The first petition arrived at dawn.
It was not written on parchment or sealed with wax. It came in the form of a woman standing at the Sanctuary gates, barefoot, dust on her cloak, eyes hollow with sleepless nights.
She did not shout.
She did not beg.
She simply said, "I was told you could end it."
Elara stood above the gates, looking down.
"End what?" she asked gently.
The woman lifted her chin. "The pain."
Silence rippled outward like a held breath.
Kael's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword beside her—not in threat, but in dread.
"You were told wrong," Elara said quietly.
The woman shook her head. "No. I was told you would listen."
And that—more than anything—terrified Elara.
The Question Spreads
By noon, there were more.
A farmer whose land had failed three seasons in a row.
A Watcher who could no longer sleep without hearing screams.
A mother whose child had never spoken again after the Hollowborn raids.
They did not ask for magic.
They asked for permission.
"Is it wrong," one man whispered, "to want it to stop?"
Elara felt the Mirror stir—not violently, not eagerly.
Attentive.
She answered every question the same way.
"I don't decide for you."
Some left angry.
Some left relieved.
Some stayed.
By nightfall, word spread beyond the Sanctuary.
Not that a savior had risen.
But that someone refused to lie.
The Choice No One Prepared For
The Council convened in emergency session.
"This cannot continue," Elder Valryn said sharply. "You are becoming a focal point."
Elara did not deny it.
"They are projecting onto you," Seran added. "Hope. Desperation. Authority."
Elara met their gazes steadily. "Then help me redirect it."
"To where?" Valryn demanded.
Elara inhaled slowly.
"To themselves."
Murmurs erupted.
Kael stepped forward. "She's right. The Devourer thrives on removing agency. So does blind faith."
Valryn's eyes narrowed. "And what do you propose instead?"
Elara's voice did not shake.
"We teach people how to choose with awareness."
Nyx frowned. "That sounds like philosophy, not defense."
"It's both," Elara replied. "The Devourer is offering a simplified world—no suffering, no struggle, no freedom. If people don't understand the cost, they'll accept it willingly."
"And if they do understand it," Valryn said quietly, "and still choose it?"
The room went still.
Elara swallowed.
"Then we let them," she said.
Kael turned sharply. "Elara—"
She faced him, pain flickering in her eyes. "Choice means choice. Even when it terrifies us."
Valryn studied her for a long moment.
"You would allow people to step into oblivion," she said.
"No," Elara answered softly. "I would allow them to step into truth."
The Two Anchors Strain
That night, the Mirror surged.
Not in attack.
In pressure.
Elara gasped, clutching her chest.
Kael caught her instantly. "It's pulling again."
"I know," she whispered. "It's reacting to the scale. To the number of people asking."
The bond between them tightened sharply—too tight.
Kael hissed, dropping to one knee. Shadows lashed out, cracking stone.
"Elara—stop—whatever you're doing—"
"I'm not doing anything!" she cried. "It's responding to them."
The Mirror flared between them—light and shadow twisting violently.
Aren, pale but upright, appeared in the doorway.
"It's happening," he said hoarsely. "The Mirror is synchronizing with the world's demand."
Elara looked at him, fear flooding her chest. "What does that mean?"
Aren swallowed. "If too many people seek an end at once… the Mirror may interpret it as consensus."
Kael's eyes went wide.
"Consensus for what?"
Aren met Elara's gaze.
"For closure."
The Devourer Returns — Not as an Enemy
Elara dreamed that night.
But this time, the Devourer did not hide.
It stood across from her in a vast, empty field beneath a pale sky.
No shadows.
No menace.
Only vastness.
"You see?" it said calmly.
"They are already asking."
Elara's hands trembled. "You manipulated them."
"No," the Devourer replied. "I stepped aside."
Images rippled across the field—people choosing silence, peace, sleep.
"Pain ends," it said. "Conflict ends. History ends."
Elara shook her head. "So does growth. Love. Change."
The Devourer tilted its head. "Are those worth endless suffering?"
She hesitated.
That was the danger.
The question was not cruel.
It was reasonable.
"You are tired," the Devourer said gently. "So is the world. Let me help you finish this."
Elara felt the Mirror pulse in response—drawn, uncertain.
"You don't want me," she said quietly. "You want permission."
The Devourer did not deny it.
"You are the only one who can give it freely," it said. "The only one whose refusal means something."
Elara's voice broke. "And Kael?"
The Devourer smiled faintly.
"He will follow you. He always does."
She woke with a gasp.
Kael was already awake, watching her.
"It spoke to you," he said.
She nodded.
"It's not trying to win anymore," she whispered. "It's trying to be chosen."
Kael pulled her into his arms, holding her fiercely.
"You are not alone in this decision," he said. "You never will be."
She clutched him tightly.
"But the world is," she whispered.
The Line She Draws
At sunrise, Elara stood before the gathered people at the Sanctuary gates.
Not elevated.
Not armored.
Just present.
"I can't end suffering for you," she said clearly. "Anyone who tells you they can is lying."
Murmurs rippled.
"But I can promise you this," she continued. "No voice that asks you to disappear will ever speak for me."
Some nodded.
Some cried.
Some turned away.
"And if you choose silence," Elara said softly, "know that it will be your choice. Not mine. Not the Devourer's."
The Mirror flared—but did not open.
Kael felt it too.
Aren exhaled in relief.
Far beneath the world—
The Devourer paused.
Because for the first time—
The world was no longer asking one question.
It was asking many.
And that made the ending uncertain.