The chaos of the Citadel continued around them, but for one moment, time seemed to slow.
Supremus and Koronos faced each other amid the wreckage: columns shattered, tapestries burning, the air thick with dust and majik. The metal demigod's green gemstone eyes fixed on the Sword of Otepi. The battle-lust flickered, just for an instant, replaced by something else.
Confusion? Recognition? "That sword." His voice, metal scraping metal, wavered for the first time in ten thousand years. "Where did you get that sword?"
Koronos held the blade before him, its light pulsing warmly. He doesn't feel like giving explanations, however, he's out of breath for the nonstop fighting and welcomes the pause, "it called out to me in the darkness, in the Pit of an ancient fortress converted into a penal colony. The blade was on her chest for eons, interred with her. She waited. For ages, she waited in her crypt, preserved by her own will until someone came, maybe someone she deemed worthy. I suppose that would be me, because it sure could never be you, not as you are now."
Something shifted behind Supremus's metal face. Not the metal itself, something beneath it. Something that shouldn't still exist after ten millennia.
"She... waited?" The words were barely a whisper. "She meant the worlds to me..."
Koronos's voice was flat, factual, merciless. "You're a fool with a spirit more shattered than that rock you live on, she was probably waiting for you! Perhaps she waited not just for a successor, but for someone who could reach you. But instead, you became some madman made of metal and there is no reaching you because you're lost to anger and hate."
Green light flickered wildly in Supremus's eyes. Memories crashed through him: her smile, her laugh, her hand in his. The battle where she fell. His scream that shattered worlds. The long, empty millennia of rage and grief and nothing.
"I didn't know," he whispered. "I didn't…"
Through the carnage and screaming, through her exhaustion, Zeyzey watched from beside the throne, through the smoke and fires. She saw the crack. The moment of humanity. This is the opening, she knew. This is the moment.
The locket was warm in her hand. Lyra watched her with ancient eyes, clutching the armrest, saying nothing.
Zeyzey held the Soul-Stone. She could feel its power: vast, ancient, hers for the taking. She could absorb it. Perhaps with its power she could become immortal, and could rule forever. The thought flickered through her mind: brief, calculating, practical.
Then she looked at Koronos. Bleeding. Fighting. Refusing to fall.
The same man who had kept her when no one else would. Who had trusted her when trust was foolish. Who had shown her what an Everliving was supposed to be.
Oceanus. Neri's sanctum. The vision of worlds burning. The choice she had made then to do what was necessary, even if it meant damnation.
She made that choice again. Not for the gods. Not for the worlds. For him.
She stepped forward, the locket raised. Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade: "Koronos, run him through! NOW!" She brought the locket down onto the hard granite floor.
The green crystal struck the hard, black granite stone floor. For one impossible moment, time held still as if the Omniverse held its breath.
The crystal didn't do anything at first, then the green crystal began to crack, the crack propagated and then it shattered. Green light exploded outward, not in violence, but in release. Ten thousand years of grief, rage and madness, suddenly unbound.
Supremus screamed. It was not a scream of rage. It was not a scream of pain. It was a scream of loss. Of recognition. Of the sudden, terrible awareness of everything he had thrown away.
Koronos drove the Sword forward. Through metal. Through emptiness. Through the place where a heart should be. The green light in Supremus's eyes flickered once, twice, and then went out. His metal body convulsed, then went rigid, then slack.
Far away on Hadron, the armies fell. Green lights dimmed across an entire world. The invasion ended before it had truly begun.
Supremus looked at Koronos, looked through him, to something only he could see. For just a heartbeat, his eyes were not of gemstone. They were a memory of something. Something human.
"Otepi," he breathed.
He crumpled. The metal body that had held him together for ten thousand years collapsed into a heap of dull, dead armor. Nothing inside. No light. No soul. Just... empty.
Guards froze mid-step. The king stared, his mouth open. Lyra clutched her father's leg, eyes wide. Even the distant sounds of the city seemed to hold their breath.
Koronos stood over the fallen shell, the Sword dripping with nothing. His chest heaved. His body screamed. But he was alive.
They were all alive.
Zeyzey stood by the throne, the hollow locket in her hand, the broken crystal at her feet. She looked at Koronos.
He looked at her.
Neither spoke. There was nothing to say. They both knew what had just happened. They both knew what it had cost.
Lyra's whisper cut through the silence, so quiet only those closest could hear: "The song is gone."
Somewhere in the Void, the gods were gathered.
Father Fate, the oldest of the gods. Earth Mother, the architect of the Omniverse. Soul the Sun God, eternal keeper of the flame. Thunderbird the Sky God, the watcher. Sea Witch, goddess of the seas, lakes, and rivers. Otepi, Goddess of Justice and Honor. A host of lesser gods.
They watched in silence as the green light faded from the mortal world.
Thunderbird, in human female form, spoke first. Her voice was quiet, final. "It is done."
No celebration. No relief. Just acknowledgement.
In the throne room in Rylar, Koronos walked to Zeyzey. The others watched, tense.
"You killed an ally," he said. Not an accusation. Just a fact.
She met his gaze, steady. Unwavering. "He was an arrogant ass that had nothing but contempt for you." Her voice was calm, measured. "You would have let the worlds burn before breaking an oath or killing an ally in his sleep. Someone had to be willing to get their hands dirty in the blood of tomorrow, so that you could have a tomorrow to be a hero in." She didn't flinch. Didn't look away. "I serve you, Lord Koronos. I have since the moment I gave my vow. Hate me if you wish. I have no regrets."
The silence stretched. He looked at her. She didn't waver. Then, slowly, he nodded. Once. Not forgiveness. Acknowledgment. He understood.That was enough.
Lyra and her father, the king of Rylar, watched the strangers.
He turned. Walked to Corvannafax. She stood now, but still in chains. Drawing on his Everliving power, he took them in his hands and broke them, metal snapping, links falling away.
She looked up at him, her eyes asking a question he could not answer.
The portal still hummed in the ruined throne room, power feeding from Hadron. Koronos raised the Sword of Otepi, using its last reserves of energy and focusing and concentrating to change the destination.
He turned to Corvannafax. "The gate is still active and I believe I can hold it stable from here, if there's just one person in the portal. With the last of the energy in the sword, I believe I can send you back to Sleeping Dragon to the Shores of Fire temple in Emberhold " He met her eyes. "Your heart desires this, I have sensed it on your surface thoughts."
She stared at him. At the portal, swirling with green light. At Daggeroth, who had nothing left. At Zeyzey, who waited. At Shelove, pressed against Koronos's shoulder.
The portal hummed, a song of possibility and loss. Corvannafax looked from the light to the faces of the only people who had ever called her one of their own. Her eyes went back to the portal.