The weave room convulsed with Ezra's rage.
A vortex of light and thread tore open across the ceiling, strands of reality unraveling in every direction.
The protections of the room broke apart and flared. All the vitality that was meant to stabilize the room shattered like brittle glass. The walls cracked under the pressure of raw, unchecked will.
Ezra stood at the center of it all, breathing like a beast unchained, his eyes glowing gold-white with fury. The ground beneath him blackened as his darkness coiled around his legs, crawling outward like a sentient storm.
He had found nothing.
No thread leading to Akiko.
No trace of Aurora.
Only absence.
He screamed.
The sound tore through the chamber, a guttural, soul-shredding howl that warped the very weave itself. The very web that represented the Monarchy bent and twisted, unable to calm him, unable to answer him.
"WHERE IS SHE?!"
