She stood at the center, arms crossed loosely, coffee still in hand though it had long since gone cold.
The pain that lingered here didn't overwhelm her. It didn't claw. It didn't scream.
It ached.
It pulsed in the stones like a slow heartbeat. Familiar. Hollow.
And it was not just hers.
She could feel them. The others. Like whispers pressed into the walls. Some had sobbed here. Some had knelt. Some had begged.
She had bled.
But she had also survived.
And now…She was glad he was gone.
Not out of vengeance. Out of justice.
This room didn't deserve to exist. And yet… it remained. A wound in the fabric of a realm that no longer lived.
But where are you?
The thought wasn't meant for him. It was barely a thought at all. Just a loose thread tugged by exhaustion.
And that's when it hit her.
A scream.
Not hers. Not now.
His.
Aerion.
The voice that had haunted her dreams for months. The voice that had screamed inside her head while runes burned down her leg.
It ripped through her.
No words, just rage. Endless. Agonizing. Divine.
She dropped the coffee. The mug shattered on the floor.
The scream didn't stop.
It thundered through the room, through her skull, through her bones.
She clutched her temples, stumbling back.
And then—
Tearing.
Not from her. Not in her mind.
From the realm itself.
The wall in front of her buckled. Warped. Cracked down the center like glass under pressure.
And then it ripped open.
A violent tear in the stone, in the magic, in reality itself.
And he stepped through.
Aerion.
The magic recoils from him as if even this broken realm doesn't want him anymore.
Still massive. Still burning with divine fury. Armor cracked. Eyes glowing like molten metal.
He didn't look broken.
He looked wild.
A force unchained.
And behind him, quiet as a shadow—
Navir.
Head bowed. Face unreadable. Like the storm wasn't around him but inside him.
Asha didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't flinch.
She simply watched.
And that, of course, offended him.
He scoffed.
Not like a man seeing a threat. Like a man insulted to see the maid sitting on a throne.
"So this is where you hide now?" he said. "In the ruins you caused?"
His voice wasn't sad. It wasn't even grieving.
It was boiling. Self-pity dressed up as justice. Righteousness soaked in ego.
"Orion is dead. My realm is ash. And you—" his lip curled, "you stand there like you've done nothing but bleed."
He took a step forward, jaw clenched so tight something cracked.
"You think Malvor saved you? That smug, meddling parasite? He didn't save you, girl. He used you. Like the rest of us did. That's all you've ever been good for."
Asha did not react. Face a mask.
And silence, her silence, made him spiral.
"You think this power makes you divine?" His voice cracked with rage. "You're nothing but the vessel we carved. A container. An empty shell filled with power you were never meant to touch."
Another step.
"You think seducing a god makes you powerful?" he hissed. "That laying down for chaos erases what you are? What we made you?"
Still, she remained unchanged.
And that made him unspool.
"You seduced him. Don't deny it. You knew what you were doing. You let him have you. You let him ruin everything. And now the whole Pantheon burns."
He laughed, low, bitter, ugly.
"I would've given you everything. Structure. Purpose. A place in something greater. And you spat on it. Traded legacy for a clown with illusions and glitter."
His hands shook. His voice dropped, dangerous and calm.
"I should have burned you out the second I brought you here. Should have shattered you past your bones and scattered you into the void."
Navir didn't speak. His mouth moved in silent speech.
But Asha turned, just slightly. Just enough to catch the shift in him.
And for a split second, she saw it.
Not pity. Not shame.
Guilt.
The kind that sits low in the chest. Heavy. Calculated. Not weeping. Weighing.
His eyes didn't meet hers. They didn't need to.
Because he wasn't frozen.
He was thinking. He was running numbers. Rerouting blame. Reconstructing timelines. Calculating consequences, hers, his, Aerion's.
Trying to make it make sense. Trying to undo it with logic.
But he couldn't.
Not this time. Not here.
Aerion didn't see it. Didn't care.
He was pacing now, like a judge delivering a sentence he'd written long before she ever had a chance to speak.
"You were a vessel. A tool. Chosen for one reason: service. And I was merciful. I gave you my time. I gave you the honor of my attention."
His eyes scanned the wreckage like it was evidence.
"And what did you do?" he spat. "You stole from me."
He gestured around them, furious at the proof.
"You turned on me. Lied. Trapped me in a pocket realm like a criminal, all because I enforced the deal we agreed to."
"Now look. My son is dead. My realm is dust. And you're here pretending you're the one who needs time to process."
A short laugh. Brutal.
"There's no godhood in you. Just entitlement. You took what you weren't given. That's not power. That's theft."
He stepped closer again, voice like a blade:
"You were never divine. You were useful. And now you're not."
He let the words dangle.
Then shrugged.
"You want to be free? Fine. But don't pretend this," he waved to the broken world around them, "isn't your fault. You set the fire. And now you want praise for walking away from the smoke."
He stared at her.
Not expecting a fight. Not fearing one.
He just wanted her to admit he was right.
Because in his mind?
He wasn't the monster.
She was.