The world reassembled around Aria in a single, violent breath.
Cold air hit her first—sharp, thin, metallic. Then the ground beneath her boots, smooth as glass. Then the sky above, a vast expanse of swirling white and gold, shifting like a living storm.
The Herald released her hand.
They were no longer in the Citadel.
They were nowhere she recognized.
Aria staggered, instinctively clutching her stomach. The child's presence flared in response—warm, steady, alert. Not afraid this time. Watching.
The Demon King materialized beside her a heartbeat later, shadows snapping into place around him like armor. He scanned the horizon, jaw tight.
Aria turned in a slow circle.
They stood on a platform suspended in an endless void—no walls, no edges, no visible support. Just a floating disc of pale stone carved with runes that pulsed faintly beneath her feet.
"What is this place?" she asked.
The Herald stepped forward, cloak drifting like smoke. "The Threshold."
Aria frowned. "Threshold to what?"
"To the Sanctuary."
She looked around again. "This doesn't look like a sanctuary."
"It is not meant to. The Sanctuary lies beyond the veil. Only those with the key may cross."
Aria's stomach tightened. "The child."
"Yes."
The Demon King moved closer to her, his presence colder than usual. "Why bring us here now?"
"Because the Primordial has already begun searching," the Herald said. "And others have sensed the beacon."
Aria stiffened. "Others?"
The Herald's mask tilted toward her. "You carry a force that does not belong to any realm. Every being that hungers for power will feel it."
Aria pressed a hand to her stomach. "They're not a weapon."
"No," the Herald agreed. "But they will be seen as one."
A low vibration rippled through the platform.
Aria froze. "What was that?"
The Herald's head snapped toward the void. "Too soon."
The Demon King stepped in front of Aria. "What approaches?"
The Herald didn't answer.
The void did.
A tear opened in the air—thin at first, then widening with a sound like cracking ice. Darkness seeped through, thick and oily, swirling into a shape that made Aria's skin crawl.
A figure stepped out.
Tall.
Armored.
Eyes burning like coals.
Aria's breath caught. "Who—"
The Demon King's voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. "A Reaver."
The Herald's cloak flared. "It should not be here."
The Reaver's gaze locked onto Aria.
Not the Demon King.
Not the Herald.
Her.
Its voice was a rasp of metal on stone. "The beacon lives."
Aria stepped back instinctively, hand flying to her stomach. The child reacted instantly—heat flaring beneath her ribs, fierce and protective.
The Reaver tilted its head. "The beginning stirs."
The Demon King moved between them, shadows rising like a wall. "You will not touch her."
The Reaver didn't even look at him. "You cannot shield what calls to the void."
Aria's pulse spiked. "What do you want?"
The Reaver's burning eyes narrowed. "To claim what the Primordial seeks."
Aria's stomach twisted. "You're working for it."
"No," the Reaver said. "I am working against it."
That stopped her cold.
"Against?" she echoed.
The Reaver stepped closer, ignoring the Demon King's shadows. "The Primordial wishes to shape the child. I wish to consume it."
Aria's blood turned to ice.
The child's warmth surged—hotter, sharper, almost painful.
The Reaver inhaled slowly, as if savoring the air. "It grows stronger. I can taste it."
Aria's voice broke. "Stay away from us."
The Reaver smiled—a horrible, jagged thing. "I will take what I desire."
The Herald moved.
A flash of white light cut through the air, slamming into the Reaver's chest. The creature staggered but didn't fall.
"You cannot win here," the Herald warned.
"I do not need to win," the Reaver replied. "I only need to reach her."
It lunged.
Aria didn't think.
The child reacted first.
A burst of heat exploded from her core—blinding, fierce, instinctive. It shot outward in a wave of golden fire, slamming into the Reaver with enough force to crack the platform beneath them.
The Reaver screamed.
The Demon King grabbed Aria, pulling her back as the creature staggered, armor melting, shadows peeling away from its form.
The Herald raised both hands, runes igniting across their cloak. "Now!"
The platform split open beneath the Reaver.
A chasm of white light swallowed it whole.
Silence crashed over the Threshold.
Aria collapsed to her knees, shaking. The child's warmth pulsed wildly—frantic, protective, burning.
The Demon King knelt beside her. "Aria."
She pressed a hand to her stomach, breath trembling. "They… they did that."
"Yes."
The Herald approached, voice softer now. "The child is awakening faster than expected."
Aria swallowed hard. "Is that good or bad?"
"Both."
The Demon King's shadows tightened. "We must reach the Sanctuary. Now."
The Herald nodded. "Then the child must open the veil."
Aria looked up, heart pounding. "How?"
The Herald pointed to the empty air before them.
A faint shimmer rippled there—like a curtain waiting to be pulled aside.
"Tell them," the Herald said, "to open the way."
Aria pressed both hands to her stomach.
The child stirred.
Warm.
Bright.
Ready.
She whispered, "Open it."
The air split.
Light poured through.
The Sanctuary called.
And Aria stepped forward.