Freactured Reach

Ari's POV

I felt the wall form before I fully understood what was happening. One moment, my voice was tangled with hers, thoughts weaving freely between us, and the next — a cold barrier slammed into place, cutting off her mind from mine. Therrin was gone. Or rather, locked away behind something cold and unyielding, leaving me stranded on this side of a vast, silent chasm.

Panic gripped me immediately. My heart hammered, breath caught in my throat, and my hands trembled as I tried to push against that invisible barrier. "Therrin!" I whispered, my voice breaking with desperation. "Please, don't shut me out."

No answer came. Nothing but an echo of silence.

I reached deeper, clawing at the mental wall, trying to tear it down with sheer force of will. But it held firm. Every attempt to bridge the divide only seemed to make it thicker, more solid. It was like fighting shadows in a storm—futile, exhausting, but I refused to give up.

The worst part was the loneliness. I had always shared everything with her — thoughts, feelings, even fears — but now it was like I was trapped inside a cage with no key, screaming for someone who couldn't hear me.

And it wasn't just Therrin. The block wasn't confined to our connection alone. Our bond to Dion, which had been a steady thread of light in the darkness, began to waver. His presence felt distant, muted, as if my reach into his mind was dampened by the same force that kept me from Therrin. It was like trying to grasp at water slipping through my fingers.

"Dion," I whispered, closing my eyes and reaching for him. "Can you hear me? I need you."

There was a faint pulse, a flicker of warmth in the dark, but not the full connection I was used to. I strained harder, sensing his confusion, his concern, but also a growing frustration as if he, too, felt the divide growing between us.

My chest tightened. I was losing them both, trapped in this expanding silence.

I thought about the last time I had spoken to Dion. The moment had felt urgent, like a lifeline, but I had held back what truly ailed me. How could I tell him the truth — that Therrin was retreating, that the wall was growing stronger with every passing second?

Instead, I whispered a fragile, "I have a problem."

His answer came quick, tinged with worry. "Tell me what's wrong. I'm here."

But I couldn't. Not yet. I didn't even fully understand it myself.

And then the voices came — soft, distant murmurs that seemed to echo just beyond my reach, teasing the edges of my mind. They were shadows, creeping in from the corners, whispering doubt, fear, and questions I wasn't ready to answer. The dark presence was there, as always, unseen but felt. It didn't speak directly to me — at least, not yet — but the air around me thickened with its unseen breath.

I swallowed the rising tide of fear and pushed it down, forcing my mind back to the wall between me and Therrin.

"Please," I whispered again, tears stinging my eyes.

"Come back to me."

Silence answered.

I didn't know how long I stayed like that, suspended in a painful limbo. But finally, through the haze of despair, a spark flickered. The wall quivered, just for a moment, and I seized it.

"Therrin," I called softly, focusing every ounce of strength I had. "I'm still here. I'm not leaving you."

I waited, breath held, heart pounding.

A faint, flickering light stirred in the distance of my mind. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to keep fighting. Enough to believe that one day, she would reach back.

But until then, I was trapped — caught between hope and fear, longing and isolation, desperately trying to hold onto the threads that connected us all.

And as dawn crept over the horizon, I made a promise to myself: I would tear down this wall. No matter what it took.

I wasn't alone. I had to believe that.

When I finally reached Dion later that day, exhaustion weighed heavy on me. But I forced myself to steady my voice.

"I have a problem," I said quietly.

He looked at me, eyes sharp but kind. "What kind of problem?"

I hesitated, swallowing the knot in my throat. "It's… complicated. It's Therrin. Something's wrong with her. With us."

His jaw clenched. "Tell me everything."

I wanted to. I wanted to spill the chaos inside me — the barrier, the silence, the shadows — but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I gave him what I could.

"She's… distant. I can't reach her. And the bond, between us all, it's breaking."

Dion's eyes darkened. "We'll fix this."

"We have to," I whispered.

Because if we didn't, I didn't know how much longer I could survive the silence.