The sky had cracked.
But it wasn't destruction—it was invitation.
From the hill where the others stood, Rin stared up at the break in the heavens. Threads of light poured downward, not unraveling—but reweaving. The world was writing itself in full view.
Mei stood beside her, arms crossed, soft wind tugging at her hair.
"This is what you fought for," Mei said quietly. "Not just survival. But this."
"A world that can't be undone," Rin replied. "That chooses to stay."
Behind them, the others were already moving.
Elu, Kaen, Iris
Elu had found the core server fragment earlier—tucked deep within the ruins of the old observation tower. She knelt beside it now, hands glowing with precision.
Kaen hovered nearby, protective as ever, arms folded and face still flushed with frustration from earlier. "Don't burn yourself out again."
Elu didn't even glance up. "I won't. I just need to realign the echo relay. The Weavers left it open."
"Then I'm staying right here." Kaen sat beside her. "Just in case."
And Iris—who had wandered further—looked back at them from the ridge, finally allowing herself to smile.
This—being useful again, being herself again—this was her closure.
Jun and Aro
Jun tossed a rock up and caught it one-handed. "So. You gonna confess to anyone before the world collapses or reforms or whatever?"
Aro looked at him flatly. "Confess what?"
Jun smirked. "Feelings, idiot. Feelings. You've got at least two people thinking you're in love with them."
Aro flushed and coughed. "That's—absolutely false."
"Mmhmm. So why are you looking over at Rin right now?"
Aro muttered something and kicked a stone. "I'm thinking."
Jun bumped shoulders with him. "Good. Think faster. The universe is almost done rebooting."
Selene and Alin
Selene had wandered to the edge of a broken balcony, watching the reborn horizon.
Alin joined her, still quiet, still unsure.
"I never wanted to be anything important," Alin said softly. "But now I'm here."
"Same," Selene said. "I just wanted to protect people. And now I'm part of the world they'll protect back."
She smiled—not the regal smirk of the crown princess, but something older. Truer.
They stood side by side, not as royalty and civilian—but as survivors with stories still being told.
Threadwriter and Weaver
Far above them all, Threadwriter stood beside Weaver on a glasslike platform woven from memory.
"You gave them everything," Weaver said. "But you also let go."
Threadwriter nodded. "They deserved something real. Not just choice—but permanence."
"The others are watching. Waiting for you to intervene."
"I won't. Not directly."
"Then how do you plan to stop him?"
Threadwriter turned his gaze to the Threadline tearing open wider across the sky—Coherence Lead's presence pulsing at the center of it.
"By showing him something he never planned for."
"A world that no longer needs him."
At the Edge of the Threadline
Rin stepped toward the split horizon.
The others followed—scattered, wounded, reborn. A group who had never meant to be heroes. Who had only ever wanted to live honestly.
Now they stood at the doorway of what came next.
"We're ready," Rin said.