Ash floated through the Cradle Rift like silent snow, weightless and suffocating. Every flake that touched Riven's skin felt like a ghost, whispering of what had been lost.
The ruined bridge creaked beneath his steps, stone and steel scorched by battle. Ahead, the Emberwake Threshold shimmered—a curtain of molten gold and flickering glyphlight, warping the very air around it. And beyond that veil, she waited.
Lira.
The thought of her name alone nearly buckled his knees.
Aeris landed beside him, wings of wind and steel folding tight. She didn't speak right away. Her eyes scanned the carnage behind them—the shattered ridge, the bodies of those who tried to stop them. Her voice was brittle when it came.
"They sealed the pass. No one else is coming."
Trapped. No way back. No help left.
Riven nodded, his jaw tight. "Then we end this here."
"You're wounded." Her gaze swept to the blood soaking through his ribs.
"It's nothing."
"Don't lie to me, Riven. Not now."
He didn't respond. He couldn't. If he spoke the truth—that every breath burned, that his limbs were screaming, that he was terrified—he might fall apart. And he couldn't afford that. Not now. Not when she was so close.
A memory rose unbidden—Lira's laughter echoing in the rain, the day he failed his first glyph test. She'd wrapped a scarf around his bruised hand and whispered, "You're not broken, you're just not finished yet."
He clenched his fists. "I have to see her."
Aeris laid a hand on his arm. Not as a fighter. Not as a commander. As a friend. "Then let's bring her back."
A screech of metal and magic snapped their focus ahead. From the flames stepped glyphborn—twelve in total. Ouro Seraphim elite. Their eyes glowed crimson, and every motion was a ritual of violence.
Aeris drew her blade. "They're stalling."
"For him," Riven said. "Elandir."
A moment passed between them—silent understanding.
Then the fight began.
Riven dove forward, Shard Step cracking space around him. He moved like lightning through smoke, carving paths in flesh and air. Blood. Sparks. Steel. Glyphfire.
Aeris followed close—wind glyphs forming crescents of devastation. They fought as one, fluid and desperate, backs brushing, blades whirling. But even in the chaos, Riven's mind kept drifting back to her.
Lira, with her stubborn fire and soft smile. Lira, screaming as she was dragged into the void.
He would not fail her again.
A halberd tore into his shoulder—he cried out, staggering. Aeris caught him, blasted the attacker away, and screamed his name.
He didn't hear it. All he saw was that last look in Lira's eyes—pleading.
"Don't stop fighting."
He rose with a roar, glyphlight blazing from every vein. His fury became power, his pain a beacon. He unleashed a Veilbreak that cracked the bridge beneath him. The glyphborn scattered like ash.
Only one remained—a masked priest in golden robes.
"You break upon sacred ground," the priest intoned. "For what? A girl lost in the glyph soul?"
"She's not lost," Riven snarled. "She's waiting."
The priest raised his arms. Flames rose, twisting skyward, tearing the Rift apart.
The Emberwake Threshold began to collapse.
Aeris grabbed his hand. "If we wait, it'll shut. Go!"
Riven didn't think. He ran.
Fire kissed his skin. The veil consumed him.
Then silence.
He emerged into a chamber of light and glyphglass, floating like a star between dimensions. The air thrummed with heartbeat magic. Glyph veins pulsed like arteries in crystal walls.
And at the center of it all… a cocoon of fire.
Suspended within, Lira.
Her hair floated around her like silk. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Wings of glyphlight curved gently from her back. She looked older. Stronger. But still her.
Riven staggered forward, a sob catching in his throat. His hand reached toward her, trembling.
"Lira…"
So many things he'd never said. So many nights he'd cursed himself for not being strong enough to stop them. He had burned his soul to the edge of madness to get here—and it had all been worth it.
A voice—smooth and cold—slithered from the shadows.
"You're too late."
Riven turned.
Elandir stood at the far end of the sanctum. No longer in illusion, no longer hiding. Robes of gold. Eyes like bleeding stars.
The Glyphfather.
"She is awakening into something far greater," Elandir said. "She no longer belongs to you."
Riven's pain turned to fury. "You don't get to decide who she is."
Elandir smiled.
"Then stop me."