The First Road didn't crack apart. It unfolded.
Beneath Sarya's feet, the stones separated in slow, deliberate concentric sections, revealing darkness that had none of the chaos of a collapse. No debris fell. Nothing tore or splintered.
The Road simply opened, the way something might open when it had always been designed with this exact moment in mind.
The two other versions of her reacted differently. The older Sarya's face went white with alarm, her whole body shifting into something protective. The newer one — the one who spoke of survival at any cost — leaned forward instead, something bright and dangerous flickering behind her eyes.
Interest, Sarya realized. Not fear.
The Hunger, meanwhile, did nothing at all.
It didn't advance. It didn't seem to notice the opening as an opportunity the way it had noticed everything else. If anything, the vast shifting presence seemed to draw back, retreating a single, unmistakable step.
