Will he be able to find her, when the boundaries between dimensions fade like breath on glass? And if he does—will Kai still recognize the girl who no longer fully belongs to his world?
And the world split open.
But not in violence.
Not in light.
In truth.
Lina staggered as the floor beneath her dissolved—not into darkness, but into memory. Not hers. Not entirely.
She saw hands—not her hands—signing a contract in a room without doors. A voice whispering in her ear in a language older than time. A scar opening across her throat—not real, not now, but remembered. And through it all, a single thread of thought:
"Choose, and I'll give you power. Forget, and I'll keep you safe."
She fell forward—and the moment shattered.
---
Lina blinked.
She was no longer on the stardust bridge.
She stood inside a library made of bones and glass, stretching infinitely in every direction. Each book hovered in midair, some whispering softly, some crying. Runes scrawled themselves across open pages in blood-red ink.
Kai was nowhere in sight.
But the Curator was there. Watching. Always watching.
He stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, as though she were a guest in his manor.
"Where is he?" Lina asked, her voice low.
"Safe," said the Curator. "For now. I needed your attention. Alone."
"You separated us."
"I separated a variable," he corrected. "I wanted to see what you'd do when you weren't being… protected."
She glared at him. "You talk like this is some kind of experiment."
"It is," he said calmly. "Everything is. You are. A paradox that should not exist—yet here you are, again and again, world after world, breaking everything you touch and wondering why it all falls apart."
He stepped closer. The mirrored mask gleamed with fractured reflections—hundreds of Linas, each with a different fate.
"You think you're special because you survive?" the Curator said. "Because you fight back? Because you ask questions?"
Lina's fingers twitched. The shard had returned to her palm, heavier now.
"You still don't understand what you are," he said, voice quiet now, like silk sliding across stone. "You're not the first. You're not even the original. Just the most persistent."
Her breath caught. "That girl by the lake… she said she was the first me."
He nodded. "She was. The one who made the deal. The one who opened the first gate willingly."
"Then why am I the one standing here?"
"Because she broke," he said, stepping even closer. "You didn't."
He raised a hand—and the library trembled. The air rippled, and before Lina, a window opened in the void.
She saw herself—an earlier self—on her knees, screaming as her world collapsed.
Saw another, older, walking into fire, crown on her head.
Another, smiling as a knife slid into her back.
And another, eyes dark, whispering words that shattered a city.
"I've seen what you can become," the Curator said. "What you will become. You're not the hero in every world, Lina."
"I never asked to be."
"Exactly," he whispered. "And yet you keep choosing. Keep running. Keep opening gates. What if I told you this isn't about saving the worlds anymore? It's about choosing which you gets to survive."
Lina's heart pounded.
"Why me?" she asked, hoarse.
The Curator tilted his head. "Because you're the only one left who still believes there's a better version of herself out there."
And suddenly, Lina felt it—hundreds of versions of her, clawing at the edges of reality. Each wanting to live. Each desperate to become the real one.
The Curator raised both hands.
A thousand mirrors exploded into view.
And in every one—Lina saw herself making a choice. Kill or spare. Stay or run. Trust or betray. Love or leave.
"I can help you choose," he said, voice like velvet. "The strongest. The kindest. The one most likely to survive what comes next."
"No," she breathed. "That's not your choice."
"It was never yours either," the Curator snapped, suddenly sharp. "You're not the architect here, girl. You're a function. A key. And now that you've remembered just enough, it's time."
"For what?"
He extended his hand.
And the last door opened.
---
From the darkness, a pulse came. Familiar.
Kai's voice, faint: "Lina—don't trust him—"
She turned—
But too late.
The light swallowed her whole.
The Power That Shouldn't Be
Lina fell.
But it wasn't falling like before—through doors, across stars, into storms.
This fall was silent.
Internal.
Like something inside her had split, and now gravity had no meaning.
She hit the ground—only it wasn't ground.
It was liquid light. Shifting. Breathing. Responding to her pulse.
She rose to her knees, breath ragged, and that's when it happened.
The heat.
It started in her spine—then raced across her limbs like wildfire, until her veins burned with a silver-blue glow. Her fingers curled, trembling. Something inside her had… woken up.
Power. Raw and feral.
Not like the shard. Not like the echoes.
This was hers.
But it didn't feel like her.
She screamed—not from pain, but from panic. Her eyes flared silver, and the space around her warped. Air folded. Light bled. She reached out, trying to hold onto something real—
And stepped forward.
Right into somewhere else.
---
The pressure dropped.
Silence pressed in like velvet.
She opened her eyes—and gasped.
This wasn't a world. It was between worlds.
Planets floated like lanterns in a glass sea. Stars danced in fractal spirals. Ribbons of space curled through the void, like brushstrokes on a divine canvas. Everything shimmered, suspended in a cosmic hush—as if the multiverse was watching itself dream.
Lina stood on an invisible surface, heart pounding. The power within her pulsed again, aching to be released.
"Where am I?" she whispered.
A voice answered—not in words, but in presence.
She turned.
There, a few paces away, stood another her.
But unlike the others, this one wore no version of her past life. She wore something ancient, layered in translucent veils that shifted like smoke. Her eyes glowed—not silver, but deep violet, like nebulae wrapped in ice.
And beside her—
A creature.
No wings. No claws. Just formless grace—like a shadow made of light. Its eyes held galaxies.
The other Lina watched her. Silent. Assessing. Not hostile—but not welcoming either.
"You feel it now, don't you?" the other Lina finally said.
Lina's lips parted. "What… is it?"
The strange twin didn't answer.
Instead, the creature beside her stepped forward. And as it did, Lina felt the power within her rise again—wilder this time, hungry and alive.
The other Lina whispered, "Be careful. That power doesn't belong to just one self."
Lina blinked. "Then who—?"
Before she could finish, the entire dimension shivered.
A ripple of energy washed over them—like something… or someone… trying to pierce through the veil between realities.
Far away—like a beacon in fog—she felt him.
Kai.
He was searching. Reaching. Fighting through walls she couldn't see.
She took a breath. Her fingers curled tighter as the force inside her surged again.
Too strong.
Too fast.
If she lost control here, she didn't know what would break first—this realm, or herself.
The creature stared into her, as if weighing her soul.
The other Lina spoke once more.
"You need to decide. Soon. Before the others find you first."
Lina's voice shook. "What others?"
But she already knew.
The Curator wasn't the only one watching.
And not all of them wanted her to survive.
Will he be able to find her, when the boundaries between dimensions fade like breath on glass? And if he does—will Kai still recognize the girl who no longer fully belongs to his world?
The One Who Carries the Gate
Lina clutched her chest as the heat intensified, blooming like a second heartbeat beneath her skin. It wasn't pain—not exactly. It was pressure. Like something ancient had been buried inside her for lifetimes, and now, it was clawing its way out.
Her vision blurred. Symbols shimmered at the edge of her sight—circular, shifting, alive.
She staggered, gasping.
It was as if her body had become a vessel, barely able to contain whatever was waking within.
Her fingers sparked.
Silver light danced along her arms, arcing up to her shoulders, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat. The shard was gone, but this—this power—was not from the shard. It was older. More hers than anything she'd ever held.
And the worst part?
She didn't know what it wanted.
She didn't know what she would become.
Her breath caught again. The world around her twisted—and she stumbled forward, accidentally stepping into something invisible, unseeable, unreal—
And fell.
---
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer on stone, or in a chamber.
She stood on nothing and everything. The realm around her was like a vast sea of glass, stars drifting below and above, space folding into brushstrokes of color and silence. It wasn't a world—it was between worlds. The multiverse laid bare, suspended in a breathless moment.
And then, she saw her.
Another Lina.
This one wore no armor, no scars. She stood barefoot in layered veils that shifted like smoke, her eyes glowing with deep violet light. Regal. Unshaken.
Beside her stood a creature unlike any Lina had seen—shadow and light braided into form, its eyes deep as galaxies, its presence unearthly.
"You feel it now, don't you?" the twin said.
Lina stepped back. "What… is it?"
The twin didn't answer.
The creature just stared.
The power inside Lina pulsed again, stronger, and she dropped to her knees. Her arms shook. Her skin glowed brighter. She was unraveling—and no one could stop it.
A sudden flash split the stillness.
A rift tore open behind her—and through it, he came.
"Kai."
He stumbled out, breathless, eyes wild—until they locked on her. And then…
He saw both of her.
Two Linas. No differences. No tells. Both real.
Kai froze. "What… the hell is this?"
The twin Lina turned first. Calm. Measured. "You came through. Impressive."
Kai ignored her. He stepped closer to the other Lina—the one who now trembled, silver light flickering through her veins.
"Say something," he said.
"It's me," she whispered.
"Which one?" he demanded. "Which one of you remembers me?"
"I bled on the stones in Xireth," Lina gasped. "I saw the mirrors break. You held me after the fifth fall—"
Kai stared, something shifting in him. That was all he needed.
"That's her," he said.
The twin didn't flinch. She only smiled—softly, like a secret.
"Then you've made your choice," she murmured. "But the multiverse hasn't."
Suddenly, Lina screamed.
Not from fear—but from too much.
The power inside her surged violently, and her eyes went white-hot. Sparks flew from her fingers, cracking the air. The invisible surface beneath her shattered like crystal.
"Kai—get back!" she cried, but it was too late.
A wave of force burst from her body, throwing Kai off his feet. The stars twisted. The sky tore.
"She's not stable," the twin warned.
Kai stood. "What's happening to her?"
"The deal she made—it came with a cost," the twin said quietly. "Power without anchor will unravel the self. She's already breaking."
"I didn't ask for this," Lina sobbed, clutching her head. "I don't want to hurt anyone—"
But the energy wouldn't listen.
More light ripped out of her, and space bent around them. Beneath their feet, broken worlds spun past—dozens of Linas frozen mid-choice. One laughing. One crying. One turning away.
Kai didn't move. He walked to her—burns on his hands, eyes fierce.
"I'm not leaving you," he said. "Not again."
Lina looked up.
Her light dimmed.
Just a little.
The creature beside the twin shifted—observing. Weighing.
"If you really want to save her," the twin said softly, "then go with her. Into the last gate. Into your undoing."
Lina heard it.
Because inside her—beneath all the pain and power—something else was opening.
Not a door.
A gate.
She was the key.
She had always been.
And now, the multiverse was pulling her in.
---
Will he be able to find her, when the boundaries between dimensions fade like breath on glass? And if he does—will Kai still recognize the girl who no longer fully belongs to his world?