The rift didn't just widen—it unfolded.
Like a flower forced into bloom, its edges peeled outward in sharp, jagged petals of gold light, each unfurling with a sound that scraped along Eira's bones. The forest around the clearing bent away from it, trunks warping as if a giant invisible hand was pressing outward from within the tear.
Eira stumbled back, eyes locked on Cain.
He wasn't collapsing anymore.
He was rising.
Slowly. Unsteadily. Pulled up not by his own strength but by the tether hooked through his core. His feet left the ground by inches, then a foot, then two. His back arched as the pressure around him thickened, solidified, wrapped around him like unseen chains.
"Cain," she called—voice low, steady, controlled. She didn't bother trying to touch him again. "Fight it."
His head jerked toward her, but his eyes… weren't focused on her. Not fully. Gold light swirled in the irises like ink diffusing through water.
"It sees you," he said.
His voice was layered.
