade. Then he pivots, spreading his arms like wings, and slams his palms into the earth.

The worldscreamsin response.

The ground splits, groans,rises. Stone breaks through soil in jagged slabs, slabs that twist upward like teeth—layer after layer of obsidian and shale, until a wall climbs three stories high between us and the horde still clawing after Luna. They crash into it blindly, their screeches swallowed by the unrelenting roar of shifting rock.

A fuckingmountain, summoned in seconds.

Dust explodes upward as the final slab locks into place, sealing the gorge behind us. The energy it took to move that much terrain should have killed him. But Riven just straightens slowly, blood running from his nose, and looks back at Luna like he’d do it again. Twice. For less reason.

Silas whistles low, dragging a hand through his matted curls. “Okay, Daddy Earth. That was some biblical shit.”

Riven doesn't answer. He’s staring at Luna like he wants to apologize for bleeding on her shoes. And Luna—gods—She’s watching the wall, breathing slow, lips parted, not afraid butwatching. Like she's listening to something the rest of us can’t hear. Like the Hollow is whispering directly to her bones.

I step toward her before I think better of it.

The ground is humming under our boots, seismic energy leaking into the soles. The scent of scorched air clings to my skin, clotted with blood and dust and her. I want to demand she tell me if she’s hurt. I want to shake her for running. I want to kneel.I want—and I don’t know how tostop.

“What now?” Silas asks, tone too light, like we didn’t just nearly die—again. “Do we build a fire and braid each other’s hair or...?”

“Shut up,” Riven growls.

“I vote for braiding,” Elias adds, already digging through his bloodied bag for snacks like he hasn’t nearly ruptured every law of temporal physics today.

But the silence that follows is real. Thick. Weighted with more than exhaustion. Because none of us are stupid enough to think that wall will hold them forever. And none of us are stupid enough to say the thing we’re all thinking.

They’re coming for her again.They’ll keep coming until there’s nothing left to send. And then they’ll find new ways to haunt her.

To hauntus.

I turn back to Luna. My voice is low. Raw. “We move again in ten.”

She nods once.

And it should be enough. But I look at her and all I can think is:you made me hesitate once. You’ll do it again. And when you do—I’ll let you.

Gods help us all.

Her brows are drawn, lips parted, worry swimming behind her eyes like it’s a thing that belongs there now. She lifts her hand toward my shoulder, hesitant only for a breath—and then she presses her palm lightly against the edge of the break in my leathers, where the arrow went in.

The wound is raw, already clotted with blood that sticks to her skin now. But I can’t bring myself to move. She’s touching me and not flinching. She’s touchingmeand she’s not disgusted, not angry, not afraid.