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The bridge is already burning when Nora reaches it.
Flames crawl up the support ropes, eating through hemp and pitch. The walkway sways, twenty feet above the gorge. Kael's on the other side, fighting three soldiers in black cloaks—the same ones who ambushed the patrol last loop. Blood runs down his sword arm. He's slower than usual. Something's wrong.
"Kael!" She doesn't think. Just runs.
Mira grabs her shoulder. "Don't. That bridge won't hold."
"He's going to die if I don't."
"He'll die faster if you both go down."
Nora shakes her off. She doesn't have time to explain that she's watched him die three times already. That every loop, he takes the hit meant for someone else. That this time, she knows exactly when the blade's coming.
She hits the bridge at a sprint.
The planks groan under her boots. Smoke stings her eyes. She can see Kael's face now—jaw tight, eyes locked on the nearest attacker. He doesn't see the one circling left. The one with the poisoned knife.
"Left!" she screams.
He pivots. Blocks. The knife skitters across stone.
But the bridge lurches.
One of the support ropes snaps, whipping past her head. The whole structure tilts. Nora slams into the rail, splinters biting through her sleeve. Her stomach drops as the ground yaws beneath her.
Kael's eyes find hers across the gap.
"Go back," he says. Flat. Cold.
"Not a chance."
She crawls forward, using the rail to drag herself upright. The second rope is fraying fast. She can see individual threads popping, one by one.
The attackers don't care. They close in, moving in sync. Trained. Professional. One feints high. Another goes low. Kael deflects both, but he's backing up now, running out of bridge.
Nora's close enough to see the sweat on his neck. Close enough to smell blood and smoke and something bitter—poison, maybe, already in his veins.
"How many are behind you?" he snaps, not looking at her.
"None. Just me."
"Idiot."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
The third attacker lunges. Kael catches the blade on his vambrace, shoves the man back. But the movement costs him. His knee buckles. Just for a second. Just long enough.
The poisoned knife comes back around.
Nora doesn't think. She moves.
She hits Kael square in the chest, knocking him sideways. The knife grazes her ribs instead—hot, sharp, wrong. Pain flares white behind her eyes. Her legs give out.
Kael catches her before she hits the planks.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice cracks, just a little.
"Saving your ass," she gasps. "You're welcome."
The bridge shudders. Another rope snaps.
The world tilts vertical.
Nora's stomach flips as gravity lets go. She's falling, wind screaming in her ears, and all she can see is Kael's hand locked around her wrist. His weight pulling her down. Or hers pulling him.
She doesn't know which.
She just knows she's not letting go.
The mark on her wrist ignites.
It's not heat. It's wronger than that. Like her bones are trying to crawl out of her skin. Light spills from the burn scar, white and furious, and the air bends.
Time doesn't stop. But it stutters.
She sees the gorge below, rocks like broken teeth. Sees Kael's face, eyes wide, mouth shaping her name. Sees the bridge above them, ropes trailing fire.
And then she drags them both back.
She doesn't know how. She just reaches, the same way she'd reach for a patient's pulse, and pulls.
Reality snaps like a rubber band.
They hit the stone on the safe side of the gorge, tangled together, gasping. Nora's ribs scream. Her wrist is still glowing, bright enough to hurt. Kael's on top of her, one hand braced by her head, the other still locked around her arm.
"What did you do?" he breathes.
She can't answer. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but stare at his face, inches from hers, and feel the hammer of his heartbeat against her chest.
His eyes drop to her wrist. To the mark. Then back to her face.
"You're not human," he says. Not an accusation. A fact.
"I'm—" She coughs, tastes blood. "I'm a medic. From Earth. I already told you."
"Medics don't bend spacetime."
"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly sign up for this either."
Footsteps. Mira skids to a stop beside them, blade drawn, scanning for threats. "The attackers?"
"Fell," Kael says, still not moving. Still staring at Nora like she's a bomb that hasn't finished going off.
Nora shoves at his chest. "Get off. I can't breathe."
He moves, but not far. Just enough to crouch beside her, one hand hovering like he's not sure whether to help her up or pin her down.
Mira sheathes her blade. "We need to move. Now."
"Wait." Nora sits up, wincing. The knife wound burns, but it's shallow. She's had worse. "There were three of them. Where's the third?"
Kael's head snaps around.
The third attacker is sprawled ten feet away, cloak torn, neck bent wrong. Dead. Or dying. But his mouth is moving.
Nora crawls over, ignoring the way her ribs protest. She's close enough to hear him now. Close enough to see the light fading from his eyes.
"Third bell," he whispers. Blood bubbles on his lips. "He dies anyway."
"What does that mean?" Nora grabs his collar. "What's the third bell?"
He grins. Teeth red. Eyes empty.
"Ask the vault."
Then he's gone.
Nora sits back, pulse hammering. "What vault?"
Kael's already on his feet, jaw locked, fury bleeding through the cracks in his control. "The sealed one. Under the Keep."
"Why would—"
"Because that's where the ritual anchor is." His voice is flat. Dangerous. "The one that's supposed to be impossible to reach."
Mira swears under her breath.
Nora looks between them. "And if someone reaches it?"
"Then the wards fall," Kael says. "And the war comes through."
He turns, already moving. "We go. Now."
Nora staggers to her feet, ribs shrieking. Mira catches her elbow, steadies her.
"You good?"
"No," Nora says honestly. "But I'll move anyway."
They run.
The Keep's gates are still standing when they reach them. That's something. But the air tastes wrong—copper and ash and something older. Nora's wrist is still glowing, faint now, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
Kael doesn't slow until they're inside. Then he rounds on her, eyes blazing.
"What are you?"
"I told you—"
"You pulled us through spacetime." He steps closer. She backs up. Hits the wall. "You reset when you die. You have a soulmark you shouldn't have." Another step. His hand slams into the stone beside her head. "So I'll ask again. What are you?"
Nora's breath catches. He's close enough that she can see the gold flecks in his eyes. Close enough that his body heat soaks through her torn sleeve.
"I don't know," she says. Raw. Honest. "I don't know what I am anymore."
His jaw tightens. For a second, she thinks he's going to push harder. Demand answers she doesn't have.
Then his gaze drops to her side. To the blood soaking through her shirt.
"You're hurt."
"It's fine."
"It's poison."
He grabs her wrist—the marked one—and drags her down the hall. She stumbles after him, too off-balance to fight.
Mira watches them go, shaking her head. "This is going to end badly."
Kael kicks open the door to the med bay. It's barely a room—more like a closet with a cot and a cabinet full of dubious-looking bandages. He shoves Nora onto the cot, hard enough that she bounces.
"Shirt. Off."
"Excuse me?"
"The poison's spreading. I need to see the wound."
Nora pulls up the hem of her shirt, just high enough to expose the knife graze. It's already turning black at the edges, veins darkening beneath her skin.
Kael swears. He grabs a bottle from the cabinet, uncorks it with his teeth. The smell hits her first—astringent, bitter, wrong.
"This is going to hurt," he says.
"Yeah, I figured—"
He pours.
Nora bites down on a scream. Fire races through her ribs, her lungs, her spine. She can feel the poison fighting back, clawing at her veins. Then the mark on her wrist flares again, and the poison burns away.
Kael freezes. "How—"
"I don't know." Her voice shakes. "I don't know."
He stares at the wound. The skin's already knitting closed, pink and new.
"You're the anchor," he says quietly. "The reset anchor. That's why the loop won't break."
"What?"
"The war's tied to you." His eyes meet hers. Dark. Unreadable. "As long as you're alive, the loop holds. As long as you're here, the war can't spread."
"That doesn't make sense. I'm not—"
"The third bell." His hand closes over hers, right over the mark. Both scars flare, bright and hot. "It's not a time. It's a countdown."
Nora's heart stops.
"Three resets left," Kael says. "Then the anchor breaks. And he dies anyway."
The door slams open.
Mira's in the doorway, face white. "The vault. Someone's inside."