Jude reached out, his fingertips brushing the golden shimmer of the portal. It didn't resist. It pulsed gently, like it recognized his touch - not as an intruder, but as a familiar echo. He glanced at Lucy beside him, her golden-flecked eyes steady, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She nodded once, fingers tightening around his. He turned, taking in the circle of his wives. Twelve faces he had come to know as deeply as his own soul. Each radiant in their own right. Each waiting.
Behind them, the dreamers watched, silent and breathless, as if sensing the weight of the moment.
"What do we become if we step through?" Emma asked, voice low but clear.
"Not something else," Rose answered, walking to the front of the group, her fingers grazing the arch. "Something more."
Sophie tilted her head. "And if we don't?"
Lucy smiled. "Then we stay here and grow roots, until Elaria blooms again through someone else."