The Final Gate shook with ancient power, a monolith constructed not of material but of memory—tall and terrifying at the rift's center.
Kael's hold on the bone and light key grew tight, its heat alive with familiarity. Beneath his feet, the platform vibrated with raw vibration, as if the wind of a world waiting to be named again.
Elira was beside him, her eyes on the rippling surface of the gate. Veils of deceit danced on it—truth distorted into lies, lies masquerading as memory. She could feel the weight of it in the bones, in the marrow of her being.
"This is it," she whispered. "The end of the Forbidden Path."
Kael shot her a look, violet eyes burning low and hot. "Or the beginning of everything else.".
Behind them, the world they had journeyed through—the tests, the broken echoes, the Keeper's eye—went dark into starlight. In front of them, the Final Gate.
He raised the key.
The gate sensed it.
The veils unmade themselves.
And the truth began to stir.
