Cain gripped the golden thread. It hummed, warm against his skin.
Leth stepped beside him. "When you cross, remember one thing. Don't call his name. Names are invitations."
"I won't."
"And don't run." Leth's voice flattened. "His realm responds to momentum. Fear makes you move fast. Fast turns to lost."
Cain met Leth's gaze. "What about courage?"
"That," Leth said, wings sparking briefly, "makes the path stronger."
Cain nodded.
Then he pulled.
The golden thread tore the gray world open in a single clean seam. Light poured through—not bright, not gentle, but sharp and steady like the edge of a promise.
Cain stepped into it without hesitation.
Leth followed.
And the tear sealed behind them.
