The morning greeted us with an eerie calm.
No more crimson skies, no more screams echoing from the cracks in the veil of dimensions.
Only the whisper of wind and sunlight gently dancing across the ruins of the altar.
I sat beside Lysandra, who was tracing patterns in the dirt with the tip of her finger. A faint purple glow still surrounded her, but her eyes were clear—childlike, even.
"How are you feeling?" I asked softly.
She nodded slowly. "Lighter. But I can still hear voices… voices that aren't mine."
Aldric approached, carrying a water pouch and a piece of stale bread.
"We need to head down to the village. If the curse truly has ended, they deserve to know the world is no longer crumbling."
I nodded, though deep inside, something still tugged at me.
Something unfinished.
Heavy footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor.
We all turned in unison.
A tall figure, cloaked in gray, emerged from the lingering smoke of the altar.
Aldric drew his sword.
"Don't," I whispered. "He's not an enemy."
The figure lowered his head. His face was hidden beneath the hood, but his voice… it was soft and ancient.
"You are right, Seraphine. I am no enemy. But I bring… an offer."
"An offer?" Aldric echoed, suspicious.
He raised his hands—unarmed.
"You know my name, though you have never spoken it. I am the Third Keeper of Souls. The one who guards the boundary between life and sacrifice."
"Why appear now?" I asked.
"Because your decision is still incomplete. Astor may have been defeated, but his blood still flows within you. And within that child."
He looked at Lysandra.
"The curse never truly vanishes. It only slumbers… waiting to rise again."
Aldric's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"Lysandra is the key," said the Keeper.
"As long as Astor's blood lingers in this world, the circle of the curse remains open. You have delayed destruction. But not ended it."
I clutched Lysandra's hand tightly. "So what are you saying? Kill her? No. We won't repeat Elara's mistakes."
"No," the Keeper said gently. "I come to offer another choice."
The air turned cold. The Keeper pulled out a small scroll from beneath his cloak and unfurled it before us. Symbols of blood and names unspoken were inked across the parchment.
"A New Pact," he said.
"If you are willing to trade one soul for one fate, Astor's bloodline will be erased from history. It will never rise again."
"Whose soul must be traded?" Aldric asked sharply.
The Keeper looked at us, one by one.
"Elara."
My body froze.
"The part of Elara still within you must be separated. Removed. And offered as a sacrifice to reseal the blood circle. But the process… will not be gentle. It will not be easy. And you—Seraphine—will lose everything Elara ever gave you."
"What do you mean?" I asked, voice hoarse.
"Her memories. Her power. Even your love for Aldric… may not be entirely your own. All of it could vanish."
Lysandra clung to me, as if understanding something words could not convey.
Aldric stared at me. "This is a trap."
The Keeper shook his head. "It is a choice. If you truly want this world freed from the chains of blood, then a sacrifice must be made."
"No!" I shouted. "We've already lost too much. I won't lose myself again."
But deep inside… I knew.
There was truth in his words.
As long as Elara lived within me, the past would never stop haunting us.
Astor may be dead, but his legacy… still rooted within.
And Lysandra, though innocent, carried blood that could birth the curse anew in generations to come.
"We need time," Aldric said firmly. "This isn't a decision to make in a single morning."
The Keeper nodded. "You have one night. After that, the balance will shift. And you will not get a second chance."
He turned and vanished into the mist, swallowed by the earth itself.
That night, I sat before a small fire.
The wind carried the scent of scorched soil and wet grass.
Aldric sat beside me.
"You're afraid," he said.
I nodded. "If I give up Elara… I don't know who I'll be afterward."
He looked at me with unwavering eyes.
"Even if you lose a part of yourself… I'll still be here. I'll still love you."
Tears streamed down my cheeks. "But what if my love for you… was only because of Elara?"
He was silent for a moment, then said quietly,
"If that's true… then let's begin again. I'll fall in love with you all over.
No magic. No bloodline legacy."
I let out a choked laugh through my tears. "You always know what to say."
Lysandra approached, carrying wildflowers in her hand.
"Are you talking about dreams?"
I shook my head. "About choices."
"Then I want to choose too," she said.
I smiled. "It's not your burden to carry, Lys."
"But it's about me too, isn't it?"
She looked at me with eyes far too old for her age.
"If part of my blood could kill the world… I want to protect it too."
I pulled her into a tight embrace.
"You won't lose anything, sweetheart. Not again."
Night deepened. I stared into the fire, then closed my eyes.
And in the darkness, Elara appeared.
We stood before a mirror that separated our souls.
"You want to let me go?" Elara asked. She wore a white dress this time. Her face was calm. Peaceful.
"I have no choice," I replied. "This curse… it won't end otherwise."
"And you think letting me go will fix it?"
"I don't know. But if it can save Aldric, Lysandra, this world… then yes."
Elara bowed her head.
"I once chose a throne over love. You choose love above all. Perhaps that's what sets us apart."
I stepped closer.
"Thank you… for letting me discover who I truly am. But now, I want to walk forward on my own feet."
She nodded slowly.
"Then you must sever the bond yourself."
Suddenly, a sword appeared between us—glowing gold and violet.
I lifted it. My hands trembled.
"With this, you cut away everything—feelings, memories, power, history," Elara said.
I bit my lip. Tears streamed down.
"I'm ready," I whispered.
And I swung the blade.
Light exploded—blinding everything.
I awoke to screams in the air.
Aldric was shaking me. "Seraphine!"
I opened my eyes. "I… I'm still here…?"
He nodded, relief flooding his face. But before I could speak, the ground began to tremble.
The night sky split apart, and from the rift came a laugh I knew too well.
"Too late."
From a vortex of purple and blood-red light, a figure emerged—not Astor.
But someone far older. Far darker.
"A pleasure to meet you," he said. "I am the origin of all curses.
And Elara… was merely the beginning."
...
I stood, my body still shaking, and asked, "Who are you…?"
The figure smiled.
"My name… is Valion."
And the world began to burn once more.
---