The firestorm faded, leaving silence.
Ash drifted down like snow. The battlefield was unrecognizable — scorched craters, rivers of molten stone, broken husks of the First Flame's vessels scattered like blackened statues.
And in the center of it all, Sid.
He stood swaying on his feet, chains of black and gold still smoldering faintly around him. His right arm fractured, bound in fire and radiance pulsed like a living brand.
Lucien caught him before he collapsed completely. "Sid! Stay with me!"
Sid's lips moved, but only a rasp came out. His eyes rolled back, and he went limp in Lucien's arms.
Reinhardt stumbled over, his armor half-melted, his chest heaving. "Gods above… what is he now? That wasn't human. That wasn't…" His voice broke, unable to finish.
Nox perched on a shattered column, feathers smoldering, his gaze sharp. "He is the battlefield. And he has already lost more than he knows."
Far above them, the air shimmered. A ripple tore through reality, like a curtain being drawn back.
Velgrin stepped out.
His cloak was untouched by ash, his movements unhurried. Behind him loomed the Ashen Architect, its faceless visage gleaming with embers.
Reinhardt cursed under his breath and raised his axe. "You..."
"Silence," Velgrin said softly, and the knight's weapon grew unbearably heavy, forcing him to his knees.
Lucien drew his blade, eyes blazing. "If you touch him..."
Velgrin only smiled. "Touch him? No. He is already touched ... by gods, by demons, by what sleeps beneath both. I need not interfere."
He walked past them, every step leaving ash frozen in perfect shape, as though even ruin bowed to his presence. He stopped before Sid's unconscious form, kneeling to study the boy's fractured arm.
"Beautiful," Velgrin whispered, almost tender. "The chains of godlight and demonflame entwined. You are already halfway there."
Lucien's hand shook as he tried to lift his sword. "Get away from him!"
Velgrin ignored him. His eyes gleamed, reflecting Sid's burning veins. "One vessel. Two fires. And soon… no Sid at all. Only the Eighth Flame."
The Ashen Architect extended its spindly arms, pulling from the scorched ground something pulsing with sickly light ,the second Nightroot Fragment. The shard of obsidian writhed, veins of fire crawling across its surface like a living heart.
Reinhardt's voice cracked. "No…"
Velgrin accepted it reverently, cradling it as though it were sacred. "With two fragments, the Spire sings clearer."
The Architect's hollow voice echoed: "The Mirror Spire is ready. The world's skin is thin. Soon, Hal'Zirath will bleed freely."
Lucien surged forward in desperation, but Velgrin only raised a hand. Golden threads of flame wrapped around Lucien's limbs, freezing him mid-stride.
"You've fought bravely," Velgrin said, his tone smooth as silk. "But this war was never yours to win. Mortals, gods, demons — all of you are scaffolding for something greater."
He leaned close to Sid, whose unconscious body trembled with the faint glow of his fractured arm. "Rest now, little flame. You have served well. Soon, you'll serve perfectly."
Velgrin turned away, the Fragment pulsing in his grip. The Architect followed, its silhouette stretching unnaturally as they stepped back into the shimmering fold of reality.
Before the tear sealed, Velgrin's voice lingered, carried on the ash-laden wind:
"Halfway to Ascension."
Lucien fell to his knees, his sword clattering beside him. Reinhardt sat heavily in the dirt, fists clenched in helpless fury.
Nox fluttered down beside Sid, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He is both prisoner and key now. And the cage is inside his own soul."
Sid lay unconscious, his fractured arm glowing with both golden godlight and black demonflame ... the proof of what he had become.
The battlefield was silent, save for the hiss of dying embers.
And in that silence, the war moved one step closer to its end.