The rain had not stopped for three days. Elyndra's skies bled silver tears, washing away the dust of war but not the ache that lingered in Elara's chest. She stood on the balcony of the citadel, her hands trembling as she traced the sigil Lucien had carved into her wrist before he vanished into the Rift.
The mark pulsed faintly—an echo of life, or perhaps a cruel illusion.
He's still out there, she whispered, voice breaking against the wind.
Below her, the ancient city hummed with fear. The sky-rifts were multiplying, leaking shadows that slithered like living smoke. Elyndra's heart—its core of light—was weakening. And with every flicker, she felt Lucien's essence dim inside her veins.
Her mentor, the blind oracle, approached quietly.
"Elara, the council demands your presence. They believe the Shadowborn are rising again."
"I know." Her voice was steady but hollow. "Because I can feel him with them."
The oracle tilted her head. "Then you know what must be done."
Elara's fingers closed around the obsidian pendant hanging from her throat. It had been Lucien's. The last thing he'd thrown toward her before the Rift swallowed him whole. "I know," she said softly. "And I'll do it… even if it kills me."
Lucien
Somewhere beyond time and reason, he awoke.
The air was heavy with ash. The sky was an endless red wound, and the ground pulsed like a dying heartbeat. Every breath burned like swallowing fire.
Lucien dragged himself from the crater, his body trembling, his mind unraveling. The shadows here whispered, not in voices but in memories—his memories. Every sin, every desire, every moment with her.
Elara…
He fell to his knees, pressing his hand to his chest where the bond-mark glowed faintly. He could feel her grief bleeding through the mark—raw, aching, alive.
But there was something else in that connection. A pull. A call. The same way gravity pulls the moon toward the sea.
"Don't come for me," he whispered into the black wind. "You'll never survive here."
The shadows laughed.
From the haze, a figure emerged—cloaked in smoke and flame. Eyes like liquid obsidian, lips curling in cruel amusement.
"You still cling to the girl of light," the figure hissed. "Pathetic. You could rule this place, Lucien. You could be its king."
Lucien met the creature's gaze, rage simmering in his throat. "And become like you?"
The creature smiled. "No, Lucien. Become what you already are."
Elara
The temple gates opened with a deafening groan. Inside, the Heart of Elyndra pulsed weakly—a dying star contained within crystal.
Elara knelt before it, closing her eyes. "Show me the path to him."
The light responded like it recognized her grief. Streams of gold wrapped around her wrists, seeping under her skin until the air shimmered with images—Lucien in a burning realm, his body scarred, his soul unraveling.
Tears welled in her eyes. "He's fading."
"Then save him," the oracle said behind her, her voice trembling. "But remember, child—if you cross the Rift again, the bond will consume you both."
Elara rose, her expression calm but her heart screaming. "Then let it."
The world shuddered as the portal began to form. Thunder split the heavens, and the skies of Elyndra tore open. For the briefest moment, she heard him whisper her name through the storm.
Elara… don't.
But she stepped forward anyway. Because some loves are not born of light—they're forged in the fire between worlds.
Lucien
The shadow-king's voice echoed in his skull.
"She's coming for you, boy. Even now she bleeds through the Rift."
Lucien's chest clenched. "No… she wouldn't."
The darkness smiled. "She already has."
And then he felt her.
A tear in the fabric of that cursed world. A heartbeat pounding against his own. The bond-mark flared with such intensity he screamed, collapsing to the ground as light burst from his veins.
Don't come here, Elara, he thought desperately. Don't trade your light for me.
But her light was already there—cutting through the black like dawn breaking after the longest night.
Elara & Lucien
When the portal opened, the realm screamed. The storm turned to fire, and the shadows recoiled. Elara stepped through, her silver hair whipping around her face, eyes blazing with determination and despair.
Lucien stood before her, half-human, half-shadow, torn between worlds. His voice cracked. "You shouldn't have come."
"I told you," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I'd burn the world if it meant finding you."
He reached out, trembling, their fingers brushing. Where they touched, the bond ignited like lightning. The ground beneath them split. The entire shadow realm shuddered.
"Elara, it's not me anymore," he gasped. "This place—it's inside me. If you stay—"
"Then we'll fall together," she said.
And for a moment, everything went silent. Just two souls clinging to each other against the impossible. Light and shadow, pain and love, creation and ruin.
Then the explosion came. A roar of power that shattered realms.
When the smoke cleared—there was no sign of them. Only whispers drifting across the dying world.
"Whispers of Elyndra…