Both Mael and Nina were a symphony of exhaustion and pain, their bodies carved with cuts and bruises, their blood leaving a trail across the cobblestones. They fought still, but it was survival, not dominance. Their movements were no longer battle but desperate rhythm, each parry and strike pulled from the last reserves of strength.
Mael's Juggernaut's Momentum burned within him, but his fatigue weighed heavier with each passing breath. His steps were slower, his swings less precise. Beside him, Nina's breathing came in ragged gasps, her divine power flickering like a candle nearly spent. Her hands trembled as she lifted her weapon, yet she refused to falter.
The Minotaurs pressed forward, their hulking frames a wall of brute force, the robed men guiding them with silent, predatory intent.
Not far away, Mira was a streak of speed and fury, her strikes sharp as lightning. Yet Zephyr met her with quiet, unshakable composure. His blade was never offense, only defense, every movement a shield against her rage. Not once did he counter. Not once did he aim to wound. He simply deflected, his defense an impenetrable wall.
Mira's hatred blinded her to the truth. She poured her fury into every strike, every step. She did not notice that the Minotaurs ignored her, their minds tethered to Zephyr's silent commands, their focus entirely on Mael and Nina.
Their blades locked in a spray of sparks. Zephyr's voice was calm, almost mournful. "You fight with so much hate. But in doing so, you forget… there are others who depend on you."
The words slid past her. Mira snarled and lashed out with a vicious kick, her boot striking his face and sending him stumbling back a step. Her eyes narrowed with venom. "The only one who will need protecting is you, Zephyr." She raised her blade, every intention to end him where he stood.
But she froze.
A scream ripped through the battlefield. It was Mael's voice, a raw, agonizing cry that tore through the din of steel and roars.
Time slowed. Her gaze shifted in horror. A Minotaur had seized Mael's hand, its monstrous grip crushing bone with a grotesque, wet snap. The sound clawed into her ears, something she knew she would never forget.
Mael! The name thundered in her mind, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Her trajectory shifted in a single heartbeat. The killing strike she had prepared for Zephyr curved instead toward the Minotaur. Her sword cleaved through the beast with merciless precision, its body collapsing lifelessly.
The battlefield changed in an instant. The Minotaurs and robed men, once fixed on Mael and Nina, turned toward her now, their heads snapping like predators scenting blood.
Mael stumbled, his mangled hand spilling crimson, yet he refused to stop. Even in agony, he swung his weapon with his remaining strength, every motion painted with stubborn defiance.
Nina, her body shaking, stood in front of him, trying to shield him. But her knees buckled. Two Minotaurs bore down on her, one lifting a massive fist, ready to crush her into the earth.
Nina! Mira's thoughts screamed. She no longer cared for Zephyr, no longer cared for her vendetta. Instinct ruled her.
In a flash, she was at Nina's side. Her blade severed the Minotaur's arm before it could fall. She spun, her sword a furious blur, carving through the second beast before it had a chance to strike. Blood sprayed across the stones, hot and heavy.
With a desperate lunge, she seized both Mael and Nina, pulling them back, dragging them from the closing jaws of their enemies.
"Nina, heal his hand!" Mira shouted, her voice sharp with command.
Nina's eyes fluttered, her chest heaving. She nodded weakly, forcing herself to kneel at Mael's side. Divine light flickered between her trembling fingers as she pressed them to his ruined hand.
Mael's teeth clenched, his body taut with pain, but he let her work. He had no choice.
Zephyr stood at a distance, blade still in hand, watching. His knuckles tightened on the hilt. His heart told him to move, to step forward, to act. Yet his feet were rooted to the ground.
Mira fought with a desperate ferocity, her body moving faster than thought, her blade flashing in arcs of steel. Every strike was survival, every breath ragged, as she cut down the tide that threatened to swallow them whole. She could hear Mael's sharp intake of breath, the sound of bone knitting under Nina's trembling hands as his wounds slowly closed. They tried to rise, tried to join her.
But Mira caught their movement, her eyes burning with urgency. "Stay back! Do not come any closer!" Her voice cut through the chaos, fierce and commanding. She knew the truth they refused to accept: if they stepped forward now, it would be nothing short of suicide.
Before she could steady herself, a shadow loomed. A Minotaur's massive fist crashed against her chest, the impact sending her body hurtling through the air. The breath was torn from her lungs as she hit the ground, her body screaming with pain. She barely had time to recover before two robed figures descended upon her, their blades plunging down again and again. Steel bit into flesh, fire shot through her nerves, and blood soaked her.
But Mira did not fall. With a snarl, she seized one attacker by the throat, her grip like iron despite the wounds carving into her body. Bone cracked beneath her fingers as she crushed his windpipe. Without hesitation, she twisted, her blade flashing, slicing cleanly through the other man. Both fell, lifeless, as her own knees trembled under the strain.
"Captain!" Nina's scream split the battlefield, raw and agonizing, tearing at her throat. Mael too roared Mira's name, his fear laid bare for all to hear. They ran forward, desperation in every step.
But fire answered them. A wall of searing flame erupted from the earth, roaring upward, a living barrier that scorched the air and blocked their path.
They lifted their eyes in shock. Zephyr was walking forward, calm amidst the chaos, the inferno parting subtly in his wake. Around Mira, the Minotaurs and robed men closed in, circling like wolves sensing a bleeding prey.
Mira's vision blurred. The world was breaking into fragments of color, fire, and noise. Her body swayed as blood poured from her wounds, but her hand clenched her sword tighter. Her spirit refused to bend. I will…not fall here.
The enemies leapt at her, eager to end it—only to be consumed in sudden fire. Flames swallowed them, their screams tearing into the night, a chorus of despair that was silenced just as quickly.
Mira blinked in confusion, barely comprehending. Through the haze of smoke and blood, she saw only one clear figure: Zephyr, moving toward her with measured steps.
"Captain!" Nina cried again, her voice cracking as she threw herself against the flames. Her sword slashed wildly, striking the fire as if her desperation could cut through it. Sparks flew, but the wall held.
Mael's own blade became a blur, hacking at the flames in vain. His teeth were clenched, his face twisted with helpless rage.
Mira steadied herself. Her sword was raised, her eyes defiant though her body was failing. Her breath came shallow, but her will was unshaken. If this is where I end, then I will end it on my feet.
Nina's desperation broke her. She leapt forward, ready to throw herself through the inferno.
"Are you stupid?" Mael roared, his hand shooting out to seize her arm. He yanked her back, holding her fast. His eyes burned with anger, but beneath it was terror. "Do you want to kill yourself?"
"The Captain!" Nina screamed, thrashing wildly in his grasp. Her voice cracked under the weight of her grief. "She is weak, she is going to die!"
Mael's reply tore from him, raw and unguarded. "But I do not want you to die too, Nina!" His words broke with fear, his voice trembling even as he clung to her.
His selfishness stabbed at her heart. She glared at him, disgust and anguish mixing in her tears. "Let go of me! Let go of me!" She struggled with everything she had, but his arms were unrelenting, his heart refusing to release her. He could not. He would not. The thought of losing them both was unbearable.
Within the fire's circle, Mira stood bleeding, her sword still in hand though her strength faltered. Her blurred gaze locked onto Zephyr as he drew closer.
"Is this how you want to end me?" she rasped, her voice shaking but full of venom. "Here, like this? A grand stage for your greedy desire? And not face me as the fighter you pretend to be?"
Zephyr's eyes did not waver. He said nothing. He simply walked on, the fire curling around his steps.
Mira's knees buckled at last, her body betraying her. She fell, but before stone could claim her, Zephyr caught her. His arms steadied her as gently as they had been merciless in battle.
"Get away from me!" she screamed, her defiance burning even as her blade slipped from her grasp. It clattered to the ground, useless.
Zephyr lowered her carefully, kneeling to set her down as though she were fragile glass. She struck him with her fist, weak and trembling, a punch born of hate and helplessness. He did not flinch.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, raw with pain, "What do you want? Is this how you treat your victims to the very end? Showing them that you are stronger?"
"I am sorry… my love."
The words left Zephyr's lips like a wound reopening, soft yet cutting through the roar of fire and chaos. His voice trembled, heavy with something Mira could not name.
Her bloodied hand tightened into a fist. Her body shook, her chest burning with pain and fury. "I am not your love, you monster!" she screamed, her voice breaking against the weight of her own grief. The cry was jagged, torn from her very soul.
Nina froze in Mael's arms, her thrashing ceasing for just a moment. Her eyes widened in horror, confusion and dread mixing in her young face. She could hardly breathe as she watched the scene unfold, the impossible intimacy of it striking her like a cruel blade. Why would he call her that?
Zephyr did not flinch at Mira's words. He only looked down at her, his eyes shadowed with a sorrow that seemed ancient, bottomless. The pain in them was not the triumph of a victor, nor the cold detachment of a killer. It was something else. Something Mira could not bear to see.
"You may call me whatever you wish," he said, his voice breaking as if each syllable was dragged from his chest. "A monster. A traitor. A murderer. All of them true." His throat worked, his jaw tightening as if the words cut him as deeply as her blade had once tried to. "But still… I am sorry. Sorry for what I have done to you. Sorry for everything that I could never undo."
Mira's lips trembled, but no sound came out. Her body fought to push him away, but her strength betrayed her. Her eyes, clouded with pain, met his. And for the first time, she saw something in Zephyr's gaze that terrified her more than his power: regret.
Her chest constricted. She wanted to spit in his face, to curse him until her last breath. But her heart quaked under the weight of the sorrow in his voice.
Zephyr's hand rose slowly, trembling as it hovered above her blood-matted hair. She recoiled, whispering through clenched teeth, "Do not touch me." But her words carried no strength, only exhaustion.
His hand came down anyway, gentle as falling ash. His fingertips brushed against her head, not in possession, but in something agonizingly tender.
And then it struck her.
Memories. Not her own. They poured into her like a flood breaking through shattered walls. Faces she did not know. Places she had never seen. Emotions that did not belong to her heart. Zephyr's past, his pain, his sins, his longing—rushed into her mind all at once, threatening to drown her.
Mira gasped, her body jerking as if struck by lightning. Her vision blurred, her mind screaming as it was filled with him.
Zephyr's POV
The low hum of the crowded inn filled my ears. Wooden mugs clinked, boots scraped against the stone floor, and laughter spilled from adventurers who had already drowned themselves in ale. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine clung to the air, but none of it truly reached me. My fingers curled around the mug in front of me, the amber liquid warm but untouched.
Across the table, Subaru leaned back in his chair, his grin as wide as the horizon. He raised his mug high and slammed it down with a thud that rattled the table, turning more than a few heads in our direction.
"Now that," he boomed, his voice loud enough to rival the bard in the corner, "is a good drink!"
I adjusted my glasses and let out a faint sigh. "You don't have to be so loud about it," I muttered, though there was no true irritation in my voice. He had always been like this, burning bright wherever he went.
Subaru chuckled, his shoulders shaking. "Why wouldn't I? It's called celebrating. Your wife is due, isn't she? Soon enough, we'll be welcoming a new blood into the family."
A warmth spread across my chest despite myself. I tried to mask it, but I knew my lips curved into a rare smile. "Blood?" I shook my head slowly. "I would not call it that."
He feigned offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest as if my words had cut him. Before I could respond, a barmaid approached with a kind smile. Her tray balanced two mugs, foam spilling faintly over their rims.
"Another round for you gentlemen?" she asked, her tone light and practiced.
I shook my head, pushing my mug forward slightly. "No, thank you."
Her eyes shifted to Subaru, who stretched with a long sigh. "As much as I want to, I think I've had enough," he said, flashing his toothy grin. "If I go home like this, my lady will have me lectured for an hour straight."
The barmaid laughed, shaking her head as she walked away.
I tilted my head, studying him. "I am surprised you are listening to Amaryllis."
He smirked knowingly. "And what am I supposed to do? She has a sharper tongue than my blade. Better to save my ears while I still can."
For a moment, I allowed myself to laugh quietly. But the laughter faded as quickly as it had come. My thoughts turned heavy again, and I leaned forward, my tone serious. "Are you sure you do not want me to stay? Mira wou…"
He cut me off with a raised hand, his grin softening into something steadier, warmer. "Even if she will understand, it will do you both good to be together. Spend that time with her, and with the child when he or she arrive. That is worth more than anything else right now." His voice carried no jest, only sincerity that pressed against the guarded walls of my heart.
I looked down at the mug in my hands. He's right… but what if something happens? What if I am not ready?
The thought made my chest tighten.
I sighed, forcing a small smile back onto my face. "Very well. But if any issues arise, you know how to reach me."
"Of course I do," he said with a firm nod. Rising from his chair, he straightened his cloak. "Well then, I'll be going. Don't forget what I said."
I lifted my mug faintly in reply. "I will not. Send my regards to everyone for me."
His grin widened again, but there was a glint of unspoken understanding in his eyes. He gave me a final nod before heading toward the door, the night air spilling cool through the frame as he vanished outside.
The inn's noise swelled again once he was gone, but for me, everything fell quiet. I stared down into the mug, the beer within already flat and unmoving. My reflection wavered in its surface.
After today, I am going to be a father.
The thought struck me harder than any blade. A tremor of fear ran down my spine, and before it could fester, I slapped my cheek sharply, the sting grounding me. Fear was useless. What I needed was resolve.
I stood, drawing a few curious glances as I walked to the counter. Reaching into my pouch, I set down a heavy handful of gold coins on the polished wood.
The bartender blinked, his eyes going wide. "Zephyr… what is this?"
I met his gaze, my voice steady though my heart thundered. "All drinks on me. Tonight… and the next three nights as well."
For a breath, there was silence. Then the bartender raised his hand high. "Everyone! Drinks are on Zephyr!"
The inn erupted into cheers, mugs slamming together, voices chanting my name. The adventurers and barmaids raised their drinks in a joyous wave.
I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head as if their noise couldn't touch me. But the bartender leaned close, his voice low, carrying a sincerity that pierced through it all.
"Congratulations in advance on entering fatherhood."
My chest tightened. I nodded once, replying quietly, "Thank you. I may not be coming here often again."
The bartender laughed. "My establishment will miss you dearly."
I managed a small, hollow smile and stepped back into the night. The village lay quiet, lanterns guttering along the lane where weary adventurers returned to cramped inns. The cool air hit my face and for a heartbeat I let myself breathe — that tiny moment of ordinary calm before everything changed.
As I rounded the corner toward my home, a scream ripped through the night. It cut the air like a blade.
Mira.
My feet turned to sprint before my thoughts finished forming. I slammed the door open, the wood rebounding with a crashing echo. Lantern light spilled into the room like molten gold, illuminating a scene I had already prepared myself for a thousand times in fear but had never truly believed.
Mira lay on the bed, sweat-matted hair plastered to her forehead, her face a mask of pain. Two midwives moved around her like hands of a clock — one pressing a cool towel to her temple, the other waiting at the foot of the bed with steady, anxious hands.
I dropped to my knees beside the bed, my heart pounding so loud it felt like it might burst my ribs. "My love," I whispered, and the word landed like a prayer.
She screamed again, the sound tearing out of her as her body convulsed. The midwives did not look at me; their world was focused, clinical, and fierce. "Continue, Mira," one urged, her voice a rope pulling the woman back through pain and toward birth.
"I can't!" Mira cried, tears carving tracks through the grime on her face. "I can't do it! Please, Zephyr, hold my hand! Talk to me!"
I took her hand without hesitation. My fingers closed around hers, knuckles white with terror and hope. I called a small surge of fire mana into my palm — not for destruction, but for warmth, a coaxing heat meant to dull the jagged edges of agony.
"Mira, don't give up," I whispered, and the words felt both holy and hollow in my throat. "You are so strong. You are the strongest woman I know."
She screamed again, a sound that made the rafters shiver. The midwife at the foot of the bed leaned forward and shouted, "Push! He's coming! You can do it!"
Her eyes met mine, wild and pleading. "My love, it's hard… it's so hard!" Her voice broke on the last word, as if the syllable itself might splinter.
There was a part of me that wanted to lie, to tell her the pain would pass, to trick fate with a softer truth. Instead I said what I meant and what I believed, even if my belief trembled: "There is nothing too hard for you. Isn't that what we promised each other?"
When she looked at me then — truly looked — I saw, briefly, the years we had stitched together in small ordinary acts: the bread we had shared, the nights we had kept each other warm, the way she hummed when she mended my cloak. Her breath hitched, and something in her shifted. She pushed, the sound of it a new kind of animal cry, and the midwife cried out, "He's close!"
I felt hope like a thin blade between my ribs. Then the light began.
At first I thought it was the midwife's lantern catching on sweat, but the glow swelled, searing and unnatural. Mira's belly throbbed with light, a living pulse that made the very air in the room sing with pressure. It was not the gentle, tender radiance of life — it felt sharp and raw, as if something vast strained to break free. The second midwife's face turned white as old bone.
Instinct moved before thought. I raised my hands, and a ring of fire-band mana snapped into being around the bed, a halo of heat meant to hold and to protect. I poured everything into it — a shield of warmth that tasted of iron and resolve.
Then the world detonated.
The sound was not a sound but an unraveling. It ripped the air in two. Pain lanced through my skull like a hammer. The barrier I had raised buckled as if something had reached through and punched it. For an instant the bed and the room doubled, then folded inward on themselves. Smoke and ash filled my vision; the midwives' faces became blurred edges.
I remember crawling, or perhaps falling, through the ruin of what had been our home. The village itself had been unmade. Where our lane had run there yawned a crater, a raw tooth in the earth. The lanterns were gone; the sky hung wrong over a blackened wound.
"Miraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" My voice was a ragged blade, and I kept calling her name as I stumbled through the wreckage. The shout echoed until it broke on the rim of that smoking hole and returned to me hollowed.
And then I saw her — a shape, small and naked against the ash, impossibly fragile in all that ruin. I fell to my knees before her as if the ground had offered itself up. Her skin was greyed with soot; blood darkened the curve of her cheek. I pressed her to my chest and felt the uselessness of my hands.
"Mira, please wake up… please," I sobbed into her hair, and the sound surprised me — how raw and young it could still be. I searched blindly for the child first, the thing that should have been proof that our pain had not been all for nothing. There was nothing. No warm sign in her belly, no tiny cry under the ash. Only silence and that blasted hole where so much had been.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed at the sky until my throat burned.
In a voice that was hardly my own, one word rose above the screaming: Umbra. My mind clawed for the impossible. "Umbra!" I shouted. My hand found Mira's face and I pressed it to mine as if my heat could conjure the world whole again. "Umbra!" I screamed again, voice cracking.
Silence answered. The wind moved through the crater and took my pleas with it.
Desperation is a straightforward teacher. I forced a blade of flame into my hand — a single, hot point of sacrifice. "Please, Umbra… I, Zephyr, sacrifice my life for my love!" I said it aloud, each syllable a promise and a threat.
I raised the burning dagger toward my chest. The heat bit and I welcomed it, thinking the end might be mercy.
A voice cut through the cliff of my thinking, cool and precise. "That would not be necessary."
The flame winked out as if a hand had closed over it.
I blinked through tears. Umbra stood at the crater's edge, as calm and impossible as a winter star. His smile was thin and hollow. Pale light glittered in his eyes like cold glass.
"That won't be necessary," he repeated, the words falling like coins on stone.
"Why?" I screamed, the rawness of the question shredding me. "Why me? Please….help! Umbra! Tell your master! I need him! Please!"
Umbra watched me with an amused tilt of his head. "And what, in such a dire and final situation, do you imagine would be helpful?" His voice had the dry curiosity of someone reading a list rather than a man begging over a broken life.
I clung to Mira as if she were all the world and nothing else. "Please, Umbra… I will do anything. Anything for her. I will serve you until my dying breath." The words left me ragged, each one harder than the last.
A soft, humorless chuckle came from Umbra like dry leaves. "I see. Just for one person you beg. For one love." He appraised me as one might a curious specimen.
I could only nod, my body shaking with grief.
He considered me, then gave a quiet, almost thoughtful hum. "Hmm. I think I can work with something." His voice was clinical, not cruel — more a trader making an offer than a god. "But first, you should know about it. Take my hands and look into my eyes."
I hesitated only a heartbeat. The crater around us still steamed like a wound. Mira's still body lay heavy in my arms. I could taste ash in my mouth. I knew there was risk. I knew Umbra's gifts never came without a cost. Still, the sight of her — so pale, so small against the ruin — erased everything else. I reached out and took Umbra's hands.
The moment our skin met, it was like being plunged into a cold ocean and dragged toward a jagged reef. His eyes were not eyes anymore but windows to a wide, impossible collapse. Images slammed into me: Kingdom swallowed by darkness, fires that crawled over oceans, the final, keening cry of thousands. I saw faces I did not know, dragons in war, mouths open in endless terror. I saw the end — not distant, not hinted — but a roaring, inevitable conclusion to all things. The future was a film of ash and screams.
I ripped my hands back as if his touch had burned me. A raw, animal sound tore from my throat — a scream that was not only grief but pure, ancient terror.
"You see it now," Umbra said. His laugh was slow, the sound sliding out of him like a blade pulled from a sheath. "What you are doing is not necessary."
My breath came ragged. The images still seared my eyelids when I blinked. I looked down at Mira, at the smear of ash on her temple — and the future's cruelty knifed me again. I clenched my teeth and tried to shove the visions away. There was only one choice left that felt honest.
"Please, Umbra… save her," I said, my voice raw with a kind of begging I had never known myself capable of. "I will carry her burdens. I will end it myself. I will be your slave. Just help her."
Umbra's laugh rippled like dry paper. "Humans," he said. The word was a small, lonely contempt. "So selfish in love. After seeing all that will come, you still offer to shoulder the blame?"
"I will!" I shouted, the sound splitting my chest. "For now, for always…for eternity! Please, Umbra! Help me!"
His smile widened until it was a thing that did not belong to a kindly god but to an awaiting guillotine. "You, Zephyr, are one of the few who would do this for love," he said, voice almost admiring. Then he spoke the cost in the same clinical tone one might use to name a price. "But be warned. If I return her to you, she will forget you. Her memory will be rewritten. She will remember you as the one who razed this town, as the destroyer who brought death here, if you behave according to that memory."
The cold detail landed in me like another blow. What he said made no sense for happiness, only for survival. Love became ransom. Erasure for life.
"I do not care," I answered, the words tearing out of me. My voice was cracked, but I meant it with every atom I had. "Just let her live."
"Fine," Umbra said after a beat, as if deciding between options on a ledger. He reached his hand out. "You are now entering into a contract with me. Be warned. This path will do you more harm than good. More humans will die."
I looked at Mira again. The thing I had seen in my mind's eye flickered behind my eyelids like a flame I could not stamp out. "I know," I said, and the admission tasted of blood.
"If that is your wish," Umbra continued, "then I will add it to the contract. I will help you both when the time is needed."
I did not understand his caveats. I did not care. All that mattered was that she breathed. All that mattered was that she remained.
"Anything to keep her alive," I said. I took Umbra's hand.
The world shifted. Then Mira gasped — a single, ragged intake of air that felt like sunlight after an eclipse. My heart detonated in my chest. I held her, shaking, as tears burned hot and messy down my face.
"Thank you," I sobbed into the ash and the smoke. "Thank you."
Umbra's gone but his voice cut across the ruin again, cool and direct. "You should leave her body now."
I laid Mira back on the ground gently, as if setting the most fragile thing in the world. My hands shook so badly I could barely fasten the shirt over her. When at last I straightened, I took off my glasses and placed my shirt over her bare form, a poor and human shield against the emptiness.
She stirred, and then her eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" she whispered, her voice small and bewildered, scanning the ruined field and the cratered village. Panic sharpened quickly. "Mom… Dad… Mommm!"
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt a quiet collapse inside me as the realization settled: she had forgotten me. The knowledge sank like stone, heavy and irreversible.
She looked up at me with the vacant confusion of someone who had lost everything and could not yet name it. "Stranger, what happened here? Where is everyone? What happened?" Her words were laced with the raw shock of a child who has lost home and kin.
I forced myself to answer, though the words tasted like iron. My voice came out cold and hard, because steel was easier than the truth I could not bear to give. "Leave," I said. "You are lucky you survived my attack on this town."
Mira screamed — a sound filled with betrayal, a howl of the abandoned. "Why did you do that?" she shrieked, voice shredding with grief as she tried to rise and fell weakly back into the ash. "Whyyyyyyyyyy!" She hissed as I turned away, the sound a burn across my skin.
As long as you are alive, I would die by your hands, I thought, the vow settling into me like armor I could never remove.
I kept walking. Her cries chased me, a chorus I would carry forever.
~~~~~~~~
The present was an inferno. Flames licked at the edges of the ruined street, but where Zephyr and Mira stood the fire felt less like destruction and more like a strange, fierce cradle. Zephyr held Mira close; the heat that radiated from his body wrapped around her like a vow. She was a woman of fire already, yet the warmth at his chest was a sanctuary she clung to with trembling hands.
Tears tracked clean lines down her ash-streaked face. "I am sorry… my love… all for me," she sobbed, voice broken by grief and bewildered gratitude.
Zephyr tightened his arms as if he could squeeze the world back into place. "You do not have to be sorry," he said, each word a small hammer against despair. "It was my choice to carry your burden. I will do it now and forever, until eternity and in every other timeline."
Mira's shoulders shook. Her tears came harder, each one a small surrender to the rawness inside her. "Zephyr, I do not want to leave you again. I am scared. I do not want to make you hate yourself."
"Hush," he murmured, breath hot against her ear. "You do not have to worry." The heat in his chest flared as if in answer, and his body burned brighter for a moment, a solitary, silent explosion of light.
Beyond that living blaze, through the heat-hazed air, Nina's voice rose in a raw, frantic keening. "Captain! Captain!" she screamed. She thrashed in Mael's arms as if she could tear herself free and leap into the fire. Mael's face was a mask of pain; he held her tight, bone-deep worry locking his grip.
Mira felt the warmth of the flames press to her skin like a memory. She turned her head slightly, voice small but threaded with hope. "My love," she whispered, "will I be strong for you? Will we see each other again?"
Zephyr's answer came from a place in him that had known too many endings. His voice was thick and low. "I do not know," he admitted. "Let us simply hope we see each other again."
Mira pressed closer, tears falling heavier. "If we do see each other again," she said, forcing bravery into the shape of a vow, "I promise… I will give birth for you."
A soft, resigned laugh escaped Zephyr. They held each other as the flames surged, as if the heat could braid their bodies together and hold them safe. Nina's voice grew more distant, a splinter of sound swallowed by the blaze. Mira turned her face toward it and spoke into the fire, words half prayer, half apology. "Nina," she breathed, "I am sorry. Your captain will not be here again to watch over you…. Mael, please take good care of her."
Then the world contracted to a single hot point. The two figures at the heart of the furnace were briefly visible, silhouettes of love against a burning sky. In the next heartbeat, they were gone. What remained was not flesh, not bone, but a glowing skeleton of ash, two figures locked together in their final embrace as if even death could not separate them. The fire that had stood like a wall before Mael and Nina faltered, its furious blaze dwindling until it was no more than smoldering embers, while the unseen domain faded away.
Mael loosened his grip at last. The fight left Nina all at once. With a desperate cry she tore herself free and stumbled forward, the heat of the scorched ground biting at her knees as she fell before the remains. She did not care. The sight before her eclipsed pain, eclipsed everything.
Her hands hovered helplessly above the fragile ash, trembling, afraid to touch, afraid it might scatter if she dared. Her voice broke into a whisper so fragile it could have been carried away by the smoke. "Captain… captain, please come back." The plea cracked, shattering into sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks and fell into the dust at her knees.
Mael stood frozen behind her. His chest felt crushed by a weight too great for any soldier to bear. His fists clenched until the skin split at his knuckles, yet it did nothing to hold back the ache that threatened to rip him apart. To see his leader gone, to see Nina drowning in despair, was almost more than he could endure.
At last, with steps that felt heavier than iron, he moved forward. He knelt beside her, the silence between them filled only by the low hiss of dying flames.
Nina turned toward him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide and wild with grief. Her lips trembled as she forced the truth into words. "She is gone, Mael… she is truly gone."
For a moment he could not speak. His throat locked tight. Then, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her. The dam inside him broke, and his own tears finally fell. Together they wept, their cries mingling with the smoke and ash, two broken souls clinging to each other amid the wreckage of everything they had fought to protect.
In that hollow place, with the ashes of their captain still glowing faintly beside them, the world felt unbearably fragile. Their grief hung heavy in the silence, and the question neither dared to voice lingered in the air like a curse: What happens now?