The world didn't fall apart quietly.
It broke with a cry, sharp and terrible, like a thousand glass mirrors shattering at once. The sound cut through the air and into her bones, leaving no place untouched.
Nyra flinched back, her sword snapping up on instinct. Before her, the lattice writhed and twisted, as if alive. Light bled into shadow and shadow bled back into light, strands of broken code snapping apart, stitching themselves together, then breaking again—over and over, without end.
Her chest tightened as she watched. The crack spread wider, not like a wound tearing flesh, but like an eye forcing itself open, as though the world itself had decided to look back at her.
And through it—
Kaito.
