The Gate did not open like a door.It remembered how to be open.Light surged—not outward, but inward—folding the broken framework back on itself as if the universe were inhaling after a long, choking silence. The hollow screamed, its layered geometries shuddering as the recalibration Draven had triggered rippled through every remaining seam.Elaria staggered, the force dragging at her bones, at the memory stitched beneath her skin. She tasted copper and frost and something older—ozone threaded with grief. The place beneath the Vale bent around her, not collapsing, not stabilizing, but listening.Something had changed.She could feel it the way one feels a storm before the clouds arrive—pressure without form, intent without voice. The third presence Draven had awakened pulsed at the edge of perception, neither light nor shadow, neither Gate nor anchor. It moved like a thought learning how to breathe.“Draven,” she whispered again, even though she knew he would not answer. The pull tha
Last Updated : 2026-01-07 Read more