The bridge narrowed the deeper they walked.
It was no longer glass, stone, or ash, but something more fragile—light itself, drawn thin and stretched across the abyss like a thread that could snap beneath their weight.
Each step they took left ripples spreading outward, like walking across water that remembered every motion.
The storm towered ahead of them, its fractured column collapsing and reforming in endless spasms. At its heart, the shard spun slowly, bleeding silver, violet, and gold light in steady pulses. Every turn of it seemed to drag the Fork tighter, as though the entire world strained around its existence.
Kaito's chest burned with every pulse. The shard of refusal beat like a second heart inside him, jagged and insistent, threatening to split his ribs apart.
Yet, as painful as it was, it no longer felt like chaos. It had a rhythm now, an echo that matched his step.
