The edge of the Realms wasn't a line.
It was a thinning.
Like parchment worn to threads, like breath before death, like the hush before a star's last light.
It was there that Lyra stood, with six Fragments swirling in quiet orbit around her. Behind her, the Stellar Vow floated at anchor amid the debris of fallen worlds, while her companions prepared for what none of them could name.
Kaelen approached slowly. He hadn't spoken since their reunion after the Hollow Sanctum. He simply watched her—like he was seeing someone newly born.
"We've mapped every world," he said "Traveled through dreams, into voids, through cities built on gods' bones. And now…"
"Now we leave everything behind," Lyra finished.
"And if there's nothing beyond?"
She touched one of the Fragments. It pulsed in reply.
"Then we'll make something."
The final Fragment's signal didn't transmit—it whispered.
It hummed like stardust against skin, a lullaby sung between the beats of existence. Elian had traced it to a breach, just beyond the Realm Rind—a shell of dying reality where even Serian's gaze didn't reach.
To cross it, they couldn't rely on starships or gates.
They needed Threadwalking.
"Only you can do this," Nysera said "You hold the Fragments. You are the loom now."
"I can't pull all of you through," Lyra warned "Not at once."
"Then we'll follow through the echoes," Vaelion said, stepping forward from the shadows "Walk where you've burned the trail."
Kaelen placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Wherever this leads, we face it together."
"Even if we're scattered?"
"We'll find each other again. We always do."
Lyra stepped forward.
And stepped out.
Not into darkness, nor into void.
But into something else.
A world between pulses.
Time bled sideways.
She stood in a field of white flame, but it didn't burn. She saw towers of glass and rivers of memory. Above her, instead of stars—eyes. Watching. Waiting.
And in the center, floating like a wound that had never closed—
—the Seventh Fragment.
It was wrong.
Unlike the others, this one wasn't dormant.
It was screaming.
Each scream birthed a new possibility. A version of Lyra who had failed.
One turned tyrant.
One drowned in sorrow.
One who never fought at all.
They rose from the flame.
Reflections given flesh. Twisted echoes.
They looked like her—but hollowed. Ash-eyed. Smiling without warmth.
"This is what you could become," said a voice.
She turned—
Serian.
But younger. Before he fell. When he had once been the bearer of this Fragment.
"You see it, don't you?" he whispered "This is the burden. The final truth. The Seventh Fragment holds every thread that was cut."
"Then I'll weave them back," Lyra said.
"They will consume you."
"Then I'll burn brighter than they can swallow."
The fight wasn't physical.
It was spiritual.
Each twisted Lyra lunged not with blade, but memory.
The one who loved too much and lost Kaelen.
The one who never found the Fragments.
The one who killed Serian instead of trying to save him.
They lashed out with pain. With guilt.
"You left them behind."
"You broke your promise."
"You will never be enough."
Lyra stood firm.
"Maybe I didn't always win," she said, breath catching "Maybe I wasn't enough in every world. But in this one—I chose to try again."
Each word became a star.
Each breath, a flame.
The reflections cracked. Shattered.
And at last, the Seventh Fragment floated silently before her.
Waiting.
"What are you?" she whispered.
And the answer came—not in words, but threads.
It was Regret, Hope, Pain, Resilience.
The fragment of the Self That Keeps Going.
She reached out.
And screamed.
The Fragment surged into her.
Every alternate thread raced through her blood, rewriting her.
She saw herself in every possible form—
Villain, Hero, Ghost, Flame, Shadow, Song.
And in all of them… the same spark.
"I am Lyra of the Shattered Realms," she said aloud "And I am whole."
The Seventh Fragment blazed.
She fell.
But landed not on stone, nor ash—
—but within the Threads themselves.
They wrapped around her gently, and for the first time, the tapestry came into focus.
Every Realm.
Every soul.
Every memory.
It had never been shattered.
It had only been disconnected.
When Lyra awoke, the Stellar Vow hovered overhead.
Kaelen stood beside her, his armor glowing with runes.
"You found it," he said.
"No," Lyra replied "It found me."
She rose, the seven Fragments orbiting her now like planets to a sun.
"Now what?" Elian asked, joining them.
"Now," Lyra said, looking toward the distance where threads of light spread endlessly outward, "we end this. Not by sealing the Realms. Not by destroying Serian. But by restoring what he forgot."
"What's that?" Nysera asked.
"That every thread matters."