Silence stood between the two. Like the sands of an hourglass, the snow drifted down, layering itself over the snow-packed ground.
Behind Evan, the Echo stood rooted in frozen soil, its thick bark unmoving, statuesque. In its shadow, Cain and Serenity were cradled, hidden just beyond sight.
Evan clenched his jaw, hoping—praying—they would remain unseen by the cloaked figure.
The robed figure released a sound caught between a dying cry and a mewling cackle, its shoulder jerking with strained exasperation. Beneath the hood's shadow, two reptilian eyes holding tainted glee.
Evan clenched his teeth. The creature was taunting him—he could feel it. Then its laughter peeled off, leaving silence like suffocation.
The stillness was fractured. With a single step, the creature sank into the snow, swallowed without resistance—vanishing before Evan's eyes.
Moonlight and fear filled the space it had left behind. Evan's eyes widened as the world around him—the echoing clash of the Howler and the Stag—faded dull.
He had no idea what he was facing. It melded with the snow like a Kaldrmane, yet the presence it exuded suddenly was far greater, unlike anything he had ever felt.
His grip on his hammer tightened until his knuckles burned against the cold. Should he move?
The answer to his question came as a warning: a tremor beneath his boot.
He leapt back as the snow split open, birthing the hooded figure. One arm had fused into an icy blade that speared upward. His heart lurched, if he had hesitated, he would have been skewered.
He dug his heels, before driving a counterattack. The hammer swept through the air, aimed at his airborne foe. Mid-leap, it should have been helpless. It should not have escaped this blow.
And yet it did.
In one fluid motion, the creature tucked its legs to its chest and landed with feline precision atop the hammer's head.
For the briefest moment, it perched there—then it kicked off, sending itself skyward to the skies.
Evan's eyes tracked it as it rose, its silhouette cutting across the moon. Snow fanned from its tattered cloak in a wide arc as it twisted midair, realigning.
Then—like a bird of prey—it dove.
He wrenched his hammer back just in time, meeting the strike head-on.
Metal met ice.
The impact cracked the night. Evan's hammer burst in a thunderous shockwave that drove his boots deep into the ground and shattered the creature's blade of ice.
The force rattled up his arm into his shoulder. But, even then the worst of it was not his to bear.
His hammer carried through. The shockwave tore the figure's sleeve to ribbons and crushed its arm to the elbow, forcing a horrid shriek.
The creature staggered back, landing lightly after the clash. Its arm hung by threads of sinew, yet its cry morphed into a cackle. Its body swayed, with its flimsy limb flailing in the winter.
This wasn't normal.
Pain sprung up Evan's arm, driving him to a knee. His dominant hand convulsed in a death grip on his hammer, fingers contorting around the poleaxe as if they no longer belonged to him.
His teeth ground together, breath hissing as he fought through the agony. The pain was sharp—and increasing.
A pattern was beginning to form. The hammer was... different. Or maybe he was. When he first started using it, he could wield it with ease. It had never held this kind of strength, nor demanded a toll. But in the past few days, it was clear that its power had grown, and the strain had become unbearable. Now he couldn't even swing it twice without injury, even with his fortitude Aspect always active.
He cursed, eyes flicking back to the creature. He had won the clash—but that victory came at a cost.
Forcing himself upright, he rolled his aching shoulder. One more swing, and he was certain his arm might be left as useless as the creature's arm he had ruined.
Reckless. Foolish. But there was no other path.
Evan drew a steady breath and withdrew the hammer into his Soul Sea. With the hammer dissolved, all that remained were his fists.
***
Meanwhile...
Zerin found himself pulled into the realm within—his Soul Sea. The crimson moon withheld its light, leaving him at its edge, staring inward. The air pulsed with hunger—not the gnawing of an empty stomach, but something vastly more insidious: the craving to kill.
His feet created ripples atop the sea of blood beneath him. And once he reached the center of his Soul Sea beneath the blood-red moon, his thoughts finally converged to question.
Why was he here? Why couldn't he leave?
Something stirred. From the shadows, a familiar presence rose.
Horns curved into a single uneven crescent moon atop her head.
The fallen being was bare, gravely scarred, her skin the color of old blood. Eyes burned like molten iron, fixing searing disdain into him.
Zerin froze, disbelief rooting him in place.
A Demon had invaded his Soul.
Not just any Demon, but the Beast God herself. She was a specter, her form stepping into the harsh light of the blood-red moon.
It was impossible.
Zerin's blade manifested unconsciously in his hand, its black edge trembling. His throat constricted, but he forced the words out.
"I want nothing to do with you."
The God drifted forward, her lower half disintegrating before his eyes, as if the moon's light was eroding her.
"Heart...less." The whisper sliced. She opened her fist, and obsidian claws burst apart like flint striking steel.
The spark's light illuminated his face, forcing him back a step. He blinked—this was more real than he had ever imagined.
"What do you want?" His voice shook, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
The God's lips curved into a cruel smile—ear to ear. She advanced, and Zerin felt his chest sink, every beat of his pulse captured by her presence.
"Your heart."
He raised his blade in a desperate guard.
Of course...
Why had he even asked? He was already damned—bastardized, condemned by the Gods for a crime he neither intended nor understood.
All he had ever wanted was for them to live.
"The price," she whispered, "for craving life."
Her words drifted like her fading form—like smoke across his Soul Sea. With each syllable, her form unraveled further, scattering into ash until only her chest and head remained clear.
She hovered there—a phantom of a fallen god.
"I craved life?" Zerin's voice faltered, then anger took hold. "If anyone is clinging to life, it's you. You should be dead!"
He would not surrender his life willingly—not ever. He would not pay the price for a nightmare he had not asked for.
The Beast God's voice fell like judgement.
"...And for sin, you shall drink deep of suffering."
"Come try it," Zerin challenged, activating his Aspect ability. The pull was vastly more potent, his lips twisting into a defiant grin.
"Can you win this time? Or will I sever your head instead this time?"
The Beast God surged forward, her form a howling mist that unraveled in plumes of black soot above the blood sea beneath them.
Zerin's muscles coiled—but his body couldn't respond.
The spectral juggernaut came to a breaking halt just as it was going to slam into him. Her form disintegrated almost completely, leaving only two burning eyes floating before him.
"Tied by vessel and Fate you are alive still... Killing you is not within my grasp," the God growled, low and menacing. "For what is dead cannot claim dominion over the living."
Her eyes burned a final time, searing beyond his flesh, branding into his mind.
"Selfish one torn from me, we will rejoice in your ruin."
Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, her remnants came undone, scattering into the darkness within his Soul Sea. The oppressive weight lifted.
Zerin longed for control of his own body, and with a shudder, his body became his own once more.