Raelyn's glyphs flared to life, bolts of searing light crackling through the storm and slamming into Folainn's shield. He grunted under the pressure, arm straining to hold the barrier steady. But Benji was already there—sword raised, roaring as he struck.

Steel met summoned light with a resounding clang. Sparks scattered in the rain, dancing across the mud. Folainn parried, twisted to counter, his blade a streak of white light—but Benji ducked beneath it and swept low, forcing him back a step.

Folainn snarled and slammed his shield into Benji's chest, sending him stumbling. But Benji rolled with the blow, hitting the ground hard before sliding through the mud and rising again in one fluid motion.

Raelyn fired another glyph bolt.

It zipped past Benji's shoulder and forced Folainn to turn just slightly to deflect it—just long enough for Benji to close in again. Their blades collided with a shower of sparks, and Folainn's expression twisted.

"Enough!" he spat, voice sharp and cracking. "You think you can challenge me with these cheap tricks?"

He lashed out at Benji with a flurry of strikes, fast and brutal. Benji caught most of them, barely, the last blow glancing off his shoulder.

Folainn's free hand snapped upward. He funneled power into his blade, and it pulsed once—then fired a Glyph Bolt straight from the hilt.

Raelyn gasped and threw herself aside. The bolt seared past her face, burning the air beside her cheek.

She landed hard in the mud, rolled, and came up casting.

Another glyph. Another bolt. She aimed it low, forcing Folainn to jump to avoid it, just as Benji came in again with a wide swing that clipped his side.

Folainn hissed, stumbling.

"You're a maid!" he barked, voice trembling with fury. "You should be fetching scrolls and cleaning floors, not—" he swung wildly, and Benji knocked the blow away "—not standing against me!"

Raelyn clenched her jaw, breathing hard. Her limbs felt heavy, her medial stretched thin, but she conjured another bolt and let it fly.

Folainn caught it on his shield, grimacing.

"I am Folainn!" he shouted, the rain plastering his hair to his skull, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "The last magus of Ardesco! The strongest of all Unevia's gifted! You think you can defeat me? Me?"

He surged toward Raelyn, sword crackling, but Benji met him mid-step, their blades locking again. Raelyn staggered to the side, drawing another glyph with fingers that trembled with fatigue.

"You are nothing," Folainn growled, eyes flicking between them. "You should've died with the rest of Ardesco."

He struck at Benji again and again, but his movements were faltering now, heavy and erratic. Benji parried each one, forcing him to overextend, to lose ground.

Raelyn fired another bolt, catching him in the shoulder. It didn't kill him—but he cried out and stumbled back, his shield faltering.

His gaze snapped to her, wild and disbelieving.

"I was supposed to be the one to lead Unevia's rebirth," he rasped, chest heaving. "I was the one chosen by the gods!"

Raelyn saw the opening she had been waiting for.

A narrow window, a heartbeat's chance—just enough for one final gamble.

She reached for her locket, the metal slick with rain and streaked with blood. Her fingers closed around it, clutching it tight as she raised it toward Folainn. She averted her gaze, eyes squeezing shut against what she was about to unleash.

Benji, catching the motion, turned his head and threw up an arm to shield his eyes.

Then Raelyn's voice rang through the storm.

"Luminael!"

Light surged from her locket in a brilliant, blinding flare—white-gold and searing, cutting through the gloom like the sun breaking over a battlefield. The rain turned to steam in its wake. Folainn staggered backward, a cry tearing from his throat as he shielded his face against the radiance.

Benji didn't hesitate, boots tearing through the mud as he charged.

The ground beneath Folainn shimmered—glyphs flaring to life, golden lines of magic crackling across the wet earth. The trap Raelyn had laid earlier bloomed upward, binding him in place with a pulse of force. Folainn blinked in surprise, caught, stunned.

Then, despite everything, he laughed—short and breathless, teeth bared.

"Do you really think a glyph trap—"

His voice broke.

His eyes widened, a sharp breath caught in his throat as he looked down. A blade jutted clean through his chest, the light from the trap reflecting off the blood slicking its edge. For a moment, he stood motionless, his body frozen by shock.

Behind him, Benji held the sword with both hands, his shoulders trembling, his jaw set hard. Rain ran down his face, indistinguishable from sweat or tears. He leaned in close to Folainn's ear, his voice low.

"I'd rather be nothing alongside her, than alone and powerful like you."

Then, with a sharp pull, Benji wrenched the blade free.

Blood burst from the wound in a dark, hot gush, spreading across Folainn's robes and steaming in the cold rain. His body jerked once, eyes wide with the final, stunned realization that this was how his story ended. He remained standing, barely swaying, held upright by the magic still crackling at his feet—the glyph trap that kept him frozen in place.

Raelyn could only watch as the light drained from his eyes. The cruel confidence. The poisonous smile. All of it slipped away, leaving only the hollow shape of the man he used to be.

She lifted her hand and released the trap.

Folainn's body crumpled forward into the mud with a wet, final thud. Limbs twisted awkwardly beneath him, the rain pooling around his fallen form. The last remnants of his magic fizzled out in the air with a sigh.

And behind him, through the curtain of storm and steam, stood Benji—breathing hard, sword lowered, face unreadable.

Benji stood still for a long moment, breathing hard, his blade still lowered. Raelyn stared at him, her own breath caught somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief. They locked eyes—no words passed between them, just the quiet, raw acknowledgement of what they had done.

But the moment shattered as a deep, guttural roar tore through the mist.

Raelyn turned sharply, her heart still pounding from the kill, only to see a demon barreling toward them—hulking, fast, its mouth open in a wet snarl. Clawed feet tore through the mud, eyes gleaming with feral hunger.

"Benji!" she cried.

He spun, just in time to raise his sword. Steel met flesh in a brutal clash, and the force of it rattled through his arms. He gritted his teeth and shoved back, driving his shoulder into the creature's chest as they struggled for footing in the churned ground.

Raelyn summoned a glyph, flinging a bolt of light into the demon's ribs. It reeled, giving Benji the opening to drive his blade into its throat. The creature dropped with a gurgle, sinking into the mud at their feet.

The demon was a harsh reminder that their victory did not mark the end of their struggle. The battle was not yet done.

Lira and Fiovana were still locked in their magical struggle, water and shadow writhing across the battlefield in violent arcs. Steam and smoke curled around them, their wills pressing against one another with no clear victor. Lira stood firm, eyes narrowed in focus, while Fiovana swayed like a serpent in the storm, her shadows ever reaching.

Hovan and Sylvy had carved their way through Abigor's guard, the broken bodies of demons strewn behind them. Now they fought the demon commander directly, blades flashing against a massive cleaver that swung with brutal force. Abigor snarled, black ichor dripping from his fanged mouth, each strike of his blade forcing them further apart.

Raelyn's eyes flicked from one front to the other—until something pulled her attention.

A flicker of movement at the edge of the trees.

Baragor stood tall and still amidst the chaos, untouched by the mud, the blood, or the madness. His staff was raised, angled forward with purpose. The black stone at its crown swirled with darkness, growing more violent by the second—lightless energy twisting within it like a storm sealed in glass.

Raelyn followed the line of the staff and her breath hitched.

"Hovan!" she screamed.

But he didn't hear her. The sound of battle and the storm stole her voice.

The storm faded around her. Sound dulled. Even her heartbeat felt distant, thudding somewhere far away as her legs began to move on their own. Mud sucked at her boots, but she barely felt it. Her body surged forward, instinct driving her toward the only thing that mattered—Hovan.

The dark stone atop Baragor's staff pulsed once. Then again. Each time stronger. The swirling black energy curled like smoke inside crystal, wild and volatile. Raelyn could feel the pressure building from across the battlefield, like a scream waiting to tear free.

She forced her way forward, stumbling past a demon's half-buried corpse, her arm already rising, fingers splayed, ready to create the Shield of Light that would deflect the attack.

But she wasn't going to reach him in time.

A bolt of black lightning launched from the staff with a crack of magic that split the sky. A spear of shadow and hate tearing through the storm—aimed straight at Hovan's back.

Raelyn's heart seized.

He was too far. She wasn't close enough. No spell she knew could outpace that lightning. No glyph could reach him in time.

The idea came to her faster than she could register. Her hand flying to her chest before the thought had even finished forming. Her fingers closed around the familiar metal of her locket. She ripped it free and threw it.

The chain unfurled through the air like a comet's tail, the locket spinning fast and silver, catching the glow of the lightning as it flew. She prayed as she watched it—prayed it would be enough, that it would reach Hovan before the spell did, that something, anything, would happen.

Just as the black lightning neared its mark—just as it screamed through the air, ready to devour its target—the locket ignited.

It glowed, brighter and brighter, until it was blinding.

The lightning curved.

Like metal drawn to a lodestone, the bolt veered mid-flight, caught in the sudden pull of the locket's radiant core. The dark energy twisted in the air, redirected, swallowed whole by the tiny object flaring gold in the grey sky.

And then—

A soundless detonation of light erupted from its center, turning the battlefield white. The brilliance was searing—pure and otherworldly, as though the sun had been summoned to earth. The air vibrated, and the explosion's shockwave rolled out from the point of impact, sweeping across the battlefield in a blinding surge.

Raelyn was lifted off her feet. The wind tore the breath from her lungs as she was flung backward. The world spun around her, deafening and empty all at once. She slammed into the mud with a grunt, the impact jarring her bones, her ears ringing with an endless high-pitched whine.

The battlefield had fallen into a strange, breathless quiet. The explosion had cast everything into disarray—mud blackened and flung wide, a single crater torn into the earth like a raw wound. The rain hissed against scorched soil, and a low, eerie hum lingered in the air where the light had burst, as if the world itself still remembered the violence of that moment.

At first, there was only silence—a high, shrill ringing in her ears that drowned out everything else. Then came the sensation of rain, cool and insistent on her skin. Thunder rumbled far off, muffled and distant.

The air felt thick in her lungs and for a moment she couldn't draw it fully in. Her limbs trembled, with the shock of magic that had passed through her body. She felt disconnected from herself, as if her bones had been unmoored, her movements sluggish and unsteady.

She pushed herself up from the mud, fingers digging into the wet earth, her arms shaking beneath her own weight. Her body didn't want to move, but something urged her onward.

She needed to see him. To make sure he was alright.

Her eyes lifted, still blurred at the edges, vision swimming with the afterlight of the explosion. Bodies were strewn across the hill, demon and mortal alike. Some of the demons twitched where they lay, attempting to rise with shattered limbs, their forms mangled from the blast. Others were still.

Raelyn's gaze swept past them, searching. She ignored the sting of rain against her cheeks, ignored the trembling in her hands. She found the center of the blast—and her breath caught in her throat.

Hovan lay facedown near the heart of the crater, his body still, his form streaked with mud and blood. The gods' weapon was no longer in his hands; it lay yards away, forgotten, half-buried where it had skidded across the battlefield. The rain fell steadily over him, running in rivulets through the dirt, as if trying to wash him away.

Panic surged through her. She stumbled forward, her boots sinking into the soft ground as she half-ran, half-fell into the blast's impact zone. The world narrowed to a single point—the shape of Hovan's unmoving body.