The chamber pulsed with quiet power as Evelyne held the ancient scroll in trembling hands. Its ink glimmered faintly, a constellation of rewritten choices, actions unmade, and consequences waiting in the wings. Alaira stood at her side, vigilant, her presence grounding Evelyne more firmly than any anchor spell ever could.
"Are you ready?" Alaira asked gently.
"No," Evelyne whispered, "but I have to be."
The scroll bore no title—only motion. With each line she read, reality twisted slightly around her. Echo, the guardian of the Lost Library, circled them with light steps, her form flickering like candlelight in a storm.
"These records don't lie," Echo murmured. "You have fractured the Rift far more than any who came before you, Evelyne. But that does not mean you have failed. It means the world is listening."
"The world?" Evelyne echoed, brows furrowed.
"The sentient memory of time," Echo said. "And it is watching the bond you've chosen."
Evelyne turned to Alaira then, and for the first time since anchoring, she noticed something strange: a golden tether, so thin it looked like silk, glowing faintly between them. It pulsed with life.
"Is that…?" she began.
Alaira nodded solemnly. "It's the bond. A side effect of what you did. You tethered your being to mine. It's no longer just symbolic—it's metaphysical. You changed time, Evelyne, and time accepted me as your constant."
Evelyne looked at the scroll again. "Then why is it showing so many fractures still?"
"Because time is alive, and alive things fear change," Echo said. "But it adapts. Slowly. Painfully."
Suddenly, the scroll's final lines shimmered and bled together, transforming into a warning:
"One must burn so the other can live. Timeline convergence imminent. Prepare."
Evelyne's heart stilled. "Burn? What does that mean?"
Echo's voice turned brittle. "You changed too much, too fast. You tore apart one ending, and now the timeline is trying to fuse two realities into one. In every possibility where you lived past Chapter Ten, something else perished to compensate."
Alaira took a protective step forward. "Then tell us what we need to do."
"The Rift must be sealed from within," Echo said. "You will have to step into the core and convince time to accept a new narrative... or offer it one it finds more compelling."
"You mean a sacrifice," Evelyne said.
Echo nodded once. "Or a truth so powerful, time will kneel."
Evelyne looked at Alaira again. Her loyal companion—no, her constant. Their bond had deepened, shifted into something unsaid but potent.
"There must be another way."
"There always is," Echo whispered, eyes gleaming. "But not all lead back."
A tremor rattled the chamber, scrolls falling from the shelves like dead leaves. Time was unraveling.
Alaira grabbed Evelyne's hand. "We go together."
"No," Evelyne said softly, "you're my anchor. If I go in, you stay. Otherwise, we both drift."
"I won't lose you."
"You won't," Evelyne promised. "I need you to believe that."
For a moment, the world shrank—just them, fingers laced, tether glowing.
Then she stepped toward the Rift.
It opened like a maw, a swirling storm of memories and possible futures. Evelyne hesitated only once before plunging into the storm.
Inside, she saw herself—every version. Cruel. Gentle. Terrified. Brave. Dead.
They surrounded her like ghosts of a life rewritten.
She screamed into the chaos, "I choose to live!"
Silence answered.
"I choose to love!"
A heartbeat.
"I choose Alaira."
And time heard her.
The Rift shuddered. The scroll she'd left behind ignited in blue flame. A roar echoed through the chamber, and the tether between her and Alaira snapped tight with searing force.
Then—stillness.
Evelyne awoke in the Library's center, curled in Alaira's lap, the guardian Echo watching from a distance, fading like a memory granted peace.
Alaira brushed back her hair, eyes wet. "You're here. You came back."
"I always will," Evelyne whispered.
And from somewhere in the cracks of time, the Rift sealed itself, not with a tear—but with a vow.