Emma threw herself between the terrible End of Everything and the trembling, fragile circle of her family. Her chest heaved with desperate breath as she spread her arms wide, the way a child might shield a candle from a storm.
"You can't have them!" she shouted, her voice breaking in the vast darkness. Yet against the monster's roaring laughter, the cry sounded unbearably small, like a sparrow lost in a hurricane.
The creature loomed above her, a nightmare given form, towering like a jagged mountain made of shadows. Its edges writhed as if alive, a black tide swallowing the light. "Silly child," it thundered, voice rumbling like earthquakes. "I don't want your family. I want your choice."
Emma's throat tightened. Her hands shook. "What choice?" she demanded, though the word scraped from her lips like sandpaper.
"The choice every hero must make at the end," came a new voice, softer yet infinitely stronger.
