The golden portal shimmered in the air like a tear in reality, casting a soft, unnatural glow across the fractured battlefield. It should've been the end. A way out. A victory.
But just as Inigo stepped toward it, hand still gripping the rifle tightly, a familiar, too-familiar voice broke the stillness.
"You really thought I'd die so easily?"
Both Inigo and Lyra froze.
From the dissipating mist and curling smoke, she emerged.
The Lady of Illusion.
Whole.
Alive.
Elegant as ever.
Her long violet robes drifted like smoke behind her, her expression unreadable but calm. Her feet barely touched the cracked obsidian floor, gliding across it like she never belonged to the same world they did.
"Impossible…" Lyra whispered, raising her bow instinctively. "You… we watched you die!"
"I don't die that easily," the Lady said, smirking. "What you killed was a projection, a vessel. My core essence never left the Rift. I simply chose not to return—until now."
