They existed in a space between existence and oblivion, no longer quite physical but not yet fully dissolved. The bonefire had consumed their bodies, transformed them into something that was more concept than creature, more binding than beings. Through what remained of their merged consciousness, they could feel the transformation continuing—reality reshaping itself, thrones fallen, decrees unraveled, freedom spreading like dawn breaking across all realms.
It should have been their ending. Their final moment. The culmination of everything they'd chosen and fought for.
But the cosmic order, it seemed, was not quite finished with them.
The air—if it could be called air in this liminal space—grew suddenly, violently cold. Colder than the marrow sea had been, colder than the Shadow Court's decrees, colder than anything either of them had experienced. Through their binding, Selena felt Dante's alarm spike, felt his recognition of what that particular quality of cold meant.
