The battlefield burned.
Ash choked the sky where stars once lived, and the sound of clashing power shook the world. The five remaining Thrones—beasts of fire, storm, and light—towered over the cliffs of Halvareth, weapons in hand, divine eyes blazing with wrath.
At their feet stood Airam and Liam.
Side by side.
Her gown was in tatters, her arm cut and bleeding, but her grip on the staff remained unshaken. Liam stood just behind her, breath shallow, his own body trembling from strain—but his eyes never left hers.
"We can't hold them forever," Liam said. "Even with the Flame and the Breath."
Airam nodded, her voice calm in the chaos. "We don't need to. We just need to reach the Heart."
Liam glanced up—the sky torn above the throne circle, revealing a pulsing golden core: the Heart of the Order, the source of their power. Hidden for eons. Vulnerable only now.
"You're going to break it," he realized aloud.
"No," Airam said, stepping forward. "We're going to break it."
Together, they ran.
The Thrones thundered their protest.
One raised a colossal blade of crystal flame. Another unleashed a storm that raged toward the cliff's edge, turning stone into dust.
Airam spun the staff—calling the Breath.
A dome of white flame erupted around them, absorbing the impact as Liam hurled his twin staff like a spear toward the nearest throne's eye. The weapon struck true—the beast screamed and faltered, giving them a sliver of an opening.
They sprinted up the last slope, toward the altar at the Heart's base.
But then—he stepped forward.
The Seventh Throne.
The only one who had not fought.
A man, cloaked in smoke, eyes the color of dying stars. His hands were bare. His voice soft.
"I told them you'd burn it all," he said. "But they didn't listen."
Airam slowed, staff raised. "Why didn't you stop them?"
"Because," he said, "I wanted to see if you could do what I never could."
He opened his hand.
And revealed the lock of silver hair.
Airam froze. Her knees nearly buckled.
"…Mother."
"I pulled her soul from the flame when she tried to destroy us. I kept a piece. I thought I could use it to stop you." His gaze softened, almost kind. "But I see now that you are more dangerous than her."
Airam's breath trembled. "You made me this."
"No," the man said. "You chose to be this."
The Breath coiled around her, fire flickering from her fingertips. "Then I choose to end you."
He didn't fight.
He smiled.
And then stepped aside.
Airam blinked, stunned. "Why?"
"Because I want to see how you do it," he said. "I want to see what breaks first—them... or you."
Liam caught her arm. "Come on."
They reached the altar.
The Heart of the Order hovered like a suspended sun above the circle, runes spinning around it, pulsing with the power of every vessel ever sacrificed. Magic stolen and locked away. A graveyard of power.
Airam raised her staff.
The Breath surged in her chest, wild and overwhelming. Her veins lit up. Her body trembled. The staff became an extension of her soul—radiant, burning, infinite.
> "You were never meant to contain us."
The voice echoed from within her.
> "You were meant to be our voice."
With one final breath, she thrust the staff into the Heart.
---
The sky screamed.
---
Light exploded.
Not just from the altar—but from every corner of the world.
In every realm, every dream, every temple, the stolen flames—every voice the Order had silenced—rose again.
The Thrones shattered. One by one. Beasts turned to dust.
The Seventh, still watching, began to laugh—not in joy, but in horror.
"You fool," he whispered. "You didn't end the cycle… you reversed it."
The fire didn't stop.
It spread.
It raced into the sky, down into the earth, through rivers and roots and bones and time.
The world remembered.
---
Later…
The battlefield was silent.
Liam knelt beside Airam's crumpled body. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale. But her eyes fluttered open as he touched her hand.
"You did it," he whispered.
"No," she rasped. "We did."
He helped her sit. Around them, the sky was clearing. The Thrones were gone. The Heart destroyed. The Breath free.
And the people—those who had been asleep, unaware of the divine war—were beginning to awaken to something new.
Liam helped her to her feet.
"What happens now?" he asked.
Airam looked to the horizon.
"I don't rule anymore," she said. "I rebuild. With them."
"And me?" Liam asked quietly.
She turned to him, smiling softly.
"You're not my guard anymore, Liam."
He blinked. "I'm not?"
"You're more than that."
She took his hand.
"You're home."
---