The corridor twisted as they walked, warping space with every step. This wasn't just magic—it was narrative dissonance, the pressure of two realities trying to overwrite one another. Evelyn glanced back and saw the ground behind them ripple like water. The path was closing.
"We can't turn back," she said, her voice firmer than usual. "Not anymore."
Verena nodded once. "We wouldn't even if we could."
Sera's Dreamgate pulsed ahead—a jagged arch of crimson and violet light jutting out from the fractured wall like a wound. Unlike Evelyn's balanced portal or Beatrice's elegant mirror, Sera's was chaotic. The edges bled color. The air smelled faintly of copper and ash.
"Sera always saw herself as the fighter," Clarina muttered. "But she was never meant to stand alone."
Beatrice glanced at her. "She was prideful."
"She was scared," Evelyn added quietly.
No one disagreed.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world screamed.
