The shadow moved.
And Elsa did not hesitate.
Not even for a breath.
Her gloves slipped free in a single, practiced motion, leather falling away as her bare palm met the frozen air. On the back of her hand, a rune—ancient, intricate, merciless—ignited.
Light erupted.
Not light as sight understood it, but absence—a blinding white that devoured color, sound, distance, and even space itself. The world seems to freeze.
Mana locked in place like insects trapped in amber. The fractured sky became a still canvas.
Elsa moved.
Space folded beneath her step.
One instant she stood alone beneath the dead sky—
The next, she was in front of Grey.
She reached him and pulled him close, arms wrapping around his rigid form with sudden, crushing force. His body jolted in surprise, breath catching as cold air rushed past them—
And then—
They were gone.
The Mirror Realm seems to tore itself open and stitched shut in the same breath.
When reality resumed, they were no longer there.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of kilometers away, land blurred beneath Elsa's feet as she ran. Mountains shattered past her peripheral vision. Forests bent and vanished. Rivers flashed like silver scars before being left behind.
She did not stop.
She did not slow.
She did not look back.
Even now, with distance piling upon distance, she could still feel it—that presence—pressing against the back of her mind like a fingertip testing fragile glass.
She refused to acknowledge it.
Refused to name it.
Refused to imagine what form could blot out the moon so completely.
So she just ran....for her life.
The ground trembled beneath her feet—not from her steps, but from something else.
Far away.
Very far.
A sound echoed through the air.
A cry.
High.
Raspy.
Croaking.
A crow's call.
Elsa's entire body shuddered.
Her breath hitched for the first time since the escape began, frost misting from her lips as she pushed harder—faster—forcing mana through pathways that screamed in protest.
That sound…
It was terrifying...
Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as she angled her path sharply toward the distant horizon, where the earth glowed faintly red.
The volcano.
Heat shimmered there, a wound in the land that bled fire and sulfur—a place loud enough, violent enough, alive enough to drown out even that thing's gaze.
"Here," she whispered, more prayer than command. "This is the only safe place."
The tremors faded.
The cries did not follow.
Whatever lurked beneath that shadow did not give chase.
Whether from disinterest—
Or restraint—
She did not know.
She did not want to know.
Only when the volcanic heat finally brushed against her skin did Elsa allow herself to slow, her grip on Grey tightening just slightly—as if to confirm he was still alive.
Behind them, far beyond sight, the sky slowly remembered how to move again.
And something ancient watched the empty place they had once stood—
In silence.