Morning broke like a hush.
The sky above Northveil no longer looked like the one they had known—its blues tinged with lilac, clouds curled into symbols no language could yet name. The doorway still hovered at the edge of the hill, unchanged but more *present*, as if aware of their choice.
They stood before it together now: Elara, Rin, Sira, Kael, Maris, Thalen.
No titles. No roles.
Just people. Woven from scars, wonder, and the quiet courage of those who keep walking even when the road ends.
---
Elara stepped forward first, the air around the portal dancing with recognition. The Heart—though left behind—seemed to hum faintly in her chest.
"What do you think is on the other side?" Kael asked.
She smiled gently. "The question isn't *what*. It's *when*. Maybe even *why*."
Maris tilted her head. "A place that needs mending?"
"Or a story that hasn't begun," Rin offered.
Thalen didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
He simply raised his hand and laid it on the light.
The doorway responded—not with brilliance, but a *softness* that felt like forgiveness.
---
One by one, they passed through.
Rin first, cloak trailing like a promise.
Then Sira, laughing under her breath, blades sheathed for once.
Kael went next, grumbling about unfinished research while slipping a sketchbook into his pocket.
Maris followed, hands outstretched, gathering petals from a breeze that didn't exist in this world.
Then Elara.
Just before stepping through, she looked back—toward the horizon of the world they had known.
Naelith. The forests. The scorched places. The healed ones.
*Home.*
But stories don't end at home.
They *begin again*.
And so she stepped forward.
---
Only Thalen remained.
He watched the threshold flicker, shifting between lifetimes. For a long moment, he stood still. His fingers clenched around the satchel of ash.
Then he opened it.
Let it spill.
The wind caught the ashes, carried them—not away, but *through* the portal, as though memory itself were being invited forward.
He smiled—just barely.
And then he, too, was gone.
---
On the hilltop, the light pulsed once.
Then faded.
Leaving only footprints in grass that hadn't existed yesterday.
---
Some say a new constellation appeared that night.
A thread of stars shaped like a door.
Others say it was always there—waiting for someone to remember it.
---
**Elsewhere is never far.**
Just one choice away.