The river didn't collapse like water.
It imploded.
The towering walls of suspended liquid curved inward, spiraling around Manraj as if obeying a command older than the riverbed itself. The air turned cold and thick—every breath Zoya took felt like swallowing ice shards.
She held onto Manraj with everything she had.
But he wasn't just slipping.
He was rising.
Not floating.
Being pulled.
"Manraj—MANRAJ—LOOK AT ME!" Zoya screamed, digging her nails into his arm.
He didn't look.
He didn't hear her.
His eyes—glowing spirals of amber and white—were fixed on the water-entity approaching through the collapsing river.
Azhar slammed his palms into the cracking earth, shadows bracing against the boundary like a storm trapped in chains.
"ZOYA—DON'T LET GO!" he shouted.
"I'M NOT—HE'S— I CAN'T—" she sobbed.
Manraj's body arched as light burst from the symbols across his chest.
White. Silver. Amber.
Twisting together like three serpents.
The river-entity paused mid-step, liquid limbs rippling with tension.
It whispered:
"YOU REMEMBER.
GOOD."
Manraj inhaled—a deep, unnatural breath that made the ground vibrate beneath Zoya's knees.
His voice came out layered, shaped by two beings speaking through the same lungs:
"I remember what you did."
Zoya froze.
Azhar stopped struggling.
Even the guardian's six eyes flickered.
The entity tilted its shifting head.
"…You were broken without me."
Manraj's glow intensified.
"I wasn't broken," he said. "I was taken."
Thunder cracked across the river.
The collapsing water froze mid-motion—vertical sheets suspended around them like hanging mirrors.
Zoya's pulse spiked.
"Manraj—HEY—HEY—COME BACK TO—"
He didn't hear her.
He was speaking to the thing that made him.
"I wasn't forged. I was born, and YOU—"
The river-entity stepped closer.
Water curled around its torso like armor.
"—were torn from me," Manraj finished.
Zoya's breath caught.
Because that wasn't accusation in his tone.
It was realization.
Painful. Ancient. Shared.
The entity's form rippled violently—like it couldn't hold its shape.
"That is why you must return," it murmured. "We were never meant to exist apart."
Azhar snarled through clenched teeth:
"Manraj—LISTEN TO ME—DON'T LET THAT THING INSIDE YOUR HEAD—!"
Manraj turned his head slightly.
Just slightly.
Enough for Zoya to see that flicker of recognition.
Enough for Azhar to hope.
And then—
The ground cracked wide beneath them.
A perfect circle.
A ring of white light cut Zoya and Azhar completely away from Manraj.
"No—NO—NO—NO—NO—" Zoya screamed, clawing at the glowing boundary. "MANRAJ—COME HERE—COME BACK—!"
The barrier pulsed.
Her Silence shattered the moment it touched it—folding into static that stabbed her skull.
Azhar staggered beside her holding his ears.
"That's a ROOT SEAL—Zoya, you CAN'T break it—!"
She didn't stop trying.
She screamed, pounded, slammed her palms again and again—
"MANRAJ—LOOK AT ME!
LOOK AT ME—PLEASE—"
At the center of the collapsing river, Manraj hung in mid-air.
The entity reached out.
Not grabbing.
Offering.
"COME HOME, ERYTH."
Manraj didn't move.
He only whispered:
"I remember… everything…"
Zoya's tears blurred the world.
"Then remember ME too—please—Manraj—"
He blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
Like two memories were overlapping.
Eryth.
Manraj.
The air warped around him.
His chest flared so brightly Zoya had to shield her eyes.
"NO—NO—DON'T GO—DON'T LEAVE—" she begged, voice breaking into pieces.
Azhar pressed a shaking hand to the boundary.
"Manraj… choose right."
The water-entity extended both of its rippling hands now.
"YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE HALF," it murmured.
"I WILL MAKE YOU WHOLE."
Manraj lifted his face toward it.
And whispered:
"…I don't want to be whole if it means being yours."
The river-entity froze.
Zoya gasped.
Azhar's shadows surged.
The guardian roared—a sound like stone breaking against stone.
The water around them exploded—
and Manraj ignited.
White. Amber. Silver.
A tri-light that shook the river, the trees, the bank—everything.
Zoya collapsed to her knees.
Azhar shielded her.
The entity recoiled—its form destabilizing, collapsing inward like water boiling from the inside.
"ERYTH—" it thundered, voice cracking. "You REFUSE—your own ROOT—?"
Manraj's voice thundered back—no longer layered, but his:
"I CHOOSE MYSELF."
The river shattered.
The boundary cracked.
Zoya screamed his name—
"MANRAJ!"
The light swallowed him.
Everything went white.