The world around Kaito was light and darkness, the edges of reality distorting as though reality itself was being torn apart.
The Abyss, that stationary form, was now shaking, its tendrils curling up and recoiling as though in fear.
Kaito felt the power within him surge, as though some ancient and primordial thing had awoken from the depths of his soul, stirring his soul and fueling his resolve.
Nyra's hand was still clutched in his, her fingers cold and trembling. In spite of the shaking, her pulse—though weak—was steady.
The Abyss had come close to shattering her, had come close to claiming her entirely and leaving nothing behind but a shell. But Kaito would not allow it. Not now. Not ever.
"Stay with me, Nyra," he breathed, his voice a strained whisper amidst the cacophonous scream of the darkness. "Don't let it have you."
She did not respond, but the merest whisper of recognition passed over her face—a flicker at the edge of her eye, a subtle tension in her posture.
