Erin's body struck the basement wall harder than it should have.
The sound echoed too long through the collapsed chamber, reverberating off fractured concrete and exposed rebar. Dust drifted down in slow sheets, catching the dull green glow of the rift still pulsing above them.
They had been spat out by it.
"Elira—!" A voice called out distantly.
Elira turned, scanning the debris-choked space, but there was no one in sight.
Then the sound was cut off. Silence followed. Thick. Absolute.
Elira dropped to her knees beside Erin almost immediately, fingers pressing against his neck. His pulse was there, irregular, shallow, but present.
Alive.
She exhaled once, sharply, then placed her palm over the Mark on the back of his hand.
The half-star sigil burned hotter than it should have. The lines trembled faintly beneath her touch, as though resisting restraint.
"Stay still," she murmured, not to him, but to herself. "Breathe, Elira. Breathe."
She focused.
Her power flowed outward, precise, disciplined. A translucent barrier unfolded around them, thin layers of light locking into place, stabilizing the shattered space.
For exactly three seconds.
Then the air warped.
The rift twisted, not expanding, not collapsing, but leaning. Like a gigantic eye turning its attention toward them. The green glow darkened, veins of black threading through it like rot spreading beneath skin.
Elira's breath hitched. It wasn't reacting to her power.
It wasn't targeting her at all.
It was focused on Erin.
His mark flared violently.
Erin's body convulsed, his back arching as an invisible force slammed him into the broken floor. The half-star symbol split, its lines stretching outward, carving deeper into his skin as something pushed from within.
"Elira… systems failing…"
The last remaining comm unit crackled once and then went dead.
Elira's shields shattered like glass.
She steadied herself, forcing her breathing to slow as she reapplied her power,layer after layer, burning through her stamina faster than should have been possible. Healing light wrapped around Erin's chest, forcing his lungs to draw breath. Defensive sigils anchored his spine, reinforced his heart.
But still, the pressure increased.
Something inside Erin was breaking open.
Not tearing.
Not destroying.
Unlocking.
At the edges of Elira's awareness, her nightmares stirred. Fractured images bled into reality, endless corridors, golden light fleeing into darkness, a presence waiting behind a door that had already been opened once before.
Cracks spread across the basement in impossible directions. Gravity tilted. The rift shrank—not closing, but narrowing, focusing entirely onto Aerin.
Elira understood.
The anomaly inside the rift hadn't appeared by chance.
It wasn't drawn to Erin. It had called to him.
To the mark that should never have remained incomplete.
Erin gasped; sharp, broken, and the half-star symbol shattered. A second star ignited.
Darker. Deeper. Its imprint burned into his skin before reforming, unstable, incomplete, but undeniably there.
The rift collapsed inward violently, snapping shut as if cut off mid-breath. The pressure vanished all at once, hurling Elira across the chamber. She struck the ground hard, blood spilling from her mouth.
Silence returned.
Elira pushed herself upright slowly, ignoring the pain screaming through her body. Broken bones could wait.
She crossed the shattered floor and knelt beside Erin once more.
His mark still glowed.
Two stars now : one dim, one flickering unevenly.
He was breathing.
She placed her hand over the Mark again, reinforcing containment rather than healing this time. Whatever had awakened inside him wasn't finished.
And it had noticed her.
Not as prey. As awareness.
Elira stood, unease crawling up her spine. For a brief moment, she felt something from the Mark—something sharp, resentful. As if it hated her.
She shook the thought away and turned, scanning the chamber. Bodies lay scattered and unmoving. She didn't yet know who could still be saved.
Above them, the mall continued on. Music played. People laughed. Life went on, unaware that something had nearly torn reality open beneath their feet.
Elira looked down at Erin one last time.
He was safe.
For now.
And that was enough.
~~~
The first sound that broke the silence was running footsteps.
Fast. Uneven. Too human.
"'Lira!"
The voice cut through the dust-filled air like a blade. Elira turned just as a figure burst through the shattered entrance—green eyes wide, golden-brown hair falling loose over her shoulders, strands catching the emergency lights as she skidded to a stop beside her.
Lyrenne. Her best friend since memory days.
Her second cousin. An eight-star Marked mage whose presence alone bent the air.
Lyrenne dropped to her knees without hesitation, hands glowing instinctively as she took in the scene: collapsed walls, bodies scattered like broken dolls, the faint scorch marks where reality had folded wrong.
"'Lira—gods—what happened?"
Elira opened her mouth to answer and immediately tasted iron. Blood spilled from her nose, streaking down to her lips. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, steadying herself with visible effort.
"I'm fine," she said, voice low and even. A lie, but a controlled one.
Lyrenne's eyes narrowed, sharp despite her gentle face. "You're empty. You're barely holding your essence together."
Before Elira could respond, a rough groan sounded behind them. Maris stirred.
Elira pushed herself upright, ignoring the way the world tilted, and staggered toward the fallen captain. Golden light flared weakly around her hands as she knelt, placing her palms against Maris's chest and shoulder.
"Stay still," Elira said calmly.
Her healing flowed. It was thin, careful, economical. Not restoration, not repair. Just enough to anchor life back into place.
Maris coughed violently, blood splattering against the concrete. Her eyes snapped open.
"…Hell," she rasped. "Thought… I was done."
"You almost were," Lyrenne muttered.
Elira pulled her hands back, swaying slightly before Lyrenne caught her by the elbow.
"That's enough," Lyrenne said quietly. "If you push any further—"
"I won't," Elira replied softly. She met Maris's gaze. "Are you okay? Can you speak?"
Maris nodded once, grimacing, then recalls what she could, speaking mostly to Lyrenne. "Lost the team…. Something went wrong with the rift. Pressure spike when we were inside as though it was more than alive."
Her eyes flicked, briefly, toward where Erin lay unconscious.
Elira didn't follow the look.
"That's all you'll say," Elira said gently but firmly. Although Maris could not have known the entire detail, Elira knows she's smart and experienced enough to theorized what actually happened.
Maris hesitated—then exhaled. "That's all…there's to it."
Lyrenne watched the exchange closely. She didn't ask questions. She never did when Elira used that tone.
She rose and moved toward Erin, stopping a few steps away. She looked at him the way one looked at a stranger—neutral, distant, assessing. She knew him, of course. Everyone did.
A half-star Marked. Quiet. Forgettable.
Someone who existed entirely outside her world. Different orbit.
They had exchanged polite greetings before. Nothing more. Erin had never lingered near her, never tried to bridge the gap. And she had never offered an opening.
Lyrenne turned back to Elira. "The Aegis Bureau will be here any second. They'll want reports..."
Elira nodded slowly. "They'll get Maris's…."
"And yours?"
Elira's eyes flicked, briefly, to the collapsed rift scar, now nothing more than cracked stone and lingering wrongness.
"They don't need mine."
Lyrenne studied her face for a long moment. Then she smiled—soft, bright, the kind of smile that drew people in without effort. The kind that had turned heads since childhood.
"Understood," she said simply. Elira can do that. Her connection can make the Bureau stop interogating her.
Sirens wailed faintly above them. The mall overhead continued its cheerful noise: music, laughter, footsteps, utterly unaware of how close the world beneath it had come to tearing open.
Lyrenne helped Elira sit, shielding her subtly from view as Bureau personnel began to arrive.
As stretchers rolled in and voices filled the space, Lyrenne leaned closer, her tone light enough to be ignored.
"You owe me," she said quietly.
Elira allowed herself a small, tired smile.
"I know."