The third bell echoed like a judgment.
Alaira let go of my wrist as if burned. "You lied."
"I didn't mean—" I stopped. No excuses would help. I had lied. But why?
The air shimmered faintly between us, a subtle pulse like heat off stone.
"I didn't want to scare you," I said. "The book said I'd betray you. I thought if I didn't tell you, I could stop it from happening."
Her expression twisted. "And you think that wasn't a betrayal?"
Behind us, a mirror cracked.
Not glass—reality.
A jagged seam appeared down the hallway wall, and for half a second, we saw another version of me beyond it—smiling coldly, blood on her hands.
I stumbled back. "That's not me."
Alaira's voice softened. "But it could be. If you keep hiding things."
The crack sealed itself slowly, like skin knitting shut.
Alaira stepped closer. "Was it you who chose to lie? Or was that decision already written into the book before you even read it?"
I stared at my reflection in a polished pillar.
I didn't know.
And that was the real fear.
"Whatever's rewriting the story," I said quietly, "it's trying to separate us."
Alaira took a long breath. "Then let's not let it."
She reached into her cloak and pulled out something I hadn't seen before—a silver ring shaped like a serpent swallowing its own tail.
"The timeline's breaking. But if we stay bound by our own choice, maybe we can write our own ending."
I took the ring.
Maybe I had betrayed her.
But this moment—I chose it.