The Tower roared.
Stone ground against stone, and the bridge beneath Ethan and Elara shook as if the entire realm were shuddering awake. Light tore across the sky above, jagged cracks splitting through the air like lightning made solid. Each fissure bled a pale glow, too bright to be real, as though the heavens themselves were breaking.
Ethan braced his stance, sword raised. His knuckles ached from how tightly he gripped the hilt. The storm that had chased them through the abyss was not gone, it was circling, brewing in silence, waiting for its next strike.
Beside him, Elara's breathing came fast and uneven. Her lips still trembled from the word she had whispered, his name, carried like a plea and a vow. Ethan's chest clenched at the sound replaying in his head. It was the only thing keeping him steady against the chaos.
The bridge stretched endlessly ahead, vanishing into mist, but now… now it wasn't alone.
Above them, in the fractures of light, shapes emerged. Towers upon towers, inverted and suspended in the sky, like a city built upside down. Bridges tangled with bridges, floating walkways hung like spider silk, and structures gleamed with impossible architecture. The vision shifted as if refusing to stay solid, but one truth echoed clear: the Tower had revealed a new layer.
The Floating City.
Elara's gaze locked on it, her storm-gray eyes reflecting both awe and dread. "It was waiting," she whispered. "For us."
Ethan swallowed hard, his mark burning faint beneath his sleeve. "Then let's not keep it waiting."
Together they pushed forward, the bridge trembling beneath every step. The mist thinned as they neared the center, and the air thickened with pressure, like being dragged beneath deep water. Ethan's lungs strained, but he forced his legs to keep moving. Elara matched his pace, though her fingers twitched at her side, as if she longed to reach for him and didn't dare.
When the bridge ended, it ended not in collapse, but in ascension.
A spiral of stone rose ahead, a staircase that wound upward into the bleeding cracks of the sky. The closer they drew, the more the floating city above seemed to stabilize, pulling itself from fragments into something whole.
And waiting at the top of the stairs…
A gate.
It was massive, wrought from black iron and glass that shimmered like starlight. Symbols crawled across its surface, glowing faintly in rhythm with the shard in Ethan's pocket. His mark pulsed harder in response, like a heartbeat out of sync with his own.
Elara stepped closer, her voice hushed. "It feels… alive."
"Everything here feels alive," Ethan muttered, though the words tasted like truth he didn't want to face.
They climbed the stairs. Each step carried the weight of inevitability, as if the Tower itself had been pulling them here since the beginning.
At the gate, the ground trembled again. From the shadows beneath the arch, shapes detached, figures, tall and faceless, their bodies rippling like smoke bound into human form. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, locked on Ethan and Elara.
Guardians.
The first lunged.
Ethan raised his sword just in time, steel clashing against its smoky blade. The impact rattled his bones. He staggered back, but Elara was already moving, her own sword slicing clean through another guardian's form. It shrieked, dissipating into mist, but two more rose to take its place.
The battle exploded.
Steel rang, sparks lit the dark, and shadows writhed with inhuman speed. Ethan's breath came ragged, each swing fueled less by skill than by desperation. Yet every time he faltered, Elara was there, her strikes precise, her movements sharp, her presence an anchor in the chaos.
They fought back to back, moving as one.
And in those moments, despite the storm, despite the Tower's hunger, Ethan felt it, the bond between them. Unspoken, unbreakable.
When the last guardian fell, dissolving into smoke that the gate seemed to swallow, silence descended. Ethan staggered forward, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his brow. Elara lowered her sword, her shoulders trembling, but her eyes… her eyes were on him.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
The gate groaned.
Its surface cracked open, light spilling out in slow, deliberate streams. The city above pulsed in answer, and a stair of radiance unfolded beyond the threshold, leading upward into the Floating City itself.
Elara's hand tightened on her hilt. She glanced at Ethan, then quickly away, as if ashamed of the look in her eyes.
He noticed. He always noticed.
"Elara," he said softly.
She froze.
He stepped closer, sword lowered, his voice gentler than it had been since they'd entered the Tower. "Back there… when you called my name…"
Her breath hitched. Her fingers flexed nervously against the hilt of her sword. The walls she had built so carefully, walls of anger, mistrust, betrayal, quivered as though one more word could shatter them.
"I…" she began, her voice barely a whisper.
The gate's light flared.
Ethan's mark seared, a blaze that stole his breath. He staggered, clutching his wrist. The shard in his pocket screamed with light, too bright to contain.
"Ethan?" Elara's eyes widened, panic sparking across her face. She reached for him, but the glow had already consumed him, crawling up his arm like fire.
His body convulsed. His sword fell from his grip.
"No!" Elara lunged forward, catching his shoulders. "Stay with me!"
Her touch steadied him for a heartbeat, and in that heartbeat, she found the courage she had been fighting to deny.
"I need to tell you…" Her voice broke, desperate. "Ethan, I."
The Tower ripped him away.
Light exploded, swallowing him whole. His scream echoed once, then vanished into silence.
And just like that, he was gone.
Elara stumbled forward, her hands clutching only air. The gate's glow dimmed, leaving her kneeling at its threshold, the emptiness where Ethan had been burning worse than any wound.
"Ethan!" she screamed, her voice raw, echoing through the Tower's endless dark.
The Floating City above trembled in answer, as though the Tower itself had been waiting for this.
The light swallowed him.
Ethan hit the ground hard, the impact rattling his bones. He gasped, dragging air into his lungs as though he'd been drowning. The world around him swam in blinding white, until, slowly, shapes bled through.
The couch. The coffee table. The stack of unopened bills.
His apartment.
Again.
Ethan choked on a ragged breath, clutching his wrist. The mark still burned faint beneath his skin, a phantom fire refusing to die. The sword lay across his lap, its steel glowing faintly, out of place in the mundane clutter of his home.
He wasn't free. He was trapped.
"Elara…" he whispered, his voice breaking.
He squeezed his eyes shut, searching for her in the darkness behind his lids, for her storm-gray eyes, her steady presence, the word she had almost spoken before the Tower had stolen him away. But there was nothing. Only silence.
"Ethan?"
His head snapped up.
Sofia stood in the doorway again, just like before. Her expression was sharper now, less fear and more fury. Her arms were crossed, her eyes red from sleepless nights.
"You're joking." Her voice shook with disbelief. "Gone again. Hours this time. Do you think this is a game?"
Ethan's chest clenched. He tried to stand, but his legs wavered beneath him. "Sofia, I…"
"You what?" she snapped. "You can't keep doing this! You disappear without a word, and I'm supposed to just, what? Pretend it's normal?"
Her voice cracked, but she bit it down. "I can't do this anymore, Ethan."
The words cut deeper than any wound.
His mouth went dry. He wanted to tell her everything, to swear that this wasn't abandonment, wasn't betrayal. That he hadn't chosen to leave. But even if she believed him, what good would it do? The Tower wouldn't stop. The mark wouldn't fade. And Elara… Elara was still trapped, waiting.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. It was the only truth he could give.
Sofia shook her head, her jaw tight. "Sorry doesn't fix this." She turned sharply, retreating into the kitchen, leaving him alone with the sword across his lap and the silence pressing in.
Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears. He dragged a trembling hand across his face. The shard lay on the table, dim but pulsing faintly, as if mocking him. He wanted to smash it, to break free of its pull. But the thought of Elara's scream, the way she had cried his name as the light swallowed him, froze him in place.
He couldn't leave her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Elara
The gate loomed, dark and silent.
Elara knelt at its base, her hands still outstretched as though she could drag Ethan back from the void. Her throat ached from screaming, her body trembling from the battle, but none of it hurt as much as the emptiness beside her.
He was gone.
Her chest heaved. She pressed her palm against her wrist, the mark searing faint beneath her skin. It was proof, proof that he was still bound to the Tower, even if it had torn him away. But that wasn't enough. She had been about to tell him, to give words to the feelings clawing at her chest, and now…
Now the silence was unbearable.
The Floating City above groaned, its towers shifting, its bridges weaving new patterns like a web tightening around prey. The ground trembled beneath her, and whispers slithered through the mist, voices that weren't hers.
He's gone. never come back. You'll be alone again.
Her grip on her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white. "Shut up."
The whispers hissed, but she forced herself to stand.
Alone or not, she would not break. Not here. Not again.
Her gaze rose to the City, the impossible structures gleaming faintly against the fractured sky. The path forward was clear: up. The Tower had taken Ethan, but it had left her a road. She would follow it. She would climb.
And if the Tower thought it could take him from her forever, It would learn how wrong it was.
Ethan sat on the edge of the couch, his hand pressed hard over his mark. The fire there had dimmed, but not vanished. He could still feel her through it, a faint pull, a thread that told him she was still inside. Still fighting.
Sofia's voice drifted from the kitchen, muffled, distant. He didn't move. Couldn't.
Instead, he stared at the RealmLink where it lay on the table, cold and dark. The last time he'd put it on, the Tower had claimed him instantly. Would it happen again? Could he force his way back to Elara?
He reached for it, fingers trembling.
"Elara…" he whispered again, the name a vow.
Elara
The stairs of light stretched upward, winding into the fractured sky. Each step hummed beneath Elara's feet, alive with the Tower's pulse. She climbed, her sword steady at her side, her breaths sharp and controlled.
At the top, the Floating City awaited.
And she swore, with every step she took, that she would not let it have Ethan. Not forever.
Her heart still ached with the words unsaid. But one day, when the Tower could no longer tear them apart, she would say them.
Even if it destroyed her.
The Tower groaned.
The City shifted.
And far away, across worlds, two marks pulsed in unison, waiting for the storm yet to come.
The world cracked apart.
Ethan and Elara were torn from the light together, pulled deeper into the Tower's endless storm. The bridge dissolved beneath their feet, fragments of stone scattering into nothing, leaving them suspended in a chaos of shifting sky.
The Tower roared. The storm screamed.
And then.
Ethan hit the ground hard, lungs seizing, light burning in his eyes until the world reformed around him.
The couch. The table. The stack of unpaid bills.
His apartment. Again.
His stomach lurched. He gripped his wrist as though to rip the mark off his skin, but the faint burn was still there, a cruel reminder. Across his lap, Elara's sword hummed faintly, utterly out of place in this suffocatingly normal room.
"Elara…" His voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
He could still feel her presence, faint but undeniable, like a tether straining across impossible distance. She was still inside. Still fighting. And he wasn't there.
"Ethan?"
His head jerked up.
Sofia stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her expression sharper than the last time. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, but beneath it was anger, a storm of her own.
"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Hours this time. Just… gone. And you come back like nothing happened?"
Ethan tried to stand, but his knees nearly buckled. "Sofia, I."
"You what?" she snapped, cutting him off. "Do you think I don't notice? Do you think I can just keep pretending this is fine?"
Her hands trembled at her sides. "I can't do this anymore, Ethan. I really can't."
The words landed heavier than any blow.
He wanted to tell her everything, the Tower, the mark, Elara's scream still echoing in his chest, but how? How could he make her understand something that sounded like madness?
Instead, all he managed was a broken whisper: "I'm sorry."
Sofia laughed bitterly. "You always are."
She turned away, bracing her hands on the counter as though she needed it to keep from falling apart. "You were gone for two days before. Do you know how many times I almost called the police? And now this? What am I supposed to tell our daughter when she asks why Daddy keeps disappearing?"
The mark on his wrist flared, searing like fire. The shard on the table pulsed faintly, mocking him, reminding him that the Tower hadn't let him go.
Ethan closed his eyes, forcing air into his lungs. The Tower was tearing him apart piece by piece. Sofia's trust. His family. His sanity. And now… maybe Elara too.
"Who the hell is she?"
His eyes snapped open. Sofia was staring at him now, her voice sharp as glass.
"Elara. You said her name. Who is she?"
Ethan's heart stopped. The name hung between them like a curse.
He couldn't answer. Couldn't lie. Couldn't tell the truth.
Sofia's face crumpled. For a moment she looked less angry than broken. "You can't even say it." She turned, shaking her head. "God, Ethan… what are you doing to us?"
Her footsteps retreated, leaving him in silence with only the sword across his knees and the shard pulsing faintly like a dying heartbeat.
His chest ached. He pressed a trembling hand to his wrist, as though he could smother the burn of the mark, smother the truth.
But the truth would not be smothered.
Elara was still inside. Still calling for him.
And he couldn't let her fight alone.
Elara
The silence after Ethan vanished was unbearable.
Elara stayed on her knees at the base of the shattered gate, her hands trembling against the cold stone. She had screamed until her throat was raw, until no sound would come. But the void had swallowed him whole.
Now there was nothing. Only emptiness.
Her chest heaved. She touched the crescent mark on her wrist, it still burned faintly, pulsing as though tethered to something far away. Proof. Proof that he was alive, that the Tower hadn't truly taken him.
But proof wasn't enough.
Her sword felt heavier than ever as she forced herself to stand. The Floating City loomed above, its towers like spears piercing the fractured sky. Bridges bent and reformed, stairways of light spiraling upward into impossible heights. The whole place was alive, shifting, waiting.
Her path was clear: up.
The Tower had stolen Ethan, but it had left her a road. She would climb. She would fight.
And she would not stop until she found him again.
Her throat still ached with the words she hadn't spoken. The words the Tower had stolen from her. But she swore, next time, she wouldn't hesitate.
Even if it destroyed her.
The Floating City was unlike anything she had seen before. Its streets were paved with shifting glass that rippled under her steps, reflecting hundreds of versions of herself in fractured shards. Its towers were impossibly tall, built of light and shadow woven together like strands of silk.
As Elara moved deeper, she realized the City wasn't empty. Shadows drifted through the streets, vague humanoid forms that melted away when she drew near. Whispers followed her, mocking, pleading, accusing, until her mark flared and silenced them for a breath.
At the heart of the City, a storm gathered.
Lightning clawed across the fractured sky, striking towers and sending cracks racing through their surfaces. Bridges shattered into fragments, only to reform again in new, twisted shapes. The air vibrated with a pressure that sank into her bones.
This was no simple trial. The Tower was shifting into something greater, something final.
And she was walking straight into it.
Ethan
He couldn't sit still.
The sword lay across his lap, humming faintly. The shard pulsed on the table. His mark burned against his wrist. Every piece of him screamed that Elara was still inside, still reaching for him.
But Sofia's words echoed louder. Who is she? What are you doing to us?
He raked a hand through his hair, standing abruptly. The RealmLink lay where he had dropped it. Cold. Silent. Waiting.
If he put it on again, he might vanish for hours. Days. Maybe forever. He could lose Sofia. His family. His last tie to the life he was supposed to protect.
But if he didn't… Elara was lost.
His pulse thundered. His jaw tightened.
He picked up the RealmLink, sliding it over his eyes.
The world shattered.
Elara
At the top of the stairs of light, the storm broke.
The sky split open, light crashing down like rivers of fire. Towers collapsed, bridges disintegrated, the whole Floating City tearing itself apart.
Elara gripped her sword, forcing her way across a shattering bridge, shards of stone plummeting into the abyss below.
And then.
A voice cut through the storm.
"Ethan."
Her heart lurched. She spun, searching, but only shadows waited.
Her wrist flared, her mark burning brighter than ever. She dropped to her knees, clutching it, her throat tight with words she could no longer hold back.
"I."
The air trembled. Her voice broke into the storm.
"I love you."
For the first time, she let it out. Raw. Honest. Terrifying.
"Ethan!"
The storm swallowed her scream. The City shattered.
And Ethan.
Was gone.