The second choice came at dusk.
It did not arrive with a crowd.
It did not ask for permission.
It came quietly—like betrayal often does.
Elara was in the infirmary, sitting beside Aren's bed, fingers wrapped around a cup of cooling tea she had forgotten to drink. He slept more deeply now, breath steady but distant, like someone listening to a song from another room.
She leaned closer.
"I wish you'd argue with me," she whispered. "You always did."
Aren did not stir.
Behind her, footsteps approached—unhurried, familiar.
"Elara."
She turned.
Kael stood in the doorway.
For a heartbeat, relief flared in her chest. He had avoided her all day—had spoken only when necessary, his silence heavier than any accusation.
"You came," she said softly.
He nodded once.
"I need to talk to you."
Her stomach dropped.
"About what?"
He didn't answer immediately. He crossed the room and stood at Aren's bedside, looking down at the man who had anchored them both—who had burned himself away so they could keep standing.
"He saved us," Kael said quietly.
"Yes," Elara whispered.
"He chose to," Kael continued. "Again and again."
Elara's fingers tightened around the cup.
Kael turned to face her.
"So did Maerin."
The words struck like a blade.
Elara stood abruptly. "Don't."
"Why?" Kael asked, not unkindly. "Because it hurts? Or because it forces us to admit something uncomfortable?"
Her voice shook. "Because you're not being fair."
Kael's eyes were dark—tired, conflicted, afraid.
"I am being honest," he said. "Something I wasn't sure you wanted anymore."
She flinched.
He exhaled slowly.
"I came to tell you something," he said. "Before you hear it from anyone else."
A cold dread spread through her chest.
"Tell me what."
Kael met her gaze—and did not look away.
"I am stepping down as your anchor."
The room tilted.
"What?"
"I can't continue like this," he said, voice steady but breaking underneath. "I won't stand beside a future where silence becomes the answer to suffering."
Elara shook her head violently. "That's not what I want—"
"It doesn't matter what you want," Kael said gently. "It matters what you allow."
Her breath came fast and shallow.
"You can't," she whispered. "If you break the bond—"
"I know the cost," he said. "I've lived my whole existence paying costs."
She grabbed his sleeve. "Kael, please—this isn't you."
He covered her hand with his own.
"This is exactly me," he said softly. "The man who refuses to become something worse for the sake of peace."
Tears spilled down her face.
"If you do this," she whispered, "the Mirror will destabilize completely."
"Yes," he said. "But it won't end the world."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You don't know that."
"No," he admitted. "But I know this will."
Silence fell—thick, suffocating.
"You're choosing against me," she said hoarsely.
Kael shook his head. "I'm choosing for myself."
That hurt worse.
The Third Witness
They were not alone.
Aren stirred.
Elara froze.
Kael turned sharply.
Aren's eyes opened slowly, painfully, but with startling clarity.
"I knew," Aren whispered.
Both of them rushed to his side.
"You knew?" Elara breathed.
Aren nodded faintly. "This was always coming."
Kael swallowed hard. "You shouldn't be awake."
Aren smiled weakly. "I wake when things matter."
He looked at Kael.
"You're afraid she'll become the Devourer's reflection," Aren said quietly.
Kael flinched.
"And you," Aren continued, turning to Elara, "are afraid that stopping people from choosing silence makes you a tyrant."
Elara sobbed openly now. "I never wanted this."
Aren's gaze softened. "I know."
He drew a shaky breath.
"But listen to me," he said. "Kael leaving the bond isn't abandonment. It's resistance."
Elara shook her head. "It will tear everything apart."
Aren's fingers twitched weakly.
"Or," he whispered, "it forces the Mirror to answer a question it's been avoiding."
Kael frowned. "What question?"
Aren met Elara's eyes.
"Whether the Mirror needs anchors… or witnesses."
The air went still.
Elara felt the Mirror stir—uneasy, uncertain.
Aren smiled faintly.
"It was never meant to be stable forever," he said. "It was meant to end."
Elara whispered, "End how?"
Aren closed his eyes.
"That," he said, "is what you're about to find out."
The Severing
They moved to the Mirror chamber at midnight.
No Council.
No guards.
No witnesses beyond the three of them.
The chamber glowed faintly, responding to their presence like a held breath.
Kael stood opposite Elara within the circle.
"You don't have to do this," she whispered one last time.
He smiled sadly. "That's the problem. I do."
Aren lay on a pallet near the edge, barely conscious but watching—always watching.
Kael removed his glove and placed his bare palm over his heart.
"Elara," he said softly, "whatever happens next—know that I chose you every day until this one."
Her heart shattered.
"I still choose you," she whispered.
He nodded. "I know."
The Mirror pulsed.
Kael reached out—and gently took her hands.
The moment their skin touched, the bond flared violently—light and shadow screaming in protest.
Elara cried out as the pressure slammed into her chest.
"KAEL—"
"Stay with me," he said firmly. "Just breathe."
He leaned forward, forehead resting against hers.
"I release you," he whispered.
The Mirror screamed.
A shockwave ripped through the chamber, throwing Elara backward.
Kael collapsed to his knees.
The light vanished.
Silence followed—absolute and terrifying.
Elara pushed herself up, gasping.
"Kael!"
He lifted his head slowly.
His eyes—once threaded with shadow and fire—were quiet.
The bond was gone.
The Mirror did not collapse.
It did something far worse.
It withdrew.
The light in the chamber dimmed until only stone remained.
Nyx's words echoed in Elara's mind from long ago:
If the Mirror loses its anchors… it may decide it no longer needs the world.
Elara screamed.
Aftermath
Kael stood unsteadily, pressing a hand to his chest.
"I'm… alive," he murmured, surprised.
Aren exhaled weakly. "Of course you are."
Elara stared at Kael—really looked at him.
For the first time since she'd met him, she couldn't feel him.
No bond.
No echo.
Just a man.
And she had never felt so alone.
"You did this," she whispered, voice hollow. "You broke us."
Kael shook his head. "No. I broke the Mirror's certainty."
He stepped closer—but stopped himself, as if afraid to touch her now.
"You're free," he said softly.
Elara laughed—a broken sound. "I don't feel free."
Aren spoke faintly. "That's because freedom hurts."
The chamber remained dark.
The Mirror did not respond.
Far beneath the world—
Something ancient paused.
The Devourer felt it.
Not victory.
Not defeat.
Uncertainty.
For the first time since the beginning—
The ending was no longer guaranteed.