The Pane screamed.
Not with words, not with voices—but with the shattering cry of its very structure. Every mirrored surface quaked, every fragment trembled, every eye in the broken sky blinked wildly as if in pain.
Ren stood in the center of it all, Thorn blazing in his grip. The ruin-light no longer sputtered or faltered—it roared, jagged arcs tearing across the battlefield like cracks in reality itself. The light didn't flow clean and even like the shadow's perfection. It writhed. It howled. It sang.
A savage, broken song.
The fragments recoiled, whispering in fear:
"The Thorn sings… the Thorn sings…"
The silver-haired girl clutched her chest, her flame pulsing violently in response. Her voice was trembling, half in awe, half in terror. "It's… alive. It's breaking the Pane's silence. Ren, do you hear it? That song… it's choosing you."
