Dawn arrived weak and blood-soaked over the valley.The sky refused to brighten fully; instead it hung low and sullen, the crimson fractures pulsing like veins under thin, fevered skin. Mist coiled around the base of the obsidian spire, turning its towering form into a ghostly silhouette that seemed to breathe with the wind. The air tasted thick—ozone, wet iron, and the faint metallic promise of something ancient waking up. Every inhale carried a low vibration from deep below, as though the earth itself had developed a heartbeat too fast for comfort.Senna and Azraath had traveled through the night without stopping for more than a few stolen minutes. They traded silences more often than words now. The standing stones' warning echoed between them: three dawns until the alignment's last light. After this morning's weak sunrise, only two full dawns remained. Time had grown teeth again, and they felt every bite.The pines thinned gradually, then vanished altogether. The ground turned to bare black rock—smooth in places, jagged in others, still warm from whatever heat radiated up from below. The valley sloped sharply downward toward a central rise that dominated the landscape: the obsidian spire itself.It rose like a broken fang thrust upward from the world's wound—taller than any tower Senna had ever seen in her loops, smooth and mirror-black on one face, cruelly jagged and weeping slow trails of black ichor on the other. At its base lay a perfect circle of absolute darkness. No altar waited here. No carved runes or ceremonial flames. Just raw, endless absence that tugged at the edges of vision and made the mind want to look away.Senna halted at the lip of the final descent. Wind tore at the shredded remnants of her ritual gown, whipping silk ribbons around her bare legs."It's… smaller than I pictured," she said, voice almost lost in the wind.Azraath stopped beside her, shadows trailing faintly from the hem of his coat like smoke that refused to rise."Size was never the measure," he replied quietly. "Depth always was."The spire's reflective side caught their distorted images—stretched tall and thin, almost lovers trapped in a funhouse mirror. Senna reached out instinctively and laid her palm flat against the obsidian surface.It was warm.Not stone-warm from sun.Body-warm. Pulse-warm."Alive," she whispered."Always has been," Azraath answered. "The wound was never empty. It had appetite long before we gave it a name or a prophecy."They began the descent together—slow, deliberate steps down the sloping black rock. The ground grew softer underfoot, spongy and yielding, like walking across old, congealed blood. Small fissures opened and closed with each footfall, exhaling thin red mist that curled around their ankles like curious fingers. The pull returned—not violent like the gate's earlier tantrums, but patient, almost seductive. Invisible threads brushing the inside of her ribs, whispering come closer, come home.Azraath's hand found hers without preamble. Their fingers laced tightly. Neither commented on it. The contact simply existed—necessary, grounding, real.Halfway down the slope the illusions began.No slow seduction this time. No gentle build.Sound came first—Lirien's laugh, bright and startling, echoing from every direction at once. Senna felt Azraath flinch beside her, a minute tremor that traveled through their joined hands.Scent followed—pomegranate, thick and sweet, undercut by copper and crushed herbs.Then sight.Figures rose from the red mist—ghostly, translucent, dozens upon dozens. Every version of Senna from every loop. Some stood silent and bleeding. Some laughed hysterically. Some reached toward Azraath with open, accusing hands, mouths moving in silent pleas or curses.You failed me.
You killed me.
You loved her more than you ever loved any of us.Azraath's jaw clenched so hard she heard the faint crack of teeth.He thrust one hand forward. Shadow exploded outward in a perfect, defensive circle—shoving the ghosts back, dissolving them where darkness touched light. But more rose instantly, faster, angrier.The visions shifted—turning fully on Senna now.She saw herself as Lirien. Long hair braided with healing herbs. Soft, capable hands stained with salve. Standing before a younger Azraath—armor-less, eyes still capable of something like hope. The knife in his hand shook. He hesitated.The vision-Azarath spoke in a voice cracked with pain."I cannot do this."Vision-Lirien smiled—sad, gentle, heartbreaking."Then don't."The knife fell from numb fingers. The gate roared open behind them. Reality tore like wet cloth. Lirien's body shattered into blinding light—most consumed in an instant, a single bright fragment screaming across impossible distances, flung into other worlds, other lives, waiting to be reborn.Senna gasped. The memory wasn't hers, yet it sliced through her chest like it belonged there.She staggered. Azraath caught her elbow, steadying her against his side."Do not look," he said urgently. "It is mining every doubt we have ever buried."But the gate pressed harder.The visions merged—Lirien and Senna overlapping until they became one seamless face. The composite woman turned to Azraath with eyes that held every death, every hesitation."You will fail again," she said in two voices layered into one. "You always fail the ones you love."Azraath's shadows flickered—uncertain for the first time Senna had ever seen.She stepped directly in front of him, breaking the line of sight."Stop it," she told the gate. Loud. Clear. Fearless. "You don't get to wear our faces. You don't get to twist our pain into your weapon."The composite figure tilted its head—mocking, almost amused.Then give me what I want. Bleed. Seal. End this farce.Senna laughed—short, sharp, edged with something dangerous."No."The gate howled—true sound this time, raw and furious.The obsidian spire trembled. Cracks raced upward along its length like lightning trapped in glass. The valley floor buckled violently. Fissures split wide—glowing red, exhaling searing heat. Reality tore again—not metaphor, but literal folds in space. Ground lifted and bent like torn parchment. Sky folded inward. Gravity flipped in violent pockets—Senna's hair lifted straight up, then slammed downward. Azraath anchored her with one arm locked around her waist, the other slamming shadow into the earth like desperate roots.The illusions rushed forward as one screaming tide of light and blood.Azraath roared.Shadow detonated from every inch of him—blacker than absence, colder than oblivion. It met the tide and pushed. Illusions shattered against it like glass on stone. Reality fought back—folding tighter, trying to crush them both into nothing.Senna pressed her palm flat over Azraath's heart—hard, grounding."Hold," she commanded.He looked down at her—eyes wild, violet streaked with panic and something deeper."I cannot lose—""You won't."She rose on her toes and kissed him—hard, claiming, pouring forty-seven deaths, every scream, every sarcastic deflection, every defiant heartbeat into the press of her mouth.The gate shrieked—wounded, furious, fracturing.The folding stopped.Fissures slowed.Illusions dissolved into harmless sparks that drifted upward and died.Azraath's shadows steadied—stronger now, protective.When they broke apart, both were breathing like survivors of a shipwreck.The valley remained broken—cracked, folded, wrong—but it had stopped collapsing inward on itself.Senna rested her forehead against his."One more dawn," she whispered.Azraath nodded—once, sharp, resolute.He looked toward the spire's distant peak.The sky above it was clearing—just a fraction. A thin band of pale gold edged the crimson.The final alignment was coming.The gate went unnaturally quiet—dangerously so.No whispers. No visions.Only waiting.Senna laced her fingers through Azraath's once more."We finish this tomorrow," she said.He squeezed her hand in silent vow."Together."They sat again at the lip of the wound—closer now, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist, legs dangling over nothing.The spire loomed above—bent but unbroken.The gate watched from below—silent, seething, starving.And in the hush before the last light,two people who had rewritten death itselfprepared to rewrite eternity.