Iris gasped as she jolted upright, her breath ragged.
Cold sweat clung to her skin. The battlefield was gone. The blood. The fury. The hunger. All of it had vanished as if ripped from existence.
Yet, the echoes of that madness still whispered at the edges of her mind.
The stillness was disarming.
Iris stood alone in the endless expanse of the final trial, breath fogging faintly in the cool air that surrounded her.
A silver mist drifted through the realm, settling across the glowing ground like dew. Her fingers twitched by her sides. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was pressing.
Rudra was gone. Separated. Just moments ago, they'd nearly torn each other apart under the influence of instinct. Now… it was quiet. Too quiet.
She should've been relieved.
But she wasn't.
Her heart felt like it was still caught in his claws.
Where am I?
The space around her was strange. Not empty, but not full. It felt like floating between two worlds—reality and something else.
