The world ended with a whisper.
The cavern folded in on itself, walls crumbling into ash, skulls turning to dust mid-scream. The spiral's mouth ripped wide, black fire swallowing everything. Tomas clutched Elara as the floor gave way beneath them.
There was no falling—only silence swallowing them whole.
Then, darkness.
When Elara opened her eyes, she was lying on an endless plain of glass. Above her, no stars—only a sky of shuddering chains stretching into infinity. Each chain glowed faintly, as though pulsing with blood.
Beside her, Tomas groaned, pushing himself upright. His body was broken, yet his hand instinctively sought hers. Their palms met, the key between them, and the plain rippled like water.
"Elara…" His voice was cracked, but steady. "Where are we?"
"The Hour," she whispered. Her own voice sounded wrong—too sharp, too deep, as if two people spoke through her. "We're inside it."
Shadows moved across the glass. Not quite men, not quite beasts—echoes of those consumed by the spiral over centuries. Their eyes glowed faintly, their bodies bound by half-seen chains.
Some staggered aimlessly. Others knelt as if in prayer. A few turned, drawn to Tomas's blood.
They began to crawl toward him.
Elara shoved herself to her feet, the key blazing in her grip. She pointed it, and the shadows froze.
The Hour's voice pulsed inside her skull: They are yours. Command them. Break the boy, and they will obey forever.
Tomas tightened his grip on her hand. "Don't listen."
Her body trembled. Shadows whispered her name, their voices familiar—her grandmother, her father, every keeper who came before. Each one begged her to surrender, to yield, to stop fighting.
She nearly did.
But Tomas pressed his forehead to hers, his blood smearing her skin. "We've made it this far. You're still you, Elara. Don't let them take that."
The glass plain shuddered. A chain thicker than mountains dragged itself across the horizon, its links glowing molten white. The impact cracked the surface, fissures spreading beneath their feet.
From the cracks rose Aldric.
Or what was left of him.
His body was unrecognizable—half flesh, half chain, his skull stretched into a crown of fire. The Hour poured from his mouth like smoke. His eyes were pits of silence.
"Elaraaa…" he hissed, voice reverberating across the plain. "See what I have become. What you must become."
Tomas staggered in front of her, blade raised, though his hand shook violently. "You're not touching her."
Aldric laughed, the sound a collapse of worlds. "You are nothing. A breath. A shadow. She is the chain. The Hour. Even now she hears it."
Elara's body shook. Light poured from her cracked skin, veins of fire across her arms. She could barely breathe. The Hour sang through her bones.
Tomas saw it—and instead of recoiling, he stepped closer. His hand touched her cheek, unflinching despite the searing heat. "Stay with me. Even if it kills me, stay with me."
Her tears hissed as they touched the glowing glass.
Aldric's form loomed above them, chains whipping, shadows screaming at his back. The Hour's voice thundered in unison with his: Choose. Keeper or girl. Silence or boy.
Elara raised the key. Her entire body screamed to give in.
Tomas wrapped his bleeding hands around hers, steadying the key. His eyes burned—not with fear, but defiance.
"Then we choose together."
The glass plain shattered.
Chains whipped downward. Shadows screamed. Aldric lunged.
And Elara drove the key into the Hour itself.
The world was gone.
No cavern, no stone, no air—only the endless plain of glass beneath their feet, stretching into infinity. The glass was slick with shifting reflections: a thousand Elara's faces, a thousand Tomas's deaths.
Above them, the sky was nothing but chains. They writhed like veins across the black void, stretching into distances the mind could not measure. Each link was enormous, pulsing as if filled with blood. And when they moved, the sound was not metal but breathing—slow, patient, eternal.
Tomas shuddered. His breath rattled in his chest, every inhale a knife. Yet he pulled himself to his knees, one arm wrapped protectively around Elara.
"Elara," he whispered. His voice was cracked and ragged, but steady. "We're not dead."
She didn't answer. Her skin glowed faintly, fractures of light crawling across her arms. When she looked at him, one eye was hers and one was the sun.
"We're inside it," she said finally. Her voice layered, hers and not hers, echoing through the plain. "Inside the Hour."
Figures drifted across the glass.
At first Tomas thought they were shadows, but as they drew closer he saw faces—half-forgotten, ruined. They walked in silence, bodies wrapped in phantom chains. Their mouths opened, but no sound came out.
"Elara…" Tomas's hand tightened on his sword hilt. "Who are they?"
Her throat locked. Recognition clawed at her.
"My blood," she whispered. "The keepers before me."
They turned toward her at once. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Eyes empty, hands reaching. Each face—familiar. The woman who raised her. The father she barely remembered. Ancestors she had only seen in paintings.
"Elara…" one mouthed, chains dragging behind.
"Elaraaa…"
She staggered back. The Hour's voice pressed into her skull like a blade: They are yours. They always were. Command them. Keep the silence. End the boy.
Her body trembled. The key in her hand pulsed like a living heart.
"Elara."
Tomas's voice was close now, his hand gripping hers, grounding her. His eyes cut through the swarm of shadows. "Don't listen."
Her lips parted. "I can't stop hearing them."
"Then hear me louder." He pressed his forehead to hers, blood smearing between them. His chest heaved with the effort. "You're not a chain. You're not the Hour. You're Elara. And I need you."
For one heartbeat, she believed him.
The plain split.
A fissure tore open, black fire spilling from the wound. From it rose Aldric.
No longer human.
His body was a pillar of chains, skin stripped away, his skull stretched into a crown of lightless fire. His mouth was a black wound, smoke pouring from it. His eyes were pits that swallowed vision itself.
"Elaraaa…" His voice shattered across the plain, layered and infinite. "See what I have become. See what you must become."
The keepers' shades fell prostrate before him. Chains dragged them down, bowing in worship.
Tomas staggered to his feet, blade raised though his hand shook violently. "You're not touching her."
Aldric laughed. The sound was wrong—like mountains collapsing, like oceans drying in an instant. "You are nothing. A breath. A shadow. She is the Hour's flesh. Even now she hears it."
Chains lashed outward, striking the glass plain, splintering it. The ground beneath Tomas gave way. He barely leapt aside before a fissure swallowed him whole. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself forward, slashing at the chains.
They barely slowed.
Elara's light flared brighter. The key pulsed in her palm, urging her toward Aldric. Her human eye blurred with tears, her sun-eye burned with hunger.
The Hour's voice pressed deeper: He is weak. He is dust. Break him, and you will never break again.
She raised the key.
For an instant, she almost turned it toward Tomas.
Her reflection appeared in the glass beneath her—a perfect, radiant version of herself, chains crowned around her brow. The reflection smiled. "One cut. End him. Keep the silence."
"Elara!"
Tomas's shout tore the vision apart. He was bleeding, staggering, but still moving. Still fighting.
His eyes never left hers.
"Stay with me!" he roared, though the sound broke his chest raw. "Even if it kills me, stay with me!"
Her grip on the key shifted.
Her tears fell onto the glass and hissed into steam.
Aldric rose higher, chains lashing like tentacles, shadows screaming at his back. "Choose, girl! Keeper or chain! Silence or boy!"
Elara's skin split with light. Her body shook with the force of the Hour tearing through her veins.
Tomas wrapped his bleeding hands around hers, steadying the key. His voice was no longer loud—just broken, raw, human.
"Then we choose together."
The glass plain shattered.
Chains whipped downward. Shadows lunged. Aldric screamed in triumph.
And Elara, with Tomas's hands over hers, drove the key into the Hour itself.