A swipe of her tail shattered what remained of the pit wall. The coliseum groaned beneath the blow, bricks tumbling like a storm of jagged knives.
Perseus raised his shield just in time, divine light flaring around him in a desperate dome. The impact forced him back a step, boots grinding into blood-soaked stone.
"She's not listening!" Eurydice shouted, wings flaring, streaks of light trailing behind her like comet tails.
"No," she whispered to herself. "She's still in there."
Nyxia didn't roar in pain—she howled in fury. Her voice fractured the air. Her claws raked through Perseus's barrier, sparks of Void and Light colliding like dueling stars. The ground trembled beneath her. Her body shimmered with energy barely held in check, voidlight threading through her veins like molten ink.
Above, a pulse of dark light cracked across the sky—the void tear where the arena had been tethered now split the heavens again, flaring in strobe bursts of unnatural illumination.
"YOU LIED TO ME!" Nyxia's voice wasn't hers. It came from somewhere deeper—something older.
"YOU USED ME!"
"We didn't," Perseus shouted, stepping toward her. "Nyxia—gods, please—fight it! I saw you leap onto her for me. That wasn't the void talking. That was you!"
A tremor.
She froze. Just for a heartbeat.
Enough.
Eurydice stepped closer, her voice low and layered with sacred resonance—Light and Shadow braided together in every word.
"You told me the void wouldn't win. That you'd never let it. Don't you remember?"
A snarl cracked through Nyxia's throat.
"SHUT UP!"
The void surged outward—pure force, ripping the floor like a tidal wave. Stone exploded. The arena split down the center. Statues crumbled as magic screamed through the air.
Perseus was flung back.
But he stood again.
Bleeding, panting—but unchained.
He stepped over shattered stone and raised a trembling hand to her chest—pressing it against the crackling, glowing mass of dark energy radiating from her sternum.
"I love you," he said, quietly.
"And if this is where you break, then break with me. But I'm not leaving."
The words landed like thunder.
Something snapped—deep, beneath the rage, beneath the pain. A ripple passed through the void like a skipped heartbeat. The black flame at Nyxia's fingertips flickered. Her breath stuttered.
Eurydice pressed in. "Don't let him take you. Please, Nyxia."
The void snarled—one final surge. And then…
It drained.
The howling ceased.
The flames guttered.
And from the debris and light and silence, Loque's voice echoed like thunder behind a closed door:
"Come back to us, cub."
Her body collapsed, energy evaporating like smoke from broken glass. Nyxia fell to her knees in the rubble—naked, trembling, breath ragged. Her hands were caked in blood not her own. Her eyes flickered, hollow. Distant.
Perseus caught her before she hit the stone.
And Eurydice lit the sky with soft Light, washing away the last of the shadow.
The coliseum stood no more. Just a scar now—jagged and raw where too many had bled.
They walked through the ruins in silence.
Nyxia leaned on Perseus, her steps small, knees barely holding. Her body was wrapped in a torn cloak, skin streaked with blood and ash. Loque padded at her side, his spectral form limping but constant.
At the wagon, Boo stood guard—one arm in a sling, saber at her hip, jaw bruised. Draj leaned against the side, split lip pulled into a crooked grin.
Miri waited in the wagon bed. Still quiet. Still haunted.
Perseus helped Nyxia up, while Eurydice moved with practiced grace, lighting soft healing beneath her fingertips. Nyxia collapsed beside Miri with a groan, her body folding like wet cloth.
Then—
A sound.
Like silk tearing underwater.
The sky above the shattered arena parted.
A controlled void rift opened—narrow, deliberate, ancient. Shadows poured like ink across the light. But it didn't scream. It didn't rage. It simply watched.
And then—it gave.
First, the warhammers.
Forged in vengeance. Blackened steel rimmed with Tyr's markings, blue runes pulsing like a heartbeat. They slammed into the earth beside Miri, the ground hissing with displaced force.
Miri flinched.
Then reached.
Her hand closed around the grip of one—and her entire frame shook. Not in fear.
In homecoming.
Then—Nyxia's reward.
It did not fall.
It descended. A single object, suspended on strands of void-threaded silk: a ring.
Blackened metal. Set with a deep amethyst that pulsed with soft, rhythmic thrum.
When it hovered before her, she didn't understand at first. But when she reached for it—her fingers trembling—the void inside her responded.
The mark on her chest flared, and deep in her soul… the Scythe stirred.
A memory. A truth. The weapon wasn't gifted.
It was unlocked.
And Arioch's whisper unfurled like oil-smoke through her mind.
"A well-earned prize, little storm. You danced beautifully. You kept them watching. You kept me watching."
Nyxia sank to her knees, not in surrender, but in gravity.
She slipped the ring onto her finger. It sealed like a bond.
Loque snarled—not in rejection, but fear. A protective circle formed around her as the void ripple vanished, the rift closing behind it with a hiss.
Only silence remained.
Until Boo let out a stunned breath. "That was… metal as hell."
Perseus rested a hand on Nyxia's shoulder. "You earned it," he said.
Nyxia didn't reply.
But for the first time since the void touched her—
She smiled.
The wagon creaked as it moved through the forest. Mist clung to the earth. Rain pattered like whispers.
Perseus shielded Nyxia's body with his cloak and presence. She leaned against him, breath slow. Boo sat across, still grinning faintly, while Draj rubbed his temple.
"This was supposed to be pit fights," Draj muttered. "Not wars of gods."
"You quitting?" Boo asked.
"I think I already did."
He stood at the next stop. Arms folded. Face bruised but calm.
"Stay alive," he said. Then walked into the trees without looking back.
Nyxia watched him go. No tears.
Just gratitude.
Eurydice led them forward again. No one questioned where. She didn't explain. But when the wagon slowed and the fog parted—
They saw it.
A glade.
Quiet. Golden. Timeless.
A spring shimmered in its heart, glowing with ancient magic. The trees formed an arch, their branches woven into a cathedral of green.
Eurydice stepped down first, her robes soaked. "This place saved me," she said softly. "I thought… maybe it could do the same for you."
Perseus helped Nyxia down.
She nearly fell.
He didn't let her.
Boo hopped down next. "Alright," she said, exhaling. "I'm calling it. This is the afterlife. Someone hand me a mojito."
Miri hadn't moved.
Until she did.
She walked toward the spring like someone in a dream.
The blanket slid off her shoulders.
She jumped.
Laughter cracked the silence as she surfaced, gasping. Her eyes alight.
"I haven't seen anything like this since I was a child."
Loque padded into the spring beside her, limping. The glow danced through his form.
Then Nyxia joined them.
Barefoot, bruised, armor discarded.
She knelt at the edge of the water. Her reflection shimmered—black-ringed eyes, hair still tangled from battle.
Loque pressed his head to hers.
"You screamed too loud to hear," he said.
"I almost lost you."
"You didn't. But next time…" He growled softly. "Don't make me tear the world apart to reach you."
She smiled.
Soft.
Small.
But real.
And the shadows around them bowed—not in fear.
But in recognition.