Aren felt it before anyone else noticed.
Not pain.
Not hunger.
Distance.
He stood at the edge of the Sanctuary's inner bridge at dawn, hands resting lightly on the cold stone rail, watching mist crawl through the valley below. The world looked beautiful in the way fragile things often did—too soft to last.
Behind him, the Sanctuary breathed. Stone. Light. People moving on with their grief and their hope tangled together.
And yet—
Something was slipping.
Aren pressed his palm to his chest.
The Mirror did not respond the way it used to.
It wasn't silent.
It was… loosening.
Like a knot slowly untying itself.
"Elara," he whispered.
She wasn't there.
Kael wasn't either.
For the first time since the Mirror awakened, Aren was alone with it.
That was when the Devourer spoke.
Not as a whisper.
As a truth.
"You are tired."
Aren closed his eyes.
"Yes," he said aloud, surprising himself. "I am."
The voice did not press.
It did not tempt.
It simply waited.
"You held when others broke," it continued.
"You steadied when others burned.
And no one ever asked what it cost you."
Aren's throat tightened.
Memories surfaced—
The first time he anchored Kael's hunger.
The nights he woke shaking so others could sleep.
The pain he swallowed quietly because Elara needed strength, not fear.
"I chose this," Aren whispered.
The Devourer's tone was almost gentle.
"And what has it given you?"
Aren opened his eyes.
Nothing had appeared.
No shadow.
No figure.
Just the truth hanging in the air like frost.
"I don't want anything," Aren said quietly. "I just want it to stop hurting."
The words echoed.
Somewhere deep within the Mirror, a thread strained.
The Fading
Elara felt it an hour later.
A sharp, nauseating pull through the bond.
Not pain.
Absence.
She dropped the cup in her hands as porcelain shattered at her feet.
"Aren," she breathed.
Kael was beside her instantly. "What is it?"
"He's… far," she whispered. "Too far."
They ran.
By the time they reached the bridge, Aren was already kneeling, hands braced against the stone as if the ground were trying to pull him away.
"Aren!" Elara cried.
He looked up at her—and smiled.
That terrified her more than anything else.
"Elara," he said softly. "I think I understand now."
She slid to her knees in front of him, gripping his shoulders.
"No. No understanding without us. Not like this."
Kael crouched beside them, shadows coiling anxiously. "Aren, talk to me. What did it say?"
Aren's gaze flicked briefly—guiltily—toward the empty air.
"It didn't threaten," he said. "It didn't lie."
Elara's hands shook. "That's how it gets in."
He nodded faintly. "I know."
The Mirror pulsed weakly in Elara's chest—uneven, faltering.
"Aren," she whispered, voice breaking. "You're slipping."
He exhaled slowly.
"I don't think I'm being taken," he said. "I think… I'm being released."
Kael went still.
"No," he said harshly. "You don't get to decide that alone."
Aren looked at him gently.
"I already did," he said. "Every time I chose to hold the line."
Elara shook her head violently.
"I can pull you back," she sobbed. "I can open the Mirror—"
"No," Aren said quickly, gripping her wrists with surprising strength. "If you do, it will take you instead."
The Devourer stirred.
Not triumph.
Anticipation.
"He understands," it murmured.
Elara screamed.
"GET OUT OF HIM!"
The voice did not respond.
It didn't need to.
The Truth Aren Kept
Aren's breathing grew shallow.
"Elara," he whispered urgently. "There's something I never told you."
Her heart shattered.
"No secrets. Not now."
"I didn't tell you," he continued, "because I was afraid you'd try to save me."
Kael clenched his fists. "What are you talking about?"
Aren's eyes softened.
"The Mirror never meant for three anchors to last," he said. "One was always meant to burn out."
Silence fell like a blade.
Nyx appeared at the far end of the bridge, face pale. "Aren—what do you mean?"
He smiled faintly. "The First Healer wrote it in the margins. Not prophecy. Design."
Elara's breath came in broken gasps.
"You knew," she whispered.
"Yes," Aren said. "And I stayed anyway."
Kael shook his head violently. "NO."
Aren looked at him with quiet affection.
"You taught me restraint," he said. "You taught me how to live with pain without becoming it."
Elara sobbed openly now.
"You don't get to leave me," she cried. "I need you."
Aren reached up, brushing her cheek gently.
"And you taught me," he whispered, "that staying doesn't always mean surviving."
The Mirror flared one last time—soft, mournful.
The Devourer did not touch Aren.
It simply opened a door.
Aren leaned forward, forehead resting against Elara's.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For seeing me."
Then—
The bond snapped.
Not violently.
Quietly.
Like a thread slipping free.
Aren collapsed.
After the Anchor Falls
Elara screamed.
Kael caught Aren, shaking him, shouting his name, shadows lashing out uselessly.
"He's still breathing," Nyx whispered urgently, kneeling. "But the anchor—"
"It's gone," Elara sobbed.
The Mirror howled inside her—not hunger, not power.
Grief.
The Devourer withdrew.
Not wounded.
Not triumphant.
Satisfied.
Because it had learned something new.
It didn't need to corrupt Aren.
It only needed to let him go.
What Remains
Aren lived.
But he did not wake.
His body remained—but the bond that tied him to the Mirror was gone.
Elara sat at his bedside long into the night, numb and hollow.
Kael stood behind her, shattered in silence.
"This is my fault," Elara whispered. "I taught him to refuse… and he refused himself."
Kael placed a trembling hand on her shoulder.
"No," he said hoarsely. "You taught him to choose."
She turned to him, eyes empty.
"And what if his choice destroys us?"
Kael didn't answer.
Because somewhere deep within the Mirror—
The structure shifted.
The triangle collapsed.
Leaving only two anchors.
And a space that should never have been empty.