The sky split open, sharper than ever. White and black threads twisted like ribbons in a violent dance, spinning shards of crystal across the air. Salemadon ran across the glowing circular platform, Threads extending from his armor to catch the flying debris.
"Keep moving!" he shouted to Brughan. Althara followed, dodging shards of fractured light.
But the cracks were growing faster now. A massive shard, bigger than a house, plummeted toward Salemadon, spinning and humming with dangerous energy. He lunged, but even his Threads could not hold it.
And then — it struck.
Time slowed. Dust and sparks filled the air. The shard seemed unstoppable.
Then a flash of silver-white light cut through the chaos.
Salemadon's eyes widened. The shard stopped midair, hovering as if frozen. A figure stepped forward from the twisting threads. She moved like wind: light, precise, and deadly. Her armor glimmered faintly under the fractured sky, threads bending subtly around her fingertips.
Salemadon stared.
"Who…?" he whispered.
She spoke softly, but her voice carried the weight of a storm.
"Mahira."
Her eyes glowed faintly blue, reflecting the chaos around them. With a graceful movement, she extended her hands, and the shard tilted gently, settling harmlessly into a thread-woven cage in the air.
Brughan stumbled back, jaw open. "She… she stopped it?"
Althara's lips parted in surprise. "The Threads… they obey her too."
Mahira's gaze swept across the trio. She did not smile. She did not blink. Her presence was commanding, otherworldly.
"This place is unstable," she said. "You cannot fight the fracture alone."
Salemadon stepped forward, white cape fluttering behind him. "Who are you? And why help us?"
Mahira's eyes glinted. "Because the fracture chooses its own players. And you are one of them. I am here to make sure you survive the first round."
The Battle Begins
Suddenly, another shard descended — jagged, black as night. Threads from Salemadon and Mahira clashed around it, creating a storm of light and shadow. Sparks flew, slicing the air. The shard split into smaller fragments, each spinning like a deadly top.
Mahira moved like water, guiding the shards into threads that twisted around her. Every movement was fluid, cinematic, precise — she was not just fighting, she was performing.
Salemadon mirrored her motion, Threads dancing in response to hers. Together, they formed a giant lattice of light, holding shards, balancing floating debris, and stabilizing the platform beneath them.
Brughan jumped to the side, dodging a spinning shard, and shouted, "We can't keep this up forever!"
Mahira's eyes flicked toward him. "Then trust your Pahtem."
At her command, the Threads around Salemadon pulsed brighter. He could feel his power synchronize with hers — not combining, but echoing.
Suddenly, the floating shards began shattering themselves, crashing into smaller pieces that floated harmlessly around the platform. The fracture's rhythm slowed. The sky above no longer twisted violently, but instead shimmered like fragile glass.
Mahira's Warning
Breathing lightly, Mahira stepped closer to Salemadon. The wind played with her cape-like fabric, threads following her movements as if alive.
"Listen carefully," she said. "The fracture will return. And when it does, it will test more than your strength. It will test your choices."
Salemadon nodded, feeling a deep resonance. Mahira was not just a fighter — she was a teacher of chaos, showing him that survival was more than power.
Althara looked at her, wide-eyed. "Who are you really?"
Mahira glanced toward the sky. "A guardian. For now. But even I answer to forces older than these worlds. Forces that will not wait."
Her eyes met Salemadon's. "Do not underestimate what is coming. Pahtem alone will not be enough."
Then, without another word, she stepped back. The threads around her shimmered and dissolved, leaving only a faint trace of silver in the air.
Salemadon blinked. She was gone as suddenly as she had appeared.
Aftermath
The platform shook gently, dust falling from the air. The shards that had once threatened to destroy them were now harmless, scattered like fallen stars.
Brughan exhaled. "That… was insane. Who is she?"
Salemadon looked toward the fractured sky, where cosmic threads still rippled faintly. "Someone who will be important," he said quietly. "And someone who knows more about the fracture than even I do."
Althara placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we need to be ready. If she's right… this is only the beginning."
The wind carried a faint hum, almost musical, like the threads themselves were whispering a warning. Salemadon clenched his fists.
"Then we fight," he said. "And we survive. Whatever comes."
The stars above shimmered. The Gemini constellation glimmered brighter than ever. And somewhere, far beyond sight, Mahira watched silently, waiting for the right moment to intervene again.
Reality is tearing, and sometimes the only person who can stitch it back together appears out of nowhere.
The fracture had tested them. A new guardian had appeared. And the world whispered: the real challenge has only just begun.