She immediately tuned into the threads of reality, her consciousness slipping between fractured timelines.
Every strand pulsed with volatile energy, threatening to tear her apart. The pressure surged.
Too much, too fast like her entire being was on the verge of combustion just to escape this one doomed ending.
Her soul stretched thin, fraying at the edges, until it was ripped from the moment and hurled into the void between regressions.
The pain was physical. Real.
"Begone," she commanded, her voice trembling across the Weave.
She funneled every ounce of energy into that single thread. Cutting it, erasing it. One clean strike through fate itself.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
She blinked.
She was back.
The corridor stood empty. No shadows. No blade. No man.
No Norvan.
Her knees buckled.
"Mmph—!" She clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
