The evening suns of the Atlas were beginning their slow, synchronized descent, casting long, amber shadows across the porch.
Bella sat in her rocking chair, her breathing shallow but steady. She looked more like a spirit than a woman now, her skin so pale it seemed to be woven from starlight. She had waited two centuries for this day, holding onto the thread of her life with a stubbornness that had baffled the high gods.
"He's very close, isn't he?" Bella whispered, her voice a mere thread of sound that barely reached Eos's ears.
Eos knelt beside the chair, taking her grandmother's hand. The skin felt like dry parchment, yet the pulse beneath was vibrant. "The road is open, Nana. The Life-Ink has stabilized the bridge. The nothingness is no longer a barrier; it's a path."
