Tyla’s POV
The Third Path
Darkness held me.
Not the absence of light—this was something else. A space between heartbeats. Between choices. Between what had been and what was still forming.
I floated there, suspended in awareness without a body, without pain, without fear. The Mark inside my chest no longer burned. It sang—a low, steady resonance that threaded through me like a second pulse, perfectly in time with my own.
Not forcing.
Not pulling.
Waiting.
I understood then that this place wasn’t punishment or mercy.
It was transition.
A breath before becoming.
I didn’t know how long I drifted—time felt optional here—but eventually sensation returned in layers. First warmth. Then pressure. Then the undeniable weight of gravity tugging me back into myself.
My fingers twitched.
A
