The chamber sealed with a sound like a heartbeat stopping.
Elara felt it in her bones before she heard it the finality of stone knitting itself together, light hardening into bars, air thinning as if the room itself was deciding whether they were allowed to breathe.
“Draven,” she whispered again, softer this time, afraid the place might punish her for saying his name too loudly.
The restraints around him pulsed brighter, threads of light digging into his wrists, chest, throat. They weren’t chains. They were concepts rules made visible, binding him to a single moment that refused to move forward.
“Elara,” he said urgently, voice strained but clear. “Listen to me. This isn’t a prison. It’s a terminus.”
She swallowed. “Explain later,” she said, already moving toward him.
The symbols car
