They plummeted.
Not through space, but possibility.
The spiral path they followed shimmered with forgotten lives — realms where Aran never found Elira, where the fire consumed him, where their child became a god of ruin.
He shielded Elira with his body, their son cradled between them as time twisted.
Something ancient reached out from the void — a voice like a thousand flames screaming in silence.
"You are not meant to reach the Heart," it said. "Turn back, Oathbearer."
But Aran held tighter.
"No."
A burst of radiant force ejected them from the spiral.
They landed atop a floating shard of reality — drifting in a field of broken stars.
The Spiralfall had spat them out.
But they were alive.
And ahead, in the emptiness beyond time, a silver path appeared — the bridge to the final realm.