Lyra collapsed the moment her foot touched the edge of the veil. Not the witch realm. Not the human one. This place didn't belong anywhere—not even in the scrolls of forgotten magic.
Raven was beside her in an instant, breath ragged, the crimson glow of sacrifice still flickering in his eyes. He had paid the price. The unknown realm had accepted it, but not without consequence.
"You okay?" he asked, kneeling as his fingers brushed her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "It let us go."
"No," Raven murmured. "It released us. There's a difference."
Around them, the world trembled. The sky above was veined with dark lightning, tearing at the fabric between realms. Below, the earth cracked with whispers—voices of those who had never left.
"We're not out yet," Lyra said, her voice still shaky. "It gave us a door, not a path."
The realm behind them was closing like a mouth that had tasted too much of what it should never have had. But in front, the veil thinned—transparent, yet still blocking them like a heartbeat away from home.
Raven stood, helping Lyra to her feet. "There's one final fight."
"To leave?"
"To deserve leaving."
From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged. Not masked. Not cloaked. Just… wrong.
The creature had no face, but Lyra felt it watching her—watching them—with an intimacy that chilled her bones.
"You're the last gatekeeper," she whispered.
It didn't speak. It didn't need to. Its form flickered, and then suddenly, it was them—two reflections made of ash and broken light. Lyra's magic. Raven's hunger. Their fears. Their bond. Twisted. Mocked.
"They're fighting with us," Raven muttered.
"No." Lyra's hands sparked, fire laced with frost. "They're fighting against what we've become."
The gatekeeper attacked first—silent and swift. Raven met it head-on, his movements a blur of shadow and fang, while Lyra weaved her magic through the cracks in the realm. Every blow they landed weakened it, but every strike they received reminded them that they weren't whole. Not yet.
"We have to do this together," she cried out.
Raven nodded, breathless. "Then show me."
She reached for his hand. Magic surged. Pain seared. But when their fingers met, the realm screamed. The creature stumbled, flickering violently.
They moved as one now—fire and darkness. Hunger and heart.
The gatekeeper lunged again, faster this time, its movements now erratic—desperate. Raven met its assault with sharp precision, his blade clashing against the creature's smoky limbs. Sparks flew as steel bit into mist, only for the enemy to reform again and again.
Lyra twisted beside him, her hands glowing with a dangerous light. She summoned fire first, hurling it in controlled arcs that wrapped around the creature, searing the air with every pass. The enemy flickered through it, unharmed—but slowed.
"Hold it!" she shouted.
Raven surged forward, using her flames as a cover, slashing low then high, trying to corner the creature in a burst of raw fury. It retaliated, knocking him off his feet with a pulse of dark energy. He hit the ground hard, coughing.
The creature turned to Lyra, shadows extending like tendrils. It tried to wrap around her magic, crush it—but her power flared defiantly, blue fire splitting the darkness.
She didn't retreat. Instead, she advanced, her steps steady, eyes wild with fury and purpose. "You want our bond?" she hissed. "Then feel it."
She reached for Raven, who rose and grabbed her hand with no hesitation. The instant their skin touched, the magic exploded.
The creature wailed.
Their magic danced—Raven's hunger-laced shadows moving like wings behind him, Lyra's elemental fire roaring to life in a spiraling storm. Together, they became chaos incarnate.
They struck in perfect rhythm. Lyra trapped the creature in a cyclone of fire laced with ice. Raven dashed through the smoke, blade glowing with her flame. He cut once, twice, thrice—each strike a memory of what they'd fought for.
The gatekeeper staggered.
Then Lyra sent a final bolt of magic straight into Raven's sword. The runes on it ignited, ancient and primal.
Raven leapt. One clean, blinding slash.
The creature shattered—no cry, no resistance. Just light bursting from within before it was gone.
Silence.
Then, the veil opened.
Lyra stepped forward, heart pounding, but the world didn't fight her anymore.
"You sure you're ready to go back?" Raven asked.
She glanced at him. "I'm not sure the world is ready for us."
He smiled faintly. "Good."
They stepped through together.
And the realm behind them closed—silent, scarred, and still watching.