Dante stepped into the silver-lit chamber, the air shifting from warm to cold in a breath. Shadows flowed in slow ribbons, trailing from carved obsidian pillars that curved like the bones of night. At the far end stood a man tall enough to dwarf the doorway behind Dante, clad in layered black garments that dripped like liquid starlight. His eyes were quiet—too quiet—holding the stillness of a universe where nothing moved.
Kael'thos, God of Death's Quiet Path.
He regarded Dante without blinking.
"Your soul bears the scent of endings," he said. "Come closer."
Dante swallowed, taking several steps forward. The cold deepened, but not painfully—more like the hush of an untouched winter field.
Across the veil of shimmering light to his left, a golden chamber stretched outward, where Anarissa entered beside Lysera. Light bloomed there like a sunrise trapped inside crystal, petals of radiance unfolding beneath her feet.
Myrielle, Goddess of Life, waited in the center—her body woven from living light and flowing warmth, with hair like strands of growing vines and eyes that shimmered like the first dawn.
She extended her hand toward Anarissa.
"Let me see you, child."
As Anarissa stepped forward, vines of golden luminescence twined around her wrists and ankles, gentle but probing.
In the silver chamber, Kael'thos traced a slow circle around Dante.
"I see where the soul split," he murmured. "Where two selves collided. Two dreams. Two deaths. Two ascents. Too much Oblivion in the wound."
He lifted a hand, and shadows peeled away from Dante's back, revealing a faint lattice of cracks along his essence—fractures glowing with silver and night-blue.
Dante's pulse hammered at the sight. "Is it… that bad?"
"It is remarkable you have shape at all," Kael'thos said calmly.
Through the glowing veil separating the chambers, Myrielle's voice echoed, soft but troubled.
"Anarissa, your fractures run deeper than I hoped. Life coils around your essence, trying to protect it, but the Oblivion within you keeps devouring what it touches."
Anarissa's breath caught. "So… can you fix it?"
Lysera stood behind her, hands clasped. "That is what we must discuss now."
Kael'thos stepped beside the veil. Myrielle mirrored him, and with a gesture, the barrier shimmered thinner until the twins could hear both sides clearly.
Kael'thos spoke first.
"There are three methods of repairing a fractured god-soul."
Myrielle nodded. "And none are simple."
Kael'thos raised one finger.
"The first: slow mending. Life nourishes, Death stabilizes. But given your condition—"
Myrielle continued for him.
"—the process may take thousands of years. And you would be too unstable to cultivate divinity in that time. Your power would stagnate."
Dante and Anarissa exchanged uneasy glances.
Kael'thos lifted a second finger.
"The second method: compression."
Myrielle's expression dimmed. "Forcing the soul to knit by overwhelming it with raw divine essence."
Dante frowned. "That sounds… violent."
"It is," Kael'thos said. "And dangerous. One misstep, and your divinity will collapse inward. Oblivion will consume what remains."
"No," Myrielle said, shaking her head. "I will not permit that method for you."
The twins nodded silently.
Kael'thos lifted a third finger but hesitated.
"There is a final method. Rarely spoken. Rarely used."
Myrielle inhaled, closing her eyes. "Soul removal followed by mortal reincarnation."
Dante stared at them, unsure he'd heard right.
"You're saying you'd take pieces of our souls out… then send them into the mortal world?"
Kael'thos answered with his unsettling calm.
"We remove the fractured segments before they rupture. What remains of your essence—your true divine souls—will stabilize and heal rapidly once the damage is gone."
"And reincarnation," Myrielle added, "would not be for you, but for the fractured pieces themselves. They cannot be kept. They cannot be destroyed. They must be reborn."
Anarissa stepped closer to the barrier. "So the fragments… will become new versions of us?"
"Yes," Myrielle said softly. "Mortal avatars shaped from your fractured soul pieces. They will live full lives, grow, and develop into new selves."
"Will they remember us?" Dante asked quietly.
"They will remember everything the fractured pieces carried," Kael'thos said. "And more importantly—"
Myrielle finished with a gentle smile.
"—they will remain connected to you. Spiritually, mentally. Across planes. You will sense them. They will sense you."
Anarissa touched her own chest. "So they'll still be… part of us?"
Kael'thos nodded. "Always. But you must understand—your avatars will not be your duplicates. They will be born mortal, with their own paths and choices. Their own pains. Their own joys."
"And eventually," Myrielle said, "they may grow strong enough to rejoin you… or stand beside you as independent divine beings."
Dante exhaled. "And we remain here? As gods?"
"Once the fractured portions are removed," Kael'thos said, "your divine souls will stabilize within hours."
Anarissa swallowed.
"And the fractured memories? Will we lose them?"
"Only those bound to the damaged pieces," Myrielle answered. "But your core selves will remain complete."
The weight of it sat heavy on the twins.
Dante whispered, "A part of us dies… and is born again."
Anarissa replied softly, "And we watch over them from afar."
Kael'thos bowed his head slightly—an unusual gesture from a god of death. "It is the cleanest solution. The safest. And the most merciful for your fractured selves."
Dante looked at Anarissa. She met his gaze, fear and resolve mingling.
"We've come this far," he said. "We don't abandon parts of ourselves now."
She nodded. "Let them live. Let them grow."
Myrielle stepped forward, offering her hands. "Then speak your decision."
Dante inhaled. "Do it."
Anarissa lifted her chin. "We choose soul removal. Let our avatars be born."
Kael'thos and Myrielle exchanged a long, solemn look. Two primal forces preparing an act that could shape worlds.
Myrielle's voice softened.
"Then the ritual begins."
Kael'thos extended his hand, shadows spiraling outward.
"And the rebirth follows."
Light swelled in one chamber.
Shadow deepened in the other.
The doors sealed with a sound like the closing of a world.
The twins stood ready.
Gods—whole, powerful, eternal—preparing to let fragments of themselves be born anew in the mortal realm.