The sky above the Maw was quiet now—eerily so. Where once flame and magic scorched the heavens, only drifting ash remained, glinting like snow in fading sunlight. A stillness blanketed the canyon, not the peace of victory, but the hush that follows a storm so violent it changed the land itself.
Lucian sat on a ridge overlooking the hollow. His arms rested on his knees, his chest wrapped in tight linen bandages. His body ached in ways he couldn't articulate—some wounds shallow, others ancient. The fused shard, now dormant, sat nearby encased in a protective rune-seal carved by Tista and reinforced by Selia, who had finally rejoined them after tracking their trail across half a continent.
Laila sat beside him, wordless. They hadn't spoken much since the sealing of Hades. Fusion had connected them on a level so intimate, so overwhelming, that now silence felt like the only language appropriate.
"I still feel it," Lucian murmured.
Laila nodded. "So do I."
It wasn't magic—not entirely. It was like a hum beneath the skin, a vibration in the bones. A reminder that they had touched something beyond power. That they had chosen not just to fight—but to heal.
Below them, the others were tending to the wounded. Cassien stood in the center of the battered field, directing the collection of weapons, relics, and lost souls. Tista moved quickly among them, her hands glowing with gentle light, her voice steady even as her limbs trembled with fatigue.
The crystal that held Hades floated above the scarred heart of the canyon, suspended between five warding stones. Selia and Kira had woven a stasis array so complex it would take a dozen mages to maintain it. But they didn't dare do less. Hades might have been sealed—but his hatred, his conviction, still pulsed like a distant drumbeat in Lucian's chest.
Selia joined them on the ridge without a word. She stared down at the crystal, her mouth set in a tight line.
"I've seen worse," she finally said. "But not much."
Lucian tilted his head. "What happens now?"
"That depends," Selia replied. "On whether people believe the threat is over. Or if they realize it's only paused."
Laila leaned back on her elbows. "We can't just leave this place unguarded."
"You won't," Selia said, her tone grim. "But you also can't stay here forever. The world's bigger than this canyon."
Cassien climbed the slope toward them. His cloak was torn, one arm in a sling, but his eyes were bright—too bright. Victory didn't sit easily on him.
"Reports from the west," he said, settling beside Selia. "Smoke over the horizon. Could be more of Hades' sympathizers. Or something else awakened by the shards' resonance."
Lucian closed his eyes briefly. "We started something."
"You continued something," Cassien corrected. "This battle began long before either of you were born. But you've changed its shape. You gave the world a different ending."
Laila rubbed her arms. "Then it's not over."
"No," Selia said. "It never is."
🜂
That night, the survivors made camp by the stream just outside the Maw. No fires were lit—partially for safety, but also because none of them wanted to see flames again so soon.
Lucian sat with Tista while Laila helped tend to the injured. The younger girl had grown quieter since the battle, her voice deeper, her posture more still.
"You're different," he said gently.
She gave him a sidelong glance. "So are you."
He smiled faintly. "Guess we all are."
Tista looked up at the stars, her voice soft. "I saw something when I cast the final tether spell. Just for a second. It wasn't the past. Or the future. It was… parallel. A version of you and Laila. Older. Wiser. Leading. Not just surviving."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… ambitious."
"It sounds like fate," she replied.
He shook his head. "I don't trust fate. I trust people. Laila. You. Elina. Even Selia, though she'd kill me for saying that."
Tista smirked. "She probably would."
Lucian fell silent again, watching the water trickle by.
"I don't want to be a weapon," he said after a long pause. "That's what Hades wanted—for us to become tools to fix a broken world through fire. But I think the world needs something else."
Tista leaned forward, serious. "Then you'll need to decide what kind of symbol you become. Because whether you like it or not, the world is watching now."
🜂
At dawn, a council formed—informal, but necessary. Cassien, Selia, Laila, Lucian, Tista, Kira, and two emissaries from the neutral realm of Velthar met in a stone-ringed hollow near the broken spire.
The topic: the fate of the shards.
"We can't destroy them," Kira said firmly. "Each one represents a primal force. Destroying them would be like severing the threads of magic itself."
"But together, they're dangerous," one of the Velthari argued. "You saw what they did here. What if someone worse than Hades rises?"
Lucian stood. "Then we don't hoard them. We don't hide them. We protect them. Not as weapons. As balance."
Cassien nodded slowly. "We'll form a new order. Guardians. Not a kingdom. Not a church. Just people sworn to keep the shards apart. And keep the world from tearing itself down."
Selia raised an eyebrow. "And who gets to lead this… order?"
Lucian looked to Laila. She looked back, and something unspoken passed between them.
"Not one," he said finally. "Many. No thrones. No crowns. Just circles. Shared trust."
Selia chuckled. "A radical idea. Might actually work."
🜂
That evening, as the others prepared to depart, Lucian took one last walk through the shattered heart of the Maw. It looked smaller now—not less dangerous, but less unknowable. He touched the seal containing Hades and whispered, "I hope you find peace. Somewhere."
He didn't expect an answer.
He didn't get one.
But as he turned away, he felt lighter.
As if some old weight had finally let go.
Laila waited for him at the cliff's edge, their packs ready.
"You sure?" she asked.
He nodded. "We're not finished. But we've begun."
She offered her hand.
He took it.
Together, they walked toward the world.
Toward what came next.