Chapter 40 The Chaos Beneath

Fynn POV The rift’s pull is a scream in my veins, a violent tug that rips me from the forest into a churning void of light and dark, gold and green clashing like a storm with no end. My light burns, a desperate flare against the chaos, but it’s slipping, fraying, as the world dissolves around me. Morgan’s arms are iron around my waist, his blood soaking my side, his breath ragged but unyielding, anchoring me to him, to us. Elena’s shout cuts through, sharp and fierce, her blade flashing uselessly against the swirling dark. Jake’s gripping Mira, their voices a fading echo as the rift swallows us whole, the ancient voice—*Warden, you cannot hold me*—a thunder in my skull, promising ruin.