POV: MANRAJ + ZOYA
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MANRAJ — The Rift Between Realms
The Rift tasted like metal and memory.
Manraj drifted, suspended in a space that wasn't solid or liquid or even light.
White-gold flared above him — the Root's will.
Ink-black churned below — the Under-Root's hunger.
And he was the tear held between them.
Every breath stung like inhaling broken glass.
"Zoya…"
Her name felt heavier here, like it sank through the Rift instead of rising.
He tried to move — forward, backward, anywhere — but gravity didn't exist here. Motion required intention, and intention required clarity he didn't have.
He shut his eyes.
Tried again.
Not movement.
Focus.
"Where are you?"
The Rift pulsed.
A single beat.
Then a faint vibration — like the pluck of a string — hummed through the space around him.
Manraj startled.
"That wasn't the Root… or the Under-Root."
It felt familiar.
Like a breath.
Like a whisper.
Like her.
His heartbeat synced to the vibration instinctively.
19 → 19 → 19
Frozen.
But aware.
Manraj pressed his palm to his chest.
"Zoya… did you feel me?"
The Rift answered with another faint pulse—
Not in golden light.
Not in shadow.
But in something new.
A third tone.
A middle note.
A bridge between realms.
He inhaled sharply.
"…Zoya, that's you."
And for the first time since the split—
Hope flickered.
---
ZOYA — The Under-Root Depths
Everything beneath her feet trembled.
The Under-Root wasn't chasing her anymore — it was circling, tightening, drawing in like a trap deciding how to close.
Zoya sprinted across a field of pulsing roots, Silence trailing behind her like white fire.
"Come on… come on… where did you break through?"
Her entire body ached; the fall had been brutal, but stopping wasn't an option.
Not when Manraj was somewhere above — alone, maybe dying.
The Under-Root whispers swarmed:
"…shield runs… let her run… run deeper… so we can watch her fall…"
Zoya snarled and sent a slicing arc of Silence upward, cutting through a curtain of dripping shadows.
The shadows SCREAMED.
She didn't stop.
Then — she froze.
Her chest vibrated.
Not with fear.
Not with the Under-Root.
This vibration was familiar.
Like a heartbeat tuning itself to hers.
Zoya skidded to a halt, eyes widening.
"…Manraj?"
A tremor rippled through the Under-Root's floor, but this one wasn't hostile.
It was a pulse.
Deliberate.
Soft.
Calling.
Her breath hitched.
"Manraj—you're alive."
She pressed a hand to the root-ground.
"Do it again."
The darkness hesitated — as if listening to someone else.
A beat passed.
Then—
The vibration returned.
A second pulse.
Stronger.
Overlapping with her own breathing.
Zoya's lips parted.
"Oh, thank god…"
The Under-Root hissed in fury.
"…they sync… they sync… they must not sync…"
Zoya stood straighter.
"Too late."
---
MANRAJ — The Rift Responds
The Rift brightened as if someone had struck a match inside it.
Manraj flinched as a warm vibration rippled across his skin — like fingertips grazing his hand.
"Zoya?"
He reached toward the dark below.
Not plunging into it.
Not falling.
Just reaching.
A faint silhouette flickered in the black — not clear enough to see, but strong enough to sense.
He whispered:
"You're close. I can feel you."
The Rift pulsed again.
This time it tugged.
Gently.
Toward the lower boundary.
Toward her.
Manraj swallowed hard.
"I'm coming to you. Just… just stay where you are."
But the Rift cracked around him — lines of white and black splitting like glass.
Voices whipped through the air:
THE ROOT:
"THE VESSEL MUST ASCEND."
THE UNDER-ROOT:
"…the shield pulls him down…"
THE RIFT:
—a new voice—
something in-between—
"CHOOSE."
Manraj clenched his fists.
"There's nothing to choose."
He turned toward the dark.
Toward her.
"I already chose."
And he stepped forward.
---
ZOYA — The First Thread
The Under-Root floor split under her feet, but Zoya didn't back away.
Her Silence rose, shimmering — not white, but tinged faintly with gold.
Manraj's echo.
His presence.
His choice.
She could feel him — not above, not far, but near.
"Manraj… keep going. I'm right here."
The Under-Root shrieked:
"…no… they connect… they breach the divide…"
Zoya's voice was steady.
"No. We're crossing it."
She braced herself, Silence blazing around her like a shield expanding outward.
And then—
A sudden, sharp tug pulled her forward.
Not downward.
Not upward.
Sideways.
Across.
She gasped.
"That's not the Under-Root…"
She stared into the shifting darkness ahead.
And for one impossible second—
She saw him.
A silhouette.
Reaching.
Alive.
"Manraj—!"
She sprinted toward the shape—
And the Under-Root roared as the world shook in rage—
"…STOP THEM…"
But it was too late.
Their worlds had touched.
Their pulses synced.
And the first thread between them snapped into existence — thin, fragile, but unbreakable.