Chapter 35 · The Final Gambit

"Don't you dare close your eyes, Viviane!"

Silas screamed, lunging through the searing white light. He didn't just run—he tore through the collapsing space. The air tasted like ozone and burnt copper. Every inch of his skin felt like it was being peeled back by a thousand invisible needles. Around them, the sanctuary was shattering into jagged shards of glass and memory.

Viviane lay in the center of the storm. Her white Inquisitor's robes were ruined, stained with blood and ash. The crimson pact-mark on her collarbone wasn't pulsing anymore. It was strobing. A violent, erratic warning that the clock had run out.

"Get away from me," she whispered.

She tried to push him, but her hands were shaking. Her fingers barely brushed his chest, lacking any strength. "It's over, Silas. He's... he's using me to lock the door. If I stay, the loop ends. If I go, we both vanish."

"Then we vanish together!"

Silas grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the cold stone floor. Logic didn't matter. The Holy See didn't matter.