The vault of glass cried.
Not shattered—
not yet—
but fractured in thin, spreading lines that sang as they formed, a high, aching sound that crawled through the chamber and refused to settle. Each crack carried tone. Each tone carried weight.
Within the core, Rose stood braced against the glass wall, frost etched along her arms and shoulders, breath shallow with concentration. Her hands were pressed flat, fingers splayed, runes burning faintly as she held the structure together by will alone.
She was too focused on the glass to notice what was rising beneath it.
Red.
Blue.
Purple.
They swirled from below like currents that had lost patience, three distinct frequencies twisting together, no longer harmonizing—no longer restraining themselves.
Their song surged.
Not as sound alone, but as pressure.
Rose's head snapped up as the pitch climbed, sharp and invasive. The vibration slammed through her skull, rattling her vision, blurring the world at the edges. Her hands trembled against the glass. Her fingers locked for a heartbeat too long, muscles seizing as if the sound itself had reached inside her and pulled.
Her eyes vibrated in their sockets.
Her teeth clenched.
It wasn't pain.
It was denial.
A force that refused to let her act, refused to let her finish what she had begun.
Outside the core, the frequency bled through.
Muted—but unmistakable.
The chamber stiffened as one.
Raya's back tensed instinctively, her posture sharpening as if bracing for a strike that hadn't come yet. Valeum flinched, his monster-side flickering in and out like a broken reflection, features glitching as the sound scraped along something deep and unhealed.
Weaver's threads jerked violently in the air, zig-zagging instead of flowing, unable to listen—unable to follow the song the way they always had.
But Elysia—
Elysia heard words.
Her breath caught, small hands curling at her sides as the meaning pushed past the noise and struck her cleanly. Her eyes widened, not with confusion, but with terror at what was being said.
She swallowed.
"They're asking Rose to stop."
The room stilled.
Weaver turned toward her sharply, disbelief cutting through his usual restraint.
"You can understand this?" he asked. "As words?"
Elysia nodded, eyes unfocused, sensing something vast pressing in from the other side. She took a step forward without thinking.
Weaver's hands shot out, stopping her.
"Stay put," he said tightly. "I still need to observe."
Raya watched him—watched the hesitation flicker across his face.
This was the Weaver she remembered.
Not the elder he had become, but the man beneath the years, pulled backward by pressure, by fear, by the weight of too many outcomes at once.
"Weaver," she said calmly, stepping closer. "Elysia intends to act. I insist we do this for your companions' sake."
His jaw tightened.
"You only want Rose to help him," he replied, pointing briefly toward Valeum before looking away. "I intend to save the—"
The word nearly escaped.
The name.
It lodged in his throat, painful and sharp. He closed his eyes, the title cutting deeper than any wound.
"I want to save Allium and Rose," he said instead. "There are too many variables."
Raya heard the truth in that.
She moved closer, voice soft but steady.
"Too many, then first steps only. What first, Weaver?"
Silence stretched.
Too much input. Not enough clarity. His mind churned, a maze folding in on itself. Then his gaze shifted—to Valeum.
An idea surfaced.
"Valeum," Weaver said carefully. "I need to request something from you."
He glanced to Elysia as well.
"And you, dear."
Both turned toward him, eagerness flickering behind hesitation.
Weaver approached them not as a controller—but as a man carrying concern in both hands.
"I ask that you go inside the core," he said. "I will attach threadings to your being." His eyes met Elysia's. "You're able to turn it off… so you can turn it back on. They need your power in there."
Valeum's reaction was immediate—almost physical.
As if part of him wasn't sure what would survive the crossing.
Elysia's response was different. Still uncertain, but lighter—like permission had been granted to act on something she had always felt but never dared to trust.
Valeum shook his head.
"Valeum has spoken," he said, shoulders slumping. "Valeum would perish."
Elysia straightened.
She held the core firmly now, hair lifting gently in the energy she channeled.
"I can try," she said simply. "They need our help."
Valeum's head snapped toward her.
"No!" He shook violently. "Little light! Valeum does not want you to perish! Little light cannot—"
Raya stepped in before his fear could spiral further, placing gentle hands against his head, grounding him, stilling the storm of thoughts.
"Valeum," she said softly. "You are needed. This may help you attain your purity. Rose purified walks alone and still lives. You will not perish."
He heard her—but fear clung tight.
He scratched at his legs, breathing hard, shaking his head as he lowered himself, arms folding inward to shield his face.
Raya turned to Weaver.
"What is your plan? Does this require Valeum?"
"He's needed as a retriever," Weaver replied evenly. "A hand to Rose, so she may be pulled out. I can still attempt this with my threads—but he increases the odds."
Raya nodded once.
"And Elysia?"
Weaver drew a slow breath.
"She carries Virel's energy—similar to the Tree. Perhaps she can open a large enough breach from the other side. Enough to allow them to leave. Enough to empower the core itself."
Elysia's eyes widened.
She had always known her energy came from Virel—life given, not taken.
She had never imagined it might be enough.
"Do you… do you think I can do this?" she asked quietly.
Weaver didn't hesitate.
"I noticed it just by seeing you," he said. "You're young—but this may be the test that truly hones your abilities."
He looked to Raya.
She watched him closely.
He stood at a threshold now—one step from returning to the old ways, to control, to command.
But he didn't cross it.
He waited.
"This isn't a creator," Raya realized.
"This is a mirror of myself."
She nodded.
"I consent to this," she said. "You have my help. Please… don't allow any harm to come to her."
Weaver inclined his head.
He moved to Elysia, threads unfurling with care, cradling the core gently rather than binding it.
"Focus your energy to a single point," he instructed, highlighting a thin, luminous thread against the core. "Here. This is where you'll enter."
Elysia tilted her head, uncertain.
"You are no Seraphim," Weaver continued softly. "But you are not a normal mortal being either."
He met her eyes.
"You are better. Once inside—let it all out. Do not hold back. Let it know who you are."
Elysia nodded.
Raya stepped beside Weaver.
"What of me?"
"Once she's inside," Weaver replied, "and releases her power, I'll need you to help me navigate it. Through that, I can retrieve Rose. Once she's out… Allium can be awakened."
Raya stayed close.
Weaver turned back to Elysia.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
The thread flared—blinding white.
Elysia leapt forward.
The dreamscape opened around her.
No darkness greeted her—
only the three energies pinning Rose against the massive glass wall, crushing her in their denial.
Rose struggled.
Made no ground.
Elysia clenched her fists.
And—
Breathes in….