The world was silent.
Ash floated through the ruins like slow-falling snow. The sky above was a wound of dull red, its edges bleeding light. The plains that had once been alive with battle were now nothing but blackened glass.
Kael knelt in the center of it all.
His sword was buried beside him, still smoldering from the firestorm. His wings hung in tatters, the feathers burnt to ash. His chest rose and fell, shallow, every breath scraping against broken ribs.
But none of that mattered.
Because she was gone.
Anna.
Her light — the last radiant burst that had swallowed the Herald's army — had vanished into the storm, leaving only silence behind.
Kael's eyes stared at the scorched earth where she had stood.
His mind was blank — until the pain began.
It started like a whisper — the same cursed pulse that had lived in his veins since the shadow mark was born. But this time, it was louder. Hungry.
A voice coiled through his thoughts, deep and old as time.
"You could not save her. You never could."
Kael's hands clenched. His nails dug into the ash.
"But you can bring her back."
His breath caught. The shadow inside him pulsed brighter, spreading through his veins like ink.
He shook his head. "No. Not again."
"Again?" The voice laughed — a sound like cracking glass. "You think this is your first loss? Fool. You've lost her across a thousand lifetimes."
The air around him rippled. Shadows rose, shaping themselves into faces — Anna's faces. Different, yet the same: in armor, in crowns, in flame. Each of them fading in his arms.
Kael roared, slamming his fists into the earth. The ground cracked. "Stop it!"
But the shadows only thickened, swirling tighter around him.
"You were forged from ruin, Kael. You were never meant to save. You were meant to end."
His sword trembled beside him. The black fire reignited, crawling up the blade.
And through the distant storm — the rift began to stir.
Far above, within the heart of the broken heavens, something vast moved behind the red clouds. A massive silhouette—many-eyed, crowned in shattered halos.
The Herald had been only its echo.
This was its source.
The true master of the Dominion: The Mourning God.
It unfurled its wings, each the length of a continent, the air vibrating with its first breath in millennia. Every exhale turned the sky darker, warping gravity itself.
And with it came whispers — thousands of voices overlapping, crying, laughing, praying.
"He rises again. The Cycle begins anew."
Lightning cascaded from its body, striking the ruins below. Where it touched the ground, the dead stirred — the fallen soldiers of both light and shadow clawing their way from the ash.
Kael lifted his head, his vision swimming. "No…"
Their hollow eyes fixed on him.
"Serve."
The voice of the Mourning God tore through his mind.
Kael stumbled backward, shaking, clutching his chest. His power flared uncontrollably, shadows raging around him.
He screamed — and the earth split apart beneath him.
From the fissure, black flame burst upward, forming a massive circle of symbols around his body.
"You are my vessel."
"You will deliver the end."
Kael's veins glowed crimson-black. His wings reformed, larger and sharper, every feather burning. His eyes blazed with twin lights — one gold, one shadowed, Anna's reflection and his curse merging as one.
"NO!"
The word tore from his throat as he fought the possession. The shadows clawed back, twisting his face, but his defiance burned bright.
"She died saving this world!" he roared. "And I'll burn it again before I serve you!"
The Mourning God's laughter shattered the air.
"Then burn, my creation."
The explosion that followed was not light, nor dark — but both.
The shockwave annihilated everything for miles, tearing the clouds apart. The Mourning God's form rippled in amusement, pulling back into the storm.
And Kael — now half-destroyed, half-reborn — collapsed to his knees.
His power burned around him uncontrollably, devouring the very ground.
And then — a sound cut through the chaos.
A heartbeat.
Faint. Distant. Familiar.
Kael's head snapped up.
From the ashes ahead, where the last of Anna's light had vanished — something flickered. A faint shimmer of gold, pulsing softly, like a dying ember refusing to fade.
He staggered toward it, each step leaving molten footprints. "Anna?"
The ember pulsed again — brighter.
Then the air split, forming a golden silhouette — fragile, luminous, alive.
Her voice came as a whisper: "Kael…?"
He froze. Tears burned through the soot on his cheeks. "It's you…"
But before he could reach her, the light cracked — splitting like glass.
Anna screamed, clutching her chest as golden veins erupted across her body. Her glow turned red.
Kael reached out. "No—no, stay with me!"
But as he grabbed her, the world shifted again — a blinding rift opening beneath their feet, pulling them both into darkness.
The Mourning God's voice followed them as they fell:
"The cycle returns to the beginning. And this time, neither light nor shadow will escape."
When the world reformed, Kael found himself standing not in ash — but in a city of crystal towers and pale sun.
A different world.
And beside him — Anna, unconscious but breathing.
He stared at the horizon, where the same red crack still glowed faintly in the sky. His jaw clenched.
"It followed us."
He lifted his sword. "Then I'll finish it here."