The light had a voice now.Not a single tone, not even a sound, but a feeling that lived under Maya's skin — a vibration that wasn't the hum of machines or the tremor of fear. It was recognition.
By the time she and Aarav reached the valley, the roads had vanished.Half the landscape looked melted; half of it had never existed before. Buildings had turned to spires of glass and stone, cars petrified into sculptures of silver ash.
And in the middle of it all stood the pillar — the seam Arjun had become.
It wasn't a column anymore. It was a heart.
Every pulse of it sent ripples across the air, turning the wind to light and the light to breath.
Maya stopped at the edge of the scorched ground, unable to step closer.Aarav clung to her hand, staring wide-eyed at the horizon that wasn't sure which world it belonged to.
"Is he in there?" the boy whispered.
"Yes," she said.The word broke on her tongue.
Around them, people had gathered — soldiers from Arjun's realm and humans from hers, all dazed, silent, unsure whether to pray or run.
None of them moved closer to the pillar.It repelled and beckoned in the same breath.
And through its glow, Maya saw flickers of faces — soldiers, kings, children, all moving in endless loops of memory.Every story that had ever touched the seam was there, woven into the light like threads in a living tapestry.
But one face stayed constant.
Arjun's.
She took a step forward.
The air thickened immediately, dense as honey. Every sound dulled, replaced by the steady rhythm that had haunted her dreams for months — two heartbeats, one human, one impossible, trying to stay in sync.
"Maya," a voice murmured inside the light.Not loud. Not even desperate. Just there.
Her throat tightened. "I'm here."
"Don't come closer," the voice said. "It's not safe."
"I don't care."
"The seam is alive now. It feeds on contact."
"Then it can feed on me," she said. "You don't get to disappear again."
She stepped fully into the glow.
For a moment, the world blinked.
Heat enveloped her — not painful, but absolute.The air tasted like storm rain.Every nerve in her body sparked as the light soaked through her skin, searching, recognizing.
And then she saw him.
Not solid. Not ghost.Arjun's shape hung suspended, hollow and radiant, the outline of a man filled with living starlight.
He looked at her with eyes that had forgotten what color meant.
"Maya," he said again, and the light around him quivered, as though the sound itself might shatter him.
She reached for him, but her hand passed through light instead of flesh.
"I told you not to come."
"I told you I'd find you."
Her voice broke. "You tried to fix everything, and now you're gone."
His expression softened. "I'm still here. Just… different."
"Then come back."
"I can't."
"You can."
The light flickered — as if arguing.
He closed his eyes, pain rippling through his form. "If I leave, it collapses. The worlds will tear. Everything I held together will burn."
She shook her head, tears scattering like small diamonds in the glow. "And if you stay, you'll die anyway. Maybe slower, but you'll still die here, alone."
He smiled faintly. "Then let me die for something."
She stepped closer. The pillar's current surged, wrapping around her legs, pulling her deeper into its rhythm."No," she said. "Not like this. You don't get to decide for both of us."
The seam shuddered violently — the entire valley glowing as if breathing through her defiance.Every mirrored surface on Earth, every rune in the other world, began to tremble in resonance.
Aarav screamed from the edge of the light, "Mom!"
She turned, saw him reaching toward her — one hand outstretched, his small body haloed by the golden haze.For a heartbeat, she saw him twice: once as her son, once as a child in the other world, born under twin moons, holding a wooden toy sword.
The light wanted to choose.
Her world, or his.Her life, or Arjun's.
"Maya," Arjun said again, voice breaking. "Please. Let go. It's the only way the seam will rest."
She stared at him — this man she had never really known and yet had carried inside her for months.She remembered his first whisper through the glass, his hands against hers, the guilt that had mirrored her own.
And she realized something then.
The seam hadn't chosen him by accident.It had chosen both of them — because they were the same: two people who couldn't stop trying to fix the worlds that hurt them.
Maybe it didn't need one to die.Maybe it needed both to forgive.
She reached through the light again.This time, she didn't try to pull him free.She simply took his hand — or the idea of his hand — and whispered, "Then don't hold the seam together. Hold me. Let it go."
For an instant, nothing happened.Then the light convulsed.
It didn't collapse.It exhaled.
The ground steadied.The skies separated — one pale blue, one crimson, each retreating to its own horizon.The pillar dimmed until it was only a gentle glow between their clasped hands.
Arjun's shape grew fainter."Maya," he said softly, "whatever happens next… thank you."
"For what?"
"For remembering me long enough to let me go."
The light shimmered one final time, gold fading into white.Then he was gone.
When the brightness cleared, Maya stood alone in the center of a quiet valley.The pillar was gone.The sky was whole again.
She looked down.The soil under her feet glowed faintly in the shape of two handprints.
Aarav ran to her, tears streaking his face. "Mom! You're okay!"
She fell to her knees and held him so tightly he squeaked. "I'm okay," she whispered. "We're okay."
Above them, the dawn sky burned clear and ordinary.But in its heart — for just a moment — a single shimmer lingered, the outline of a man watching over them before fading into the light.