He stared at her as though she'd cracked open the sky.
Manon stood tall in the chamber of broken mirrors, the fragments glinting around her like a shattered prophecy. Her voice still echoed through the stillness: "Help me free you. Or watch me walk away forever."
Rashien didn't move.
Not at first.
Then something—some storm inside him—broke.
"You think you can leave me," he said softly, dangerously. "Even now, after everything?"
"I think I already have," she said. "I'm not yours. Not anymore."
His eyes widened. For a heartbeat, he looked unmade. And then he laughed. A wild, desperate sound.
"No, no, no," he whispered, pacing in tight, fast circles. "This is the thorn again. This is the poison dream. You can't walk. You can't want to."
"Wanting has nothing to do with it," Manon said. "It's need. I need to be free."
He stopped pacing. Turned to her. His voice dropped to a rasp.
"I need you."
Manon froze.
