Semua Bab Beyond Redemption: Bab 191 - Bab 200

Echoes Beneath the BridgeThe temple had never felt so silent. Even the air seemed to hesitate before moving, thick with the scent of storm and stone. Every step I took echoed through the corridor, following me like a ghost that didn’t yet know it was dead.I hadn’t slept since the nightmare — since seeing the shadow wear Edward’s face. It haunted the edges of my vision now, flickering in reflections, whispering in the gaps between heartbeats.When I reached the central hall, Sylra was already waiting. She’d spread scrolls and ancient maps across the marble floor, their corners held down by crystals humming faintly with protection wards.“You found something,” I said, my voice rough.She nodded grimly. “There’s a ritual. Older than the bridge, older than the first kings. It was used once — to purge corruption from the Source itself.”I knelt beside her, scanning the curling runes. “You’re talking about the First Severing.”“Yes,” she whispered. “But it’s dangerous. It doesn’t just cu

The Shape by the RiverThe morning after the shadow sighting, I didn’t tell anyone what I’d seen.Sylra would have said it was exhaustion or grief twisting my mind. Maybe she would have been right. But that flicker of movement by the water—the tilt of a head, the way the wind seemed to bend around that figure—hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like him.I spent the dawn pacing the temple’s broken hallways, the crystal clutched in my hand. Its light was stronger now, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.By midmorning, I couldn’t take the waiting anymore. I threw on my cloak and headed down the worn stone path toward the valley.The air was sharp with mist, and dew clung to every leaf like glass. The river wound through the land below like a silver thread, glittering beneath the rising sun.Each step closer sent a thrill of dread and hope twisting through me. I told myself I was being foolish—that Edward was gone, that this was just the world reshaping itself after the chaos.But so

The Bridge of Blood and MemoryThe storm had not stopped.For three days, thunder rolled endlessly over the valley, and the skies wept like the heavens themselves were warning us to stop.But I didn’t stop.I couldn’t.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face—the man who wasn’t quite Edward, standing in the void with that unbearable sadness in his eyes. I could still hear his voice, soft but insistent: One last bridge, and we’ll both be free.Those words haunted me like a curse.Sylra had done everything she could to dissuade me.She locked the ritual chamber twice. She threatened to destroy the cracked crystal. She even brought the council into it—those old, frightened scholars who still spoke the word “void” as though it were poison.But the truth was simple: none of them had seen what I had. None of them understood that this wasn’t about power anymore.It was about ending the loop.I found myself in the library that night, the oldest part of the temple, where the air smelled li

The Fracture Beneath the CalmThe air tasted different now.Not like the metallic tang of storm or the dry dust of ruin—something sharper, alive, threaded with both warmth and chill.Every step I took through the valley carried a faint vibration, as though the ground itself recognized me. The plants bowed toward my presence, petals trembling under invisible wind. Streams shifted direction when I passed.Nature itself was responding.Sylra followed a few paces behind, her staff clicking softly on the stones. I could feel her gaze like a weight between my shoulders.“You shouldn’t be out yet,” she said quietly.“I’m fine,” I lied.She said nothing, but I could feel her doubt. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been since that night.Ever since the ritual, my senses had sharpened in unnatural ways. I could hear the heartbeat of every creature within a mile radius, feel the pulse of the earth as though it were my own. At times, the world blurred, shifting between color and shadow—two

The Bridge of NamesThe void wasn’t empty.It breathed.The ground beneath me pulsed in slow, rhythmic waves—soft and luminous, like the heartbeat of a sleeping god. The air shimmered with threads of silver mist, forming faces that vanished the moment I blinked. They whispered my name, sometimes gently, sometimes accusingly.“Kora Vale,” they murmured. “Daughter of shadow. Maker of bridges. Breaker of chains.”Each name cut through me like truth.Edward’s voice came faintly from behind. “Don’t listen to them. They’ll twist your thoughts.”“I have to,” I said. “They’re part of me.”I walked forward, and the void shifted, revealing shapes forming out of the light—doorways, fragments of memories frozen mid-motion. There was the forest where I’d first bled under the moon, the temple where Sylra taught me to harness the glow, and even the night Edward marked me, his eyes fierce and desperate.Every choice I’d ever made hung here, weightless and luminous.“This place…” I whispered, “It’s n