The forest had never felt so loud.
Not with noise, but with memory.
Cain walked ahead, his boots crunching twigs and dried leaves, but all he could hear was Eira's voice. Not the one from the end—he couldn't bear that—but the younger one. The version of her who used to run through the halls with wild hair and a laugh that cracked through silence like lightning through a storm.
"You're too serious, Cain," her voice echoed in his head. "Smile, or I'll tickle you into the afterlife."
He used to scoff at that. Now, it felt like a prayer he never answered.
Behind him, Leo was going over maps and sigil notes on a cracked tablet, his brow furrowed. His hands shook a little, something Cain had never seen before. Leo didn't show emotion easily—but today, grief clung to him like a ghost.
Eren, meanwhile, kept falling behind. He didn't say much. He kicked rocks, stared up at the branches, and muttered things under his breath like he was trying to make jokes—trying to stay the silly one—but his voice cracked every few words. At one point, he whispered, "You really had to go be the hero, huh, Eira?"
Selene was quiet. Not distant, just present in a way that grounded them. Her hand brushed Cain's when they paused at a clearing to rest, and he didn't pull away this time.
The air shifted then—cold, sudden.
Leo stopped walking. "We're close."
Cain's eyes flashed. "You feel it too?"
Selene nodded. "Something ancient… and broken."
In the center of the clearing stood the ruins of an old temple, cracked by time and fire. Moss crawled up the stone columns like they were trying to pull them back into the earth. And there—hovering—was the remnant of what killed Eira.
It didn't have a face. Just shadows wrapped in tattered cloth, its form shifting like smoke that had learned to hate.
Eren's hand went to his blade. "We're not doing speeches, right? Because I'm about to slice first and grieve later."
Cain stepped forward, his voice steady. "We don't fight this thing for revenge. We fight it because Eira believed we were worth saving."
The demon screeched, its form expanding. The trees bent backward like they were kneeling.
Cain's body began to glow—just faintly. Leo noticed first.
"Your mark," he whispered. "It's glowing again."
Cain touched his collarbone where the birthmark had always been—a devil's fang, everyone said. But now, it felt warm. Alive.
"I think it's Eira," Cain whispered. "I think she gave us something."
Selene looked at all of them. "Then use it."
And they did.
Cain stepped into the demon's radius and raised his hand—fire burst from his fingertips, but it didn't burn. It wrapped around him like armor. Leo's eyes flicked golden, and his hands created sigils mid-air faster than ever before—each one locking the creature in place like invisible chains. Eren leapt from behind, sword pulsing with red lightning, slicing across the creature's shoulder with a cry.
The demon howled—but it didn't fall.
It lunged, catching Eren off guard. A spike of shadow pierced his side and threw him across the ruins.
"EREN!" Leo shouted, breaking formation.
Selene rushed to him, magic already blooming in her palms. Cain didn't hesitate. He rushed the demon, fist glowing, slamming it into its core—right where he felt the pulse of Eira's sacrifice.
"I don't know what you are," Cain growled, voice thick, "but you messed with the wrong damn bloodline."
And with one final punch, the mark on his chest burst into red flame. A shockwave rippled out, turning the shadows into ash. The demon let out a soundless scream—and vanished into the wind.
Silence.
All that was left was Cain, panting, hands still glowing faintly.
Selene's healing had kept Eren stable. Leo was already at his side, pressing gauze to the wound with shaking hands.
"We did it," Eren said weakly, grinning like an idiot. "Tell Eira I was cool."
Cain let out a breath—half-laugh, half-sob.
"No need," he said. "She already knows."
The boys sat around the ruins as the sky started to lighten. Morning was coming.
Selene leaned her head on Cain's shoulder.
Leo finally relaxed.
Eren muttered, "You know, I'm starting to think being the son of a devil comes with some serious emotional trauma."
Cain chuckled. "No kidding."
They stayed like that—broken but alive.
And from the wind, there was a whisper, soft and warm.
"I'm proud of you."
Eira's final gift wasn't just power.
It was purpose.