Silenced Light

Ari's POV

The wall came down like a guillotine.

One second, Therrin's thoughts were spiraling—tight, tense, trembling like they always did when she was overwhelmed—and the next…

Gone.

Gone.

No. No, no, no—

Ari recoiled in the empty dark, stunned.

"Therrin?" she called. "Therrin, say something—please!"

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of breath in their shared space.

She slammed herself against the invisible barrier in Therrin's mind, heart thundering. It wasn't just silence. It was void. It felt like being locked out of her own body—like someone had ripped out her tether and tossed it into a frozen sea.

She didn't know Therrin could do that. Had never felt her do it before. Not like this. Not so absolute.

Ari pressed harder. "Therrin, talk to me! I don't care if you're angry or hurting—just don't shut me out like this!"

Her voice echoed into nothingness.

Panic hit her like a storm.

She clawed at the walls—not physically, not really, but in the way soul-bound things do when they're split. Therrin was still there, but distant. Muted. Like a lighthouse swallowed by fog.

And worse—Ari could feel the pressure on the other side. A strange weight. Cold. Heavy. Familiar in a way that made her insides curdle.

Something else was in there with Therrin.

Something she couldn't reach. Couldn't see.

Couldn't fight.

"No," Ari hissed, slamming herself against the block again. "Don't you dare do this! Don't you dare keep me out!"

But her words bounced back.

The harder she pushed, the stronger the wall became.

It was like Therrin had drawn her soul inward—hunched down into herself and locked the door. No key. No opening. No warmth.

Ari gasped in frustration. "Let me in," she whispered, voice breaking. "Please. Let me help you."

But the only answer was silence.

And that silence screamed.

She curled up in the mental space that remained to her—tight, fists clenched, shaking from the effort it took to stay present. It was like she could feel Therrin suffering, and couldn't do anything to stop it.

This wasn't just fear. Something was poisoning her twin from the inside. Wrapping around her like vines, digging into soft places.

"Dion," she whispered, but his name felt farther away now.

The bond to him had always been strongest through Therrin. They'd all felt the same pull, tangled together like three threads. But with Therrin's mind locked down, the magic frayed.

Unstable.

She stretched toward the bond, focusing. Please, please answer me.

Nothing.

She screamed his name in the void.

Still—nothing.

She collapsed back in the mindscape, gasping for air she didn't need. Alone. Unmoored. Desperate.

Was this what it felt like to die?

Was this what Therrin felt like all the time—trapped in herself, overwhelmed, pulled apart by voices she couldn't always control?

She never should've pushed so hard. She knew Therrin was close to breaking, and she still pushed. Still tried to get her to talk when she wasn't ready.

Ari's breath caught.

That wall hadn't been built to hurt her. It had been thrown up to survive.

It was instinct.

And that terrified her even more.

Because Therrin only ever cut her off when something unbearable was rising inside her. And now… whatever that something was, Ari had no way of knowing if it would consume her completely.

She forced herself upright inside the mental space. Focused. Sharpened. A spear of her will cutting through the chaos.

She had to get to Dion.

He was the only one strong enough to feel her from a distance now. The only one who could maybe get through to Therrin—physically, emotionally, magically.

Even if it was faint, even if it hurt—Ari reached for him.

Pushed all her energy toward the bond they shared.

The distance stretched like molasses between stars.

Until—

Warmth.

A flicker. Faint. Then brighter.

Dion.

He turned in her direction, barely sensing her at first. Like she was a half-formed thought on the edge of a dream.

She focused harder.

"Dion—!"

He froze. Eyes widening in the physical world.

Ari clung to the tether between them, dizzy and breathless. "I need you," she said. Her voice cracked. "Something's wrong."

She felt his alarm spike through the bond.

But before he could speak, she began to fade again.

The wall hadn't just locked her out of Therrin. It had sapped her strength. Disconnected her from the world like a limb gone numb.

Still—before the darkness swallowed her entirely, she managed one last thought.

"She's not safe."

And then—nothing.