It began with silence.
The kind of silence that warns of storms. That makes the world hold its breath.
Lucian stood in the Hall of Ancients, where murals of forgotten warriors stared down at him like disappointed gods. The council had summoned him, their message as cold and curt as their stares.
Lira walked beside him.
But not with him.
Not anymore.
---
The chamber was filled with tension thicker than steel.
Valen's voice rang sharp. "You violated commands. Used forbidden magic. Possessed soldiers."
Lucian didn't deny it.
Thorne added, "You've been warned. This is no longer about correction. It's about containment."
Then the dagger struck.
From Lira.
"I can't follow you anymore," she said. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled. "You've become what we were taught to fear."
Lucian didn't look at her. He didn't need to.
The world was already collapsing.
---
The council passed judgment:
Exile.
Lucian laughed.
"You think I'll bow?"
"No," Valen said. "We think you'll fall."
Guards surged forward—twenty of them. All armed. All enchanted. All meant to restrain a god.
Lucian fought.
He moved like a storm.
But they had prepared.
One spell—cast by Lira—struck him like betrayal made flesh.
The Crimson Veil burned.
His body trembled. His magic rebelled.
And still, he almost escaped.
Until the last voice came.
Riven.
"I'm sorry," he said, and drove the blade into Lucian's side.
---
They dragged him to the Sancturm's edge.
The Abyss awaited—an endless fall into exile, madness, and the lost.
Lucian, broken and bleeding, looked at Lira.
"I trusted you," he whispered.
Tears ran down her face.
"I still love you."
Valen snapped, "Throw him."
But before they did—Lira turned.
And attacked the Council.
She struck Thorne across the chest with a blade drawn from her cloak.
Guards rushed. Spells fired. Chaos erupted.
Lucian watched in disbelief as Lira fought for him. One last time.
Then a flash of light.
A blast.
And she fell.
Dead.
His world stopped.
The guards grabbed him.
And with a single command from Valen—
> "End the Light."
—they cast him over the edge.
---
The last thing he saw before the black swallowed him was her hand, limp in the light.
The last thing he felt was fire.
The last thing he heard…
> "Burn it all."