The Inquisitor's eyes glinted. "You wouldn't."
My pulse thundered in my ears as I stood between him and Riven, the blade trembling slightly in my grip.
"I would," I said, louder than I felt. "If it means freeing him."
Riven's voice rasped behind me. "Sera, don't—"
But he didn't understand. I wasn't going to sever our bond. I was going to save it.
I pointed the silver blade at the heart of the glowing seal.
"Do it," the Inquisitor dared. "Let the world watch your desire destroy you."
I slashed.
A flash of silver burst across the chamber like lightning. The seal cracked—not shattered, but splintered. The illusion worked.
The threads sparked wildly, mistaking the false blade for the real thing.
Riven collapsed forward, the shackles melting away in a hiss of steam.
The Inquisitor lunged—but I was faster.
I hurled the blade into the glyph behind him. The chamber shook violently as a rift tore open in the wall—raw threadspace leaking through like storm winds.
I grabbed Riven's hand. "Now!"
Together, we ran through the rupture.
Through the breach.
Through the flood of light.
Through everything.
Behind us, the Inquisitor screamed as the rift consumed the Crimson Room.
We tumbled out into the open corridors beneath the Threadspire.
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then Riven turned to me, eyes wide.
"You didn't sever it," he whispered. "I can still feel you."
I nodded, tears burning behind my eyes. "I couldn't lose you. Not like that."
His hand found mine, threads pulsing in sync.
But the moment didn't last.
Horns began to sound above—Council alarms.
"They know," he said.
I looked at the path ahead.
Then at the broken seal behind us.
"Let them come," I said. "We're not running anymore."
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