The world snapped back into place with a hard jolt.
Arlen hit the ground on one knee, breath sharp, vision swimming. Mira steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, her own mark still glowing faintly from the Trial.
The chamber was gone. The swirling shards were gone. Now they stood on a ridge overlooking the real fracture — a tear in the air that pulsed like a slow, uneven heartbeat.
The ground trembled beneath them. Thin lines of pale light crawled through the dirt, spreading outward like roots searching for something to claim.
Mira swallowed hard. "It's worse than before."
Arlen nodded, though his stomach twisted. "It's growing."
A sharp crack echoed through the trees behind them.
Lysa burst into view first, moving fast, eyes wide with alarm. She wasn't alone.
Rowan followed close behind, carrying a pack slung over one shoulder. Sweat ran down his face, and he looked like he'd sprinted the whole way from the village.
"Thank the gods," he said, stopping to catch his breath. "We saw the surge from the square. Half the houses shook."
Mira blinked. "Rowan? You stayed?"
"Someone had to help Lysa," he said, giving a quick shrug. "Didn't feel right to leave everyone behind."
Lysa didn't answer. She was staring at the fracture — not with shock, but with something tighter. Something close to fear.
Arlen noticed the way her hand hovered near her mark. Not touching it. Just… close. Like she was waiting for it to flare.
A low hum rolled out from the fracture, deep enough to rattle their bones.
Rowan stepped back. "What is that?"
"Resonance," Mira said. "It's unstable."
Another pulse hit them — stronger this time. Arlen felt it in his teeth. Mira winced. Lysa flinched hard enough that Rowan reached for her arm.
She pulled away too fast.
"I'm fine," she said, voice sharp.
But she wasn't. Arlen could see it. Mira could too — her eyes narrowed, tracking Lysa's trembling hand.
The fracture brightened, a thin crack of white fire running through its center.
Arlen swallowed. "We need to anchor it."
Mira nodded. "Together."
Rowan looked between them, confused but trying to stay steady. "Tell me what to do."
"Stay back," Mira said. "If this goes wrong, you don't want to be close."
Rowan obeyed, stepping behind a fallen tree. Lysa didn't move. She kept staring at the fracture, jaw tight, breath uneven.
Arlen stepped toward her. "Lysa. You okay?"
She didn't look at him. "Just do what you came here to do."
Her voice was flat, but her eyes told a different story — a flash of something old, something she'd buried deep.
The ground shook again.
The fracture widened.
Arlen felt the pull of it — the same pull he'd felt in the Trial, but stronger, rawer, like the world itself was asking for something.
Mira reached for his hand.
"Ready?"
Arlen squeezed back. "Yeah."
Their marks flared in sync, light spilling across their arms and up their necks. The air around them thickened, humming with pressure.
The fracture responded.
A wave of force slammed into them. Arlen staggered but held his ground. Mira braced her feet, teeth clenched.
Behind them, Rowan ducked behind the tree. Lysa didn't move. She stood frozen, eyes locked on the fracture, breath coming too fast.
Arlen felt the resonance building — a rising pressure in his chest, like the world was pushing back.
Mira leaned closer. "Stay with me."
"I'm here."
They stepped forward together.
The fracture roared.
Light burst outward, blinding and hot. Arlen felt it tear at him — not his body, but something deeper. His thoughts wavered. His vision blurred.
Mira's grip tightened. "Focus!"
He tried. He really tried. But the fracture wasn't just unstable — it was angry. It pushed against them like a living thing, refusing to be held.
Arlen's knees buckled.
Mira caught him, pulling him upright. "Don't let go!"
"I'm not—" He gasped as another wave hit. "I'm not letting go."
The ground split beneath their feet, thin cracks spreading outward like spiderwebs.
Rowan shouted something, but the roar drowned it out.
Lysa took a step forward — then stopped, shaking. Her mark flickered once, bright and sharp, before she forced it down.
Arlen saw it.
Mira saw it.
Lysa's eyes widened, like she'd revealed something she never meant to.
The fracture pulsed again, harder than before.
Arlen felt the world tilt.
Mira's voice cut through the noise. "Arlen! Anchor with me!"
He reached for the resonance — the same way he had in the Trial — but the corruption inside him stirred, twisting, pulling him off balance.
Not now. Not now.
His vision darkened at the edges.
Mira grabbed his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Stay with me. I'm right here."
Her voice steadied him. The darkness eased.
They pushed together.
The fracture screamed.
Light exploded outward, throwing dust and leaves into the air. Arlen felt the resonance snap tight, like a rope pulled to its limit.
For a moment — just a moment — the fracture held.
Then the pressure doubled.
Arlen's breath caught. Mira's knees buckled. The ground shook so hard Rowan fell to one side.
Lysa stumbled forward, hand outstretched before she could stop herself.
"Don't—" she whispered, voice breaking. "Don't let it take you."
Arlen heard the fear in her voice — real fear, not for herself, but for them.
The fracture surged again.
Arlen and Mira were thrown backward, hitting the ground hard. Their marks dimmed, flickering like dying embers.
The fracture didn't close.
It grew.
A new crack split open beside it, thin but bright, like a second wound forming.
Rowan stared in horror. "Is that supposed to happen?"
"No," Mira said, pushing herself up with a groan. "Not at all."
Arlen wiped blood from his lip, heart pounding. "We need another plan."
Lysa stepped forward, pale and shaking. "There is no other plan."
Arlen looked at her — really looked at her — and saw the truth she'd been hiding.
She knew this place.
She knew this feeling.
She'd stood at the edge of a fracture before.
And whatever happened then… it scarred her.
The ground rumbled again, louder this time.
The second crack widened.
Mira grabbed Arlen's arm. "We need to move."
Rowan helped Lysa back as the ridge began to crumble.
Arlen stared at the fracture — both fractures — and felt a cold weight settle in his chest.
They hadn't failed.
They'd made things worse.
And the world was about to pay for it.