Chapter 88
Chapter 88
Kaelen steps through the woven doorway into the violet-skied world of the first question. He crosses the field of white grass to the tower of glass and bone, where a figure of light and shadow awaits with the thread of final choice.
The arch swallowed him whole. For a breath, there was nothing—no ground, no light, no thread to guide him. Only the sensation of being pulled apart and woven together at once, as if his body were being rewritten strand by strand. Then his feet met solid earth, and the world snapped into focus.
The sky was violet, deep and bruised, with no sun or moon to cast shadows. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, a soft luminescence that made the white grass glow like bone. The grass stretched in all directions, silent and still, and at the horizon stood the tower: spiraling spires of glass that caught the violet light and refracted it into rainbows, their bases braced by ribs of pale bone that seemed to grow from the earth itself.
Kaelen turned. The doorway was gone. There was only the field, the tower, and the weight of the golden-silver thread still pulsing beneath his skin. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rhythm of it—a heartbeat that was not his own but had become part of him.
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