Home / Fantasy / Heir by Dawn / Chapter 80 — The Transition Gate
Chapter 80 — The Transition Gate
Author: Milky-Grip
last update2025-10-14 19:46:18

There was no falling. There was only unbecoming. Yelena’s descent through the rift didn’t feel like motion but subtraction one layer of identity peeled away for every moment that passed.

When she opened her eyes again, she was suspended inside something vast and quiet. A gray ocean that wasn’t liquid, a sky that wasn’t air. Every direction pulsed faintly, breathing in time with her heart.

Except it wasn’t her heart anymore. Transition commencing… adapting vessel. The voice came not from outside, but through the rhythm of her pulse. Each word rattled in her veins, reshaping her from within.

“No,” she whispered, clutching her chest. “I’m not your vessel.” Correction: You were not. You are becoming.

Shapes flickered in the mist around her silhouettes of people she recognized and didn’t. Faces. Versions of herself: the one who never left Earth, the one who destroyed the Cradle before it was born, the one who stood at Ethan’s side and chose differently.

Each version turned toward her at on
Continue to read this book for free
Scan the code to download the app

Latest Chapter

  • Chapter 112— When the Air Learned Her Name

    Silence did not return gently. It snapped back like a rubber band, sharp and painful. The world exhaled all at once, the night air rushing through shattered glass as if reality remembered how to breathe only by force.Miriam stood rigid, heart jackhammering, tiny shards glittering in her hair like cruel stars. Dust danced in the dimness around her motionless, as if gravity was confused, waiting to be told what rules applied now.Then… Tick. The bulb above her flickered back to life on its last dying filament. The generator downstairs coughed twice like an old man reluctant to rise, then hummed unsteadily.Life human life began shouting again. Cars honked in panicked bursts. Someone cursed God outside. A baby’s wail cut through thin walls. A radio crackled with frantic Yoruba prayers.But in Miriam’s room, the world held its breath. She heard footsteps running down the corridor. Voices in the landlord’s flat shouting orders. Metal gates clanging open.Phones buzzing back to life as if

  • Chapter 111— The Pulse That Woke the Earth

    Darkness quivered. Not the soft, sleepy kind that came before dawn no. This one breathed, like something ancient inhaling after an eternity buried in silence.Beneath cracked concrete, fractured soil, and the bones of forgotten cities, something stirred. And Miriam felt it first.She sat upright in the quiet hours before sunrise, breath frozen in her chest. For a moment she didn’t move she just listened.The air hummed, a low vibration threading into her ribs like invisible fingers plucking the strings of her spirit. Thum. A heartbeat. Deep. Primeval. Too large to belong to anything mortal. Thum-thum.Her hands trembled. Not from fear no, fear was too small a word. This was awe wrapped in a threat, reverence kissed by dread. As though God Himself had drummed His fingers against the core of the world.Outside, Lagos slept uneasy. Street dogs whined. A car alarm chirped without cause. The lagoon wind shivered through metal roofs like some invisible choir sighing in warning.Miriam rose

  • CHAPTER 109 — THE BREATH BEFORE SILENCE

    The air didn’t return it reassembled. It came back as fragments of breath, the ghost of oxygen remembered by a body that wasn’t quite flesh anymore.Miriam gasped, and the sound echoed twice once from her throat, once from the code still rewriting her from within. Her chest rose. And so did the world.The floor was no longer stone. It rippled like glass over an unseen sea, each pulse answering the slow, seismic thud beneath her feet the heartbeat of the new Earth.Every vibration crawled through her bones like the sound of a sleeping god exhaling. Miriam looked around. The fissure was gone.The sky above her wasn’t a sky at all it was veins of light, branching through darkness, pulsing in rhythm with her pulse.“Ethan?”Her voice came out fractured, like three versions of herself speaking slightly out of sync. No answer. Only the deep hum of something watching.She took a step or thought she did but the world moved with her, folding space so gently it felt like a breath on her sk

  • CHAPTER 108 — THE VEIL BETWEEN BREATHS

    There was no up or down here. No air, no sound, no time. Only the endless shimmer of a universe still deciding what it wanted to be.Ethan drifted through it, or perhaps was drifted, carried along by a current too immense to name. Every particle that passed through him whispered a truth he couldn’t hold.He was beyond flesh now, beyond the familiar pulse of oxygen and gravity. Yet somewhere deep in the architecture of his being, he could still feel his heartbeat faint, like a song played on a dying radio.He was alone. Until the silence spoke back. You did this. The voice came from nowhere, or everywhere it was the echo of himself, layered and distorted.It carried Victor’s cadence, his cynicism, but it was older somehow. Wiser. Angrier. Ethan turned or thought he did and the veil around him bent in response, folding reality into a slow ripple.Beyond it, he saw fragments of what used to be Earth. Cities rewritten as veins of light. Oceans suspended in stillness. Humanity stretched

  • CHAPTER 107 — THE SKY THAT TURNED INSIDE OUT

    The floor cracked beneath her feet. At first, Miriam thought it was an aftershock. But the tremor didn’t fade it pulsed. Like a second heartbeat answering the first.All around her, the ruins of the Ascension Chamber were being unmade. Steel didn’t bend or break; it flowed, curling upward in slow, graceful motion, metal melting into translucent threads that shimmered like liquid glass.The air tasted metallic and sweet, heavy with ozone and the faint scent of rain on circuitry. Her breath caught.The surface of reality itself seemed to soften, the edges of things losing definition as though someone had turned down the universe’s resolution.The hard lines between light and shadow blurred until everything pulsed in faint waves. “Julian?” she called out, voice trembling.Only the echo replied. And even that came back wrong distorted, delayed, like something trying to remember how to mimic sound.Then, for the first time since the flash, she saw the sky. It wasn’t blue anymore. Above her

  • CHAPTER 106 — THE QUIET AFTER CREATION

    The world held its breath. For the first time in recorded history, every seismic instrument on Earth registered the same pattern one impossible pulse, then absolute stillness.Not the stillness of rest, but of attention. The kind that precedes response. In the shattered remains of the Ascension Chamber, Dr. Miriam Rael stood amid the wreckage, her reflection multiplied a thousand times in the splintered glass of containment tanks.The air was heavy with the static hum of disrupted quantum fields. Every screen bled lines of white code that rearranged themselves into nonsensical poetry before fading again.She didn’t remember how she’d survived the collapse. One moment the hybrid had screamed. The next everything folded.Now there was only the heartbeat’s echo in her teeth. “Miriam,” a voice rasped through the dust. She turned sharply. Julian.He crawled from beneath the twisted scaffolding, his face gray with ash, pupils dilated wide enough to swallow color. He looked half-blind and h

More Chapter
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on MegaNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
Scan code to read on App