The three paths burned like molten rivers across the battlefield, splitting armies and commanders alike. Soldiers faltered, staring at the impossible light. Some dropped their weapons and prayed. Others, drunk on desperation, rushed forward.
Kaelen held his ground in front of Lyra, his blade humming, but every instinct screamed at him that she was slipping further away. Her eyes—once gentle, once human—were now storm-tossed voids threaded with fire.
"Lyra, listen to me!" he shouted through the roar. "You're still here. Don't let it take you!"
But her voice was no longer steady. It was fractured, each word echoing like a hundred versions of herself speaking in chorus:
"I am… Lyra. I am… Seed. I am… all futures."
The Echo-Lord's shadow loomed, his laughter vibrating through broken stars. "Yes, girl. Let it consume you. Tear the heavens apart, and I will claim what remains."
Veyric advanced, his Dominion fleet adjusting above to lock weapons. "If she unravels reality itself, none of us will have a galaxy to fight for. Focus all fire on the Seedbearer!"
Azhira's veil whipped in unseen winds, her eyes narrowing. She whispered, and her disciples ignited in radiant flames, their bodies dissolving into pure symbols that bound together into a lattice of light—aimed at Lyra.
"The prophecy demands sacrifice. If she cannot master it, then she must be severed."
And the Harbinger, blood dripping from his axe, snarled at them both. "Fools. I'll cut her down and carve the Seed from her corpse."
All three factions surged toward her.
Kaelen's world narrowed to a single truth: if Lyra fell, everything ended. He launched himself at the Dominion vanguard, blade flashing, carving through their lines. He didn't fight for victory—he fought to buy her seconds.
Lyra screamed as the Seed cracked her spirit further. Her body flared with brilliance, so intense it split the sky into fragments. For a heartbeat, everyone saw into other realities:
—Worlds where the Dominion reigned eternal.
—Worlds where Azhira's prophecy birthed a holy empire.
—Worlds where the Harbinger's war turned the stars into ash.
—And worlds where nothing survived.
The vision shattered. Soldiers fell weeping. Commanders faltered. Even the Echo-Lord grew silent.
Lyra collapsed to her knees, trembling, her voice small at last:
"Kaelen… I can't hold it much longer."
He reached for her—just as the sky itself broke apart, and a colossal rift split open above the battlefield, revealing something vast and alien stirring in the void beyond.