The storm parted. The sky above the arch cleared to reveal unfamiliar constellations swirling in impossible patterns. The Shrine's stone gate pulsed with quiet light, a beckoning heartbeat.
Caelum helped Selka to her feet, the older warrior's face pale but determined. "You faced yourself," she said hoarsely. "Few can."
The wind carried whispers — fragments of voices not their own. Caelum looked into the archway, seeing glimpses of other worlds, other selves: the laughing one dancing on stormwinds; the furious one raging through molten rivers. They understood now: the timelines were not separate by accident. Someone — something — had fractured them to keep an ancient balance.
Selka's voice trembled. "The Shrine is awakening."
Caelum sheathed their katana, the frost still steaming from its blade. "Then I have to reach it. I have to understand why this happened — and how to end it."
Behind them, the Weeping World lay battered but quiet, dawn's light glinting on ice and rubble. Ahead, the arch shimmered with possibilities and dangers untold.
Taking a steadying breath, Caelum stepped forward, crossing the threshold.