Chapter 1465: Story 1465: The Shard Between

The chamber was a storm of ruin. Stone split, bone splintered, and the Monarch’s roar pressed against every nerve like fire poured into the veins. Elena’s grip on Mira’s hand was all that tethered her to existence.

The glass crown above Mira’s head flickered between wholeness and fracture, shards trembling as if deciding whether to embed deeper or fall apart entirely. Her body was no longer flesh but a prism, every pulse of her heart scattering light that burned to look at.

“Elena…” Mira’s voice fractured, one syllable hers, the next stolen by the Monarch. “You—hold—me—back—”

“I won’t let go,” Elena gasped through clenched teeth. Blood streamed down her arms where the Monarch’s tendrils cut into her, but her grip only tightened. “I don’t care what it takes. You’re not theirs—you’re yours!”

The skeletal giants forced themselves through the gate, bending their dimensions to fit. Shoulders too broad snapped and reshaped, heads dragging halos of marrow flame. Each time one touched the chamber, reality screamed—walls warped, and air twisted into shards of glass that sliced across Elena’s skin.

The Monarch’s three skulls lunged close, each mouth opening over her. Their combined breath was rot and eternity. “The gate cannot close. The crown cannot break. You, mortal, cannot win.”

Elena forced herself to meet Mira’s crystalline gaze. For one moment, past the fractured fire and bleeding light, she saw her—the girl who laughed beneath broken lanterns, who sang badly but sang anyway, who had once saved her.

And something broke inside her. Not despair. Not surrender. Something fiercer.

“Elena!” Mira’s own voice surged again, riding a crack in the crown. “Do you remember—our promise—by the river?”

Elena’s breath hitched. The oath they made as children, whispering in the dark: never let go, no matter what pulled them under.

“I remember.” Elena’s words were a vow, raw and carved from the marrow of her being.

She released the shard-blade. It clattered to the ground. Then, with both hands, she gripped Mira’s burning body and pulled her close, embracing her even as her skin blistered and cracked.

The Monarch shrieked, thrashing its tendrils, trying to tear them apart. The giants screamed as their limbs caught in the narrowing gate, caught between worlds.

Elena’s blood smeared across Mira’s glasslike chest, sinking into the fractures of the crown. Red veins spidered through the glowing blue, twisting its perfection. Mira’s scream rose, not of pain but of release, her body vibrating like shattering crystal.

The crown cracked. One shard fell, then another, ringing like bells as they struck the stone.

The Monarch’s roar turned desperate. “No! The vessel is eternal! The marrow cannot—”

But Mira’s voice rose above it, clear and agonized and hers: “I am not your vessel!”

The gate stuttered, edges flaring, then convulsed inward. The skeletal giants shrieked as their bodies collapsed into dust, dragged back into the fissure. The Monarch’s three skulls recoiled, ichor pouring from their jaws, faces splitting in rage.

The crown shattered.

Blue fire exploded outward, filling the chamber with blinding brilliance. Elena clung tighter still, whispering into Mira’s burning shoulder: “I won’t let go. I promised.”

And in the shattering light, the Monarch’s reign cracked with them.