Lyra pushed herself upright, swaying with exhaustion. Her small hand reached out, not to Seraphina, but to clutch Zara's pant leg. She looked up at Zara, her eyes filled with tears and a terrifying, unwavering certainty. "My Anchor," she breathed, the words resonating with a power that vibrated in Zara's static-bone. "My Anchor stays."
The word Anchor echoed in Zara's fractured memories. Stability. Purpose. Grounding against the void.
Seraphina snarled, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury. "Then you doom us all!"
She raised both hands skyward. The crimson auroras convulsed. The air itself screamed – a high-pitched, soul-rending sound of tearing fabric. Above them, the sky didn't just flicker; it split.
Not with light, but with absolute void.
