The veil between truths rippled.
Kaela stood in the heart of the Unwritten Vault, naked save for the strands of paradox that curled like sentient smoke around her form. Her breathing was uneven. Her myth was unraveling. She wasn't breaking apart—not yet—but she was on the edge.
And that was where Darius needed her.
He watched her from the steps of the altar, arms folded, his gaze sharp. Around them, the Codex Null flickered, the glyphs on its surface twitching in protest.
"You ready to be the blade?" he asked.
Kaela grinned, her eyes gleaming with layered realities. "Only if you sharpen me with your truth."
Nyx stood nearby, arms crossed, but she said nothing. Celestia had already sanctified the altar with belieffire earlier that day. Now it was Darius's turn.
He descended the steps.
His robes vanished.
