The chamber beyond the Guardian held a single relic: the Blood Writ. Suspended in anti-light, it pulsed like a dying star—impossible to look at directly, yet drawing Ethan's gaze like gravity.
It wasn't just a relic. It was a correction.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Temporal Cost Uncalculated – High-Order Attention Risk Imminent]
The Blood Writ shimmered, offering him one truth to rewrite. One moment to undo.
Ethan approached, hand extended.
"Don't," Aelira said, voice sharp. She stepped between him and the Writ. "You don't have to fix Kaelen's sins. You're not him."
His hand trembled. "But I remember them. I feel the weight."
Later, they sat outside the chamber, the starlight above like a frozen sky. Aelira leaned into him, her warmth real against the cold stone.
She traced a line across his chest—sigils dormant beneath his skin. "You're not a rewrite. You're something entirely new. That's why I trust you. That's why I'm still here."
He held her hand tightly.