The refuge cannot hold out.
It was never designed for that.
It exists in a corner of the world, where lines intersect without naming each other.
Not invisible. Simply unclaimed.
A place that no one ever thought worth defining,
because it offered neither power, nor symbolism, nor promise.
Until now.
Lunaya senses it even before the others mention it.
It is not an alert.
It is not a threat.
It is a new awareness.
The Witnesses are no longer alone.
Other eyes join them.
Slower.
More methodical.
Eyes that don't observe what they see, but what it allows.
Kael realizes it by the way the air changes.
Not a smell.
Not a sound.
A density.
"We can't stay," he says.
Dravik doesn't disagree.
The fire beneath his skin is silent, contained to the extreme.
Like a beast forced to remain lying down.
Sahr understands immediately.
And for once, he doesn't speak.
Lunaya moves toward the center of the shelter.
Her steps are slow.
Assured.
She doesn't tremble.
"They're going to use it," she says simply.
Kael frowns.
"Who?"
"All those who still want to believe that I can be moved without consequence."
Silence falls.
Not tense.
Heavy.
"We can defend it," Dravik says in a low voice.
Not like a promise.
Like a potential mistake.
Lunaya turns to him.
Her gaze is soft.
Almost sad.
"No."
One word.
Clear.
Definitive.
"As long as it exists, they can tell themselves that I'm hiding.
That I'm stalling.
That I'm letting you be the filter."
She inhales slowly.
"I don't want a filter anymore."
Kael takes a step toward her.
"Lunaya..."
She raises her hand.
He stops.
Instinctively.
"If you do this, he says, you know what it means."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No explanation.
Sahr closes his eyes.
He understands exactly what she is about to do.
And for the first time, he has nothing else to offer.
Lunaya kneels.
She places her hand on the ground.
The black-silver thread responds immediately.
Not with force.
With gratitude.
She doesn't destroy the refuge.
She removes what makes it possible.
An anchor.
An ancient permission.
A silent agreement that the world had forgotten.
She undoes it.
Calmly.
Methodically.
The refuge does not collapse.
It empties.
The contours become blurred.
The lines unravel.
The space ceases to be an ''elsewhere'' and becomes just another point on the map of the world.
Something withdraws.
Not with pain.
With resignation.
Kael senses the exact moment when the place ceases to recognize them.
His jaws clench.
He says nothing.
Dravik looks away.
Because he knows:
if he looked any longer, the fire would come out.
And that fire would save nothing.
Sahr observes.
And understands that even the shadow has just lost one of its last refuges.
When Lunaya gets up, the refuge no longer exists.
There is only an ordinary clearing.
Exposed.
Namable.
Observable.
"It's done," she says.
No one answers.
Far away.
Beyond the forests.
Beyond the thresholds.
Something takes note.
Not a victory.
Not a defeat.
A change of status.
Lunaya is no longer a case to be contained.
She is an active variable.
Kael starts moving again.
"Let's go."
This time, no one argues.
As she leaves the old refuge, Lunaya does not look back.
She knows what she has left behind.
Not protection.
Not a place.
A chance to not have to choose.
And she has just sacrificed it.