Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The Shattered Range – the night the sky tore open
The sky tore like paper.
Lightning without thunder split the heavens into veins of violet flame, crawling across the cloud-choked expanse. A rift had formed—something ancient pressing at the edge of the world, eager to claw its way into the Hollow’s reality.
I stood frozen, my blade clutched in shaking hands.
The Echo of myself—this twisted future—smiled like a reflection stretched too far.
“I am what comes,” it said, its voice a mirror of my own, but deeper, hollowed out. “Not if you fall. Not if you die. But if you win.”
Behind me, Lyra staggered to her feet, the shard still pulsing in her hand.
“What are you?” she asked, voice trembling.
The Echo turned her gaze to Lyra.
“The key,” it said simply
