The stars above the Oracle Forge twisted, then vanished entirely.
In their place, a tear opened — not in space, but in memory. A fracture in the Realms, leaking echoes.
Lyra stood at the edge of the forge's sky, her runes still glowing softly beneath her skin. The Nightingale hovered nearby, Kaelen and the others watching her with cautious awe. She looked changed — not just stronger, but anchored.
Aeris stepped beside her. "That tear wasn't there before."
"No," Lyra said quietly. "It's not a portal, It's a cry for help."
Sera frowned, "From where?"
Riven's voice came like a blade drawn in silence, "From the Realm of Isonor."
Kaelen went still.
Aeris's eyes widened "That Realm collapsed a century ago."
"Exactly," Kaelen murmured "So how is it calling to us now?"
They entered the breach.
The Nightingale flew through silence.
No stars, No motion, Just echoes.
As they passed through the veil, Lyra felt her flames flicker. Not extinguished — confused. Her power bent strangely, like light underwater.
They emerged into Isonor.
But it wasn't dead.
It was stuck.
Entire cities hovered in half-collapsed form, people frozen mid-stride. Ships hung in the air. Rain never touched the ground. It was as though time had taken a breath… and forgotten how to exhale.
"This isn't stasis," Aeris whispered "It's temporal dissonance."
Kaelen walked among the still forms "They're alive, Just… paused."
Lyra stepped forward, her flame pulsing gently "I can feel it, Something below is warping everything."
Riven nodded toward a spire at the center of the city — still glowing with faint glyphs.
"The Resonant Core, If we restore it, time might flow again."
"Or collapse entirely," Kaelen added grimly.
They went anyway.
Inside the spire, they descended into what once was the heart of Isonor — a place where reality was woven by engineers and harmonics.
At the core was a chamber of floating rings and glowing lines — all frozen mid-rotation.
And in its center: a Temporal Leech.
It was once a being of insight — a Mindweaver — but too long exposed to the unbalanced currents of time had turned it into something else.
Its body was stretched and fragmented, parts of it existing seconds apart. It twitched in every direction, and its voice came not in words, but memories it had stolen from others.
When it turned toward them, Lyra heard her own voice echo back.
"I'm not ready—"
"I'll burn it all down—"
"Kaelen, don't leave me—"
She clenched her fists.
"No."
She stepped forward.
The Leech lunged.
But this time, Lyra didn't defend.
She breathed.
The Prime Flame unfolded around her — not a weapon, but a song. A harmony of all her selves, her fears, her triumphs. It resonated against the frozen chamber, vibrating through the loops of time like ripples in a pond.
The Leech faltered, shrieking in stolen voices.
Kaelen and Sera rushed to stabilize the outer rings.
Riven guarded the exit.
Lyra pressed forward, her flames not burning — but healing.
LShe touched the Leech's core — a fragment of what it once was.
And whispered, "You can let go now."
With a final ripple, the creature dissolved.
Time breathed.
The Realm of Isonor woke.
Rain fell.
People moved.
Ships resumed their flight.
And across the skies, a single golden flame flared as the Nightingale rose again.
Back aboard, the crew sat in rare quiet.
Kaelen approached Lyra.
"You didn't destroy it."
"I didn't need to."
"You rewrote it."
Lyra smiled softly. "The Forge showed me how."
Kaelen looked at her differently now — not as a weapon, or even a partner — but as something more dangerous.
A creator.
Far in the void, the Seventh General sat upon a throne of flickering moments.
She saw the Realm awaken.
She saw Lyra's choice.
And she whispered, "She grows faster than he did."
The Void-King's reflection hovered nearby.
"She will break."
"Or she will break us," the General said.