The Pane bled light.
Where Ren's Thorn had struck, cracks ran not just across the Architect but through the very air. Each fissure leaked shards of reality, spilling pieces of worlds that didn't belong here. A sky filled with burning moons. A river that ran backward. A classroom door creaking open into nothing but teeth.
Ren's chest heaved. His fractured eyes glowed faintly, but the glow was unstable—bleed crawling deeper into his veins. Thorn's edge hummed like a living wound, vibrating against his grip as though it might shatter him as easily as the Architect.
The Architect staggered back. Not with pain—no, it didn't feel—but with rejection. Its mirrored body was no longer perfect; cracks marred its surface, spirals of impossible reflection distorting its once pristine form.
"Deviation… rewriting in progress…"
"Containment priority elevated."
Its voice glitched, warping between a hundred tones. Each word carried weight, and yet for the first time, Ren noticed hesitation.
