[Helga's POV - Elmer Academy Entrance]
The night air was thick with damp, the kind of heavy wetness that clung to your cloak and made steel feel colder than it ought to.
Reina, as usual, walked a little ahead of Yorz and me, though 'walked' was a generous term. She stumbled more than strode, arms swinging loosely at her sides, her braid half-undone and catching in the wind like a banner of mischief.
"This is so nostalgic," she said cheerfully, spinning once on her heel with the grace of someone who might fall flat at any moment. "The three of us, together again. Just like old times."
I didn't respond.
Neither did Yorz.
Reina blinked at the silence, then grinned crookedly and bumped her shoulder into mine. "Come on, don't pretend you're not enjoying this. I've seen you smile before. Once. I think. Maybe it was a twitch."
Helga exhaled through her nose, eyes forward, boots steady on the gravel path.
Yorz remained as she always was, gliding rather than walking, her cloak whispering behind her, eyes half-lidded and unreadable. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the guildhall. Not a word wasted.
Reina clicked her tongue. "Gods, you two are so boring when you're focused."
No reply.
Reina flung her arms up dramatically. "Alright, fine, be that way. But at least remind me what the plan was again. I may have been, uh… preoccupied when we discussed it. Mentally."
I arched a brow. "Preoccupied."
Reina smiled sheepishly. "Okay, slightly drunk. But functionally drunk. I call that a win."
Yorz didn't stop walking, didn't even turn her head, but her voice slid into the night like a blade. "The plan hasn't changed."
Reina mock-gasped. "No! You mean we're still doing the reckless infiltration thing with minimal intel and questionable allies? What a surprise."
My eyes flicked to her. "You're the questionable ally."
"And proud," Reina said, planting her hands on her hips. "So. Are we climbing over walls, digging under tunnels, or seducing our way through enchanted security?"
"We're meeting someone," Yorz said flatly. "A faculty member. Front gate."
That made Reina pause. "Wait. You have a contact? Since when do you trust anyone with a job that isn't us?"
Yorz gave her a look. "I don't."
Reina grinned, pleased by the answer. "Ah. That's more like it."
The trio reached the base of a wide stone staircase, half-lit by the glow of soft magical lanterns embedded in the walls. The Academy loomed beyond, a patchwork of towers and ivy-wrapped halls, its silhouette jagged against the dark sky. The main gate, usually bustling with students during the day, now stood quiet under the eye of two gargoyle statues perched above its arch.
A figure waited just beyond them.
They were tall, lanky, dressed in the robes of a junior faculty member, deep navy, embroidered with silver threading that shimmered in the low light. Their face was youthful, pale, with high cheekbones and a nervous smile that twitched at the corners.
They waved once, hesitantly, as we approached.
"Name's Lemuel," the figure said as they stepped closer. Their voice was smooth but tight, like someone trying very hard not to sound as anxious as they felt. "You must be… Yorz and company."
Reina nudged Helga. "That's us. Company. Like a fine bottle of wine and a wrecking ball."
Yorz stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "You got our path ready?"
Lemuel nodded quickly, tugging at the collar of his robes. "Yes, yes. As promised. I've made sure the night ward rotation doesn't cover the eastern storage annex for the next fifteen minutes. We'll need to move quickly, though. There are still arcane sentries in place if we linger."
I crossed my arms, eyeing him. "And you disabled them?"
"Modified," Lemuel corrected. "If we stay within the marked corridor, they'll register us as part of the faculty. Any deviation and… well, I take no responsibility for disintegrations."
Reina gave him a big thumbs-up. "Cheery."
He gave her a nervous laugh.
Yorz nodded once. "Then lead the way."
Lemuel hesitated, glancing toward the quiet gate, then turned and walked quickly toward it. The wards shimmered faintly as he raised a sigil-marked hand and pressed it to the stone beside the gate.
There was a soft click.
The doors opened.
Lemuel walked ahead with quick steps, his boots barely making a sound against the polished stone tiles of the Academy's entry hall. The place was still. Dim. Not dead, no, too much ambient energy in the walls for that, but resting. Like a beast in slumber, waiting for teeth to wake.
I'd never liked school.
Too many corners. Too many doors. Too many rules pretending to keep something contained.
Yorz moved like she owned the floor beneath her, cloak trailing behind in perfect silence. Reina stuck close to her, closer than usual, probably because even her half-drunken brain could feel the air changing. The deeper we moved in, the heavier it got. Not physically. Not magically.
Spiritually.
There was something wrong here.
Lemuel glanced back once, offering a tight smile.
"Down this way," he whispered, pointing to a side hallway that curved toward a narrow staircase.
The lanterns along the walls were dimmer here. Older. Powered by something other than flame or crystal. The light they gave off wasn't white, but a sort of mossy green, like mould trying to glow.
We followed him.
Reina muttered behind me. "Gods, it smells like wet paper and regret down here."
I didn't respond. Neither did Yorz.
The hallway grew tighter. Arched stone overhead. Uneven walls. No windows. Just alcoves filled with disused desks, crumbling chalkboards, and display cases with cracked glass and dust-covered trophies.
Lemuel slowed, then stopped at an old faculty-only door with rusted hinges. His hands hovered over a hidden panel to the right, brushing over a sequence of runes etched in faint blue ink.
"I'll open this," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "But once we're inside, I won't be able to go any further. If I'm found down there, even my status won't protect me. You understand?"
Yorz didn't blink. "That's fine. You've done enough."
He swallowed. Nodded. Then pressed the final rune.
The door groaned inward.
A wave of cold hit my face, really cold. Not the damp chill of basements or forgotten storage halls. This was something deeper. More ancient.
Soul-deep.
Reina stopped beside me, her face sobering instantly. She didn't joke this time. Didn't smirk.
Yorz stepped through first.
I followed.
The moment my boots crossed the threshold, I felt it.
The pressure.
It sat on my skin like oil. Buzzed behind my eyes. The weight of magic is not meant to be seen, let alone walked into. This wasn't some makeshift ritual space. This wasn't some teenage summoner's mistake.
This was a place built for something wrong.
The stairwell coiled downward in a spiral. Carved stone. Narrow. No rails. Just a sheer drop to one side and slick moss growing where too many feet hadn't trod in years.
I kept one hand on the wall. My other hand drifted to my sword's hilt. No steel yet. Not yet. But the weight was comforting.
Reina was behind me now. Close.
"She felt this too, didn't she?" she asked quietly.
I didn't look back. "Who?"
"Your kid."
I paused.
Then said, "Yeah. He felt it."
A few more steps down. No voices. No footsteps above. Just us, the dark, and whatever was breathing beneath this school.
Yorz finally stopped at the bottom.
It opened into a hallway.
Not a chamber. Not a tomb. Just… a hallway.
But the tiles here were black. Polished obsidian, veined with silver lines. The walls were smooth, carved with vertical ridges that seemed to pulse, like veins under skin.
And across from us, maybe thirty paces down, was a large, sealed door.
Not locked with metal.
But sealed.
Runes flickered across its surface, not drawn but burned into the stone.
Reina muttered, "That's not standard curriculum."
"No," I said softly. "It's not."
Yorz stepped ahead of us, examining the door with a careful eye. Her hand hovered just above one of the runes, not touching, but tracing the air around it.
"Ritual magic," she said. "Old. Not Infernal. Not Draconic. Something older."
I approached and squinted. "Elvish?"
"No." Her brow furrowed. "Fae-touched, maybe. But broken. Repurposed."
Reina tilted her head. "To do what?"
Yorz looked back at us, her voice low.
"Keep something in."
I felt my knuckles tighten around my weapon's hilt.
That buzzing pressure behind my eyes hadn't gone away.
If anything… it was stronger here. Like a whisper at the base of my skull.
Fin.
I blinked.
Did I just...
No. Not possible.
But I took a slow step forward anyway, toward the sealed door. My boots echoed against the obsidian tile, the sound swallowed immediately by the walls.
There was something beyond that seal.
Something I wasn't ready for.
"Wait," Yorz said quietly, just as I started to step closer.
Her tone wasn't sharp, but it stopped me all the same. Her hand was still raised, fingers brushing the air around the rune-sealed door like she could feel it breathing. Maybe she could.
Reina, of course, didn't wait.
She strode right past us with a breezy "Yeah, yeah," and planted herself in front of the door like a kid at a candy stall.
"C'mon," she said, tossing a glance over her shoulder, "it's already open. Look."
And it was.
Somehow.
The runes had dimmed the moment she approached. The faint glow faded, the pressure in the air softened, and with a groan like old bones shifting, the seal unravelled. The door cracked open by itself.
No chanting. No magic circles. No keys.
Just… opened.
Reina grinned and slipped through without a second thought.
Yorz didn't follow.
I turned to her. "You did that."
Her expression didn't change. "Did I?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You didn't touch it. Didn't say a word."
"Maybe it was waiting for her."
I didn't buy that. Not really. But now wasn't the time to poke holes.
We stepped inside.
The room beyond was dim, lit by half-dead magical sconces that sputtered with faint violet-blue light. The air smelled like burnt parchment and copper. Like the aftertaste of spellwork gone wrong.
And the space…
It looked like a storm had passed through.
Books were scattered across the floor. Papers torn from desks. Cabinets half-open, contents spilled. One corner had a broken scrying mirror still buzzing with static light, its surface fractured like spiderweb glass. Several magical conduits ran along the walls, half-torn, half-burnt.
Whoever had been here hadn't just left.
They'd fled.
"Someone cleared out," I muttered.
Reina was already crouched near a table, rummaging through the mess. "Or got spooked. You don't run unless something gets too close."
Yorz took her time entering. She walked slowly, gaze drifting over every inch of the room like she was memorising the scene for a reconstruction later.
"I doubt we'll find whoever was working here," she said. "Not tonight."
"But we might find what they left behind," Reina added, digging through a pile of papers with too much enthusiasm.
Yorz nodded once. "Split up."
I blinked. "You sure?"
She met my eyes. "We cover more ground. Don't touch anything glowing. If it's humming, don't look at it. If it's bleeding, leave."
Reina threw a thumbs-up. "Classic rules. Got it."
I scanned the room again. Shelves, desks, partially-dismantled arcane stations, at least three doorways leading deeper in.
Not ideal. Too many corners. Too many exits.
But Yorz wasn't wrong.
We needed to know what this place was.
So I gave a short nod and peeled off toward the right, boots crunching on a shattered sigil plate.
The door ahead of me creaked open with a soft push.
And the shadows inside waited, just a little too still.
I moved through the right-hand corridor in silence.
The room beyond wasn't large, maybe a storage study or a side archive, but it was just as empty as the one before. Empty in the wrong way.
Not dusty. Not abandoned.
Cleaned.
Even the dust looked arranged, like someone had waved a spell through the place to scrub it of evidence. The shelves were bare. The floor was swept. Only a few stray bits of parchment remained, each blank or burned at the edges.
I crouched near what looked like a ritual station, charcoal stains on the stone, melted wax long hardened into streaks that led nowhere. Not a single trace of magic still lingered. Nothing to read. Nothing to smell. Whoever left didn't just pack; they erased.
"Sloppy job," I muttered under my breath. "But thorough."
A sharp whistle echoed from the main chamber.
"Helga!" Reina's voice carried loud and clear. "You might want to see this!"
I stood immediately, hand on my sword's hilt as I retraced my steps.
Reina was standing near the far wall now, where another sealed doorway loomed, larger than the last, its stone darker, runes thicker and pulsing just faintly with a gold-and-indigo light.
"It's locked," she said. "Same deal. Older, creepier. So, you know, perfect."
Yorz was already beside her, studying the seal without speaking. She raised one hand, slowly, deliberately, and her fingers hovered in the air just inches from the glyphs.
They dimmed.
The lock unravelled.
And with the low hiss of displaced air, the door opened again.
Just like before.
No chants. No tools. No keys.
Just Yorz.
I frowned, stepping closer. "Alright. What was that?"
Yorz didn't look at me.
Instead, she simply said, "I've been learning."
That didn't sit right.
Not with her tone. Not with the way the magic responded to her, not as if she was forcing it, but like it already belonged to her.
Reina blinked. "Since when do you learn magic?"
Yorz finally turned her head, meeting my eyes. Calm. Measured.
"Since I needed to."
It was too vague. Too flat. And too damn deliberate.
But I didn't push.
Not yet.
Beyond the now-opened door, a wide stone stairwell curved downward, coiling into the dark like a throat ready to swallow us.
From here, I couldn't see the bottom. Couldn't hear anything. But I felt it.
The pressure again.
Worse than upstairs.
Reina exhaled slowly beside me. "Okay. This one feels like a trap."
Yorz stepped to the edge of the stairs and peered down into the gloom.
"We're going," she said simply.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Just certainty.
I stared at her for a moment longer.
Then, at the shadows waiting below.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "Of course we are."
And together, the three of us went down.
The air shifted with each step. Not colder, heavier. The walls pulsed faintly with veins of pink-purple light, throbbing like veins under ancient skin. The stairs twisted and narrowed, but the deeper we went, the more I realised…
This place was bigger than it should be.
Older.
Not part of the Academy's original structure.
Carved deeper, into something forgotten.
Then the stairwell ended.
And the world opened.
We stepped into a chamber so massive it took a full breath just to comprehend it. A cathedral of stone and steel, circular and sunken, with concentric walkways spiralling down into a central pit that housed...
Gods.
No.
It was a machine.
And not the kind you saw in dwarven forges or gnomish workshops.
This thing was alive.
Twisting coils of blackened steel spiralled upward like ribs from the floor, forming a skeletal cage around a suspended core, an orb of silver and black, rotating slowly in the air, humming with a sound that wasn't a sound. It vibrated through my bones. Lights flickered across it like stars caught in a whirlpool.
And around it...
Souls.
Thousands of them.
Flickering shapes like screaming wisps, tethered by strands of light and drawn into the machine's orbit. Some fast. Some slow. All trapped.
Reina took a shaky step forward. "What… in the gods' names… is this?"
My throat was dry.
Too dry.
My tongue felt like lead.
But the words still came.
"…Kael'ven."
Yorz turned toward me, brows barely rising. "What?"
"This…" I gestured slowly. "This is what he was working on before he died. He called it a siphon. A soul lattice designed to contain magic beyond the Weave. He was obsessed with stabilising energy from the Other Side."
Reina's voice was sharp. "You said he died. You said it was over."
I stayed silent.
Yorz moved forward, down the first spiral, her eyes locked on the central construct. "You never said he built something like this."
"He didn't," I muttered. "Not completely. This is… more refined. Finished."
Reina looked between us, then at me. "You knew."
I didn't answer.
Because I did.
Not this, not here, but something close. Something older.
He'd shown me pieces. Diagrams. Rants. Theories.
And I'd watched him burn them in madness.
But this, this wasn't madness.
This was deliberate.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice cut through the chamber.
We all turned at once.
At the far edge of the chamber, descending from an upper catwalk with slow, deliberate steps, came a figure dressed in obsidian robes, trimmed in purple. Her hair was pinned back in black rings, falling in inky waves past her shoulders. Her skin shimmered faintly with arcane light, and her eyes…
Gods.
Those eyes were the same as his.
Familiar.
Cruel.
Beautiful.
She stopped at the platform overlooking the machine, arms folded behind her back.
"I thought I made myself very clear when I let your scout leave alive."
Yorz stiffened.
Reina's hand drifted to her dagger.
I just stared.
"…Saelira."
Her name left my lips like a curse. Like a prayer.
Like a ghost.
She smiled, slow and elegant.
"Hello, Helga. Still dragging your guilt like a sword, I see."
My grip on the hilt tightened. My heart pounded.
But I didn't move.
Not yet.
Saelira turned her gaze to the soul machine behind her. "Beautiful, isn't it? Father would've been proud. You never understood it, but I… I listened. I believed."
Yorz's voice was low, dangerous. "You're the one running the experiments here."
Saelira didn't deny it.
She stepped to the edge of the platform, hands outstretched as if presenting a masterpiece.
"This is only the beginning."
The machine pulsed behind her, faster, brighter. The trapped souls screamed in unison, silent but felt.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt something like fear.
Because I'd seen what Kael'ven wanted to build.
But I never believed anyone would finish it.
Saelira stood before the machine like a prophet before an altar.
Backlit by the swirling maelstrom of souls, her silhouette was all grace and shadow. Regal. Composed. Eyes bright with purpose no sane mind should carry. And gods, she looked so young.
Too young to be this far gone.
"You shouldn't have come," she said softly, as if we were the ones who'd broken something sacred. "Not here. Not after everything you took."
I drew a slow breath, forced my grip to loosen on the hilt.
"You don't get to play the victim, Saelira."
Her gaze snapped to me. "Don't I?"
She descended a few more steps, each one deliberate, controlled. She was above us, still elevated, both in height and in how she clearly saw herself.
"You burned it all down, Helga," she continued. "You destroyed us. Our family. Our father. You left him alone."
"I saved him," I said coldly. "From all of this."
Saelira's expression twisted. Not with anger.
With pity.
"You stole him," she said. "You tore him away from everything he was meant to become. From us."
"There was no us, Saelira," I snapped. "There never was."
Her jaw clenched.
And I knew then, I'd struck something deep.
But I wasn't done.
"You think he was your father," I said. "You think you were part of some twisted, chosen family. But you weren't."
Her silence wasn't a surprise.
It was fury.
"You want the truth?" I stepped forward. "Kael'ven found you during one of the rituals. Your village was in the way. He slaughtered your parents. Left your neighbours to burn."
"Lies," she said flatly.
"He took you," I said. "He raised you in lies. In chains made of flattery and magic. You were a tool. A plaything. Just another thing he wanted to bend into his vision."
Saelira's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Shut up."
But I didn't.
Because I had to say it.
"He isn't your father, Saelira. He kidnapped you."
She screamed.
A wordless, shattering sound that echoed off the stone and made the soul machine pulse violently in response. The wisps spun faster, flaring as if mirroring her rage.
Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her body trembled with fury.
"You're lying," she spat. "You always lied. That's what you do. That's what you did."
Her eyes, her father's eyes, were locked on me.
"He raised me," she hissed. "He taught me. He showed me how to become free. He loved us."
"No," I said, voice low, steady. "He possessed us. There's a difference."
She laughed. A brittle, broken sound.
"And what would you know about love, Helga?" she asked, her voice shaking with emotion. "You ran. You left him to die. You left me to die."
"I left because I realised the truth. Because I couldn't keep helping him hurt people."
Her voice cracked. "You took Fin away."
I froze.
"He was meant to stay," she went on, her tone growing sharp, almost desperate. "We were meant to raise him together. He was going to help bring Father back. That was always the plan."
I stared at her, the pieces falling into place like rotten teeth.
"You… really believe that," I said.
Saelira's eyes shimmered. "He's my brother."
I stepped back once. Just once.
Because this wasn't loyalty.
It wasn't faith.
This was delusion.
"You're broken," I whispered.
"No," she said, almost lovingly. "I'm his. I'm what he made me."
Reina moved beside me now, dagger in hand, expression unreadable.
But I could feel it in the air, like flint about to spark.
Saelira turned her back to us, facing the machine again. Her voice was calm now. Controlled.
"This is the end of your trespassing, Helga. You shouldn't have come. You brought rot into sacred ground."
"We came to stop this."
"You can't," she said simply.
Yorz's hand drifted toward her belt. "Then we'll burn it all."
Saelira smiled, just slightly, without turning.
"No. You'll try."
And the machine behind her pulsed again, like a heartbeat. A twisted, hungry heartbeat.
Then everything exploded.
Light. Pressure. Screaming.
A wave of soul energy hit us like a tidal wall. It wasn't fire or wind or stone, it was sorrow. Pure, unfiltered agony, crashing into my chest and hurling me back.
My back hit stone. Hard.
My ears rang. My breath caught.
Reina slammed into the railing behind me with a grunt and a curse, blood streaking from her temple.
Yorz, gods, even she was knocked sideways, landing in a heap against a broken rune panel, her cloak torn and her glasses askew.
And above it all…
Saelira stood untouched, robes billowing, arms outstretched as tendrils of soul magic coiled around her like living flame. Wisps screamed as they circled her body, feeding her. Defending her.
She didn't gloat.
She didn't laugh.
She simply watched us break.
"You shouldn't have come," she said again, softly.
I forced myself up.
One knee. Then two.
Blade already drawn.
Not my greatsword. That was for monsters.
This… this needed the short sword.
Precise. Controlled.
I launched forward, everything in me focused on her. Not to kill. Not yet. I needed answers. I needed to get through.
"Saelira!"
Her eyes flicked to mine, and the ground in front of her cracked.
No, opened.
A burst of violet erupted between us as soul-formed creatures clawed into existence from the stone itself. Not demons. Not ghosts.
Constructs.
Twisted amalgamations of soul and sorrow. Arms of half-melted bone. Faces locked in silent screams. Their forms shimmered with raw suffering, shaped into weapons.
One lunged.
I slashed through it, metal meeting not flesh, but resistance, like slicing grief itself. It screamed as it fell apart.
Another took its place.
Then another.
And another.
Saelira raised her hand, and they kept coming.
Reina, bloodied but upright, flung a dagger that ricocheted off one of the constructs, vanishing into mist.
"Too fast!" she shouted. "They're everywhere!"
Yorz, breathing heavily, stood slowly, her cloak tattered, one arm hanging limp, but her eyes sharp. Her fingers moved quickly across a charm etched in her belt.
She whispered something I didn't catch.
Magic shimmered in the air, slowing one of the constructs just enough for her to drive a knife straight through its chest.
It wailed.
And dissolved.
"Buy me time!" Yorz called out.
I cut down another.
And another.
But I couldn't reach her.
Saelira stood just beyond the tide. Watching.
Untouched.
Unblinking.
Her eyes glowed now, brighter with every soul that died in her name.
She didn't shout.
She didn't command.
She breathed, and the constructs obeyed.
I pushed forward, step by step, blade soaked in spectral blood.
But no matter how many I cut down…
She stayed just out of reach.
They kept coming.
Wave after wave of soul-born monsters, howling their agony into the stone chamber as they lunged with claws made of grief and hatred. For every one I cut down, two more clawed their way through the floor or the walls or thin air. My arms ached. My shoulder bled. My mind rang like a cracked bell.
Yorz moved like a phantom, one arm still limp, her other hand flicking knives and runes like brushstrokes across a cursed canvas. She disabled three constructs with a single symbol pressed to the wall. Impressive.
Reina, blood smeared across her cheek, leapt off the upper railing and dropped onto one of the larger ones. Her daggers flashed, blades dancing like fireflies in a storm, as she tore through its spine and dissolved it in a cascade of shimmering dust.
"Helga!" she shouted. "Push forward!"
"I am pushing!"
Together, we surged through the final line of constructs. A brutal dance of steel and instinct. My blade found the last one's heart, and Reina's found its throat, spectral or not, and for a brief moment, the room breathed.
The floor was slick with ectoplasmic residue. The soul machine crackled with more violent energy, but the constructs had stopped.
Saelira remained unmoved.
Still at the centre of the chaos. Still smiling.
Reina panted beside me. "Alright. That's enough. I've had it with the creepy theatrics."
She pulled one of her last throwing daggers from her belt, etched silver, needle-thin, rune-carved.
Yorz didn't stop her.
Neither did I.
With a flick of her wrist, Reina let it fly.
It arced through the air like a silver comet.
And struck.
Dead centre.
Right between Saelira's glowing eyes.
She staggered back a step, and Reina's voice rang out like a triumphant horn blast:
"HEADSHOT!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Saelira… laughed.
A low, melodic sound.
Her hand reached up.
And slowly, deliberately, she pulled the dagger free from her forehead.
No blood.
Just a trail of violet light, flickering like candle smoke.
She turned the blade over in her fingers, almost admiring it.
"You always were dramatic," she said calmly.
Reina took a full step back. "Oh, fuck off."
Saelira dropped the dagger with a clatter onto the stone. Her head wound sealed itself with an audible hiss, like meat sizzling on a forge.
Yorz exhaled sharply through her nose. "She's not corporeal."
"She's cheating," Reina snapped. "She's cheating!"
"She's possessed," I corrected, my voice hollow. "Or partially soul-bound to the machine."
I took a step forward, but my legs felt heavier now.
Saelira tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "You can't hurt me like this," she said. "Not with iron. Not with steel. Not with little knives thrown by trembling hands."
"I'm not trembling," Reina barked.
Saelira ignored her.
Her gaze fell on me.
"You still don't understand, do you?" she asked softly. "This isn't about strength. Or spells. Or revenge. This is about family."
I grit my teeth. "Then why does it feel like war?"
Her smile widened.
"Because families fight the hardest."
Saelira descended the stairs like a queen walking toward her coronation, violet soulfire burning beneath her skin. The machine behind her churned louder now, faster, casting ghostly light across the chamber as the wailing of the bound spirits rose into a hideous chorus.
Nothing we'd done had touched her.
Nothing could.
Not while she was bound to that thing.
Yorz stepped up beside me, her voice low, measured. "She's not invulnerable."
"Could've fooled me," Reina muttered, wiping blood from her brow.
"She's channelling through the machine."
"And we're supposed to punch her spirit?" Reina scoffed.
Yorz didn't answer right away.
But then I saw it, that flicker in her eyes, like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
She turned to me. "You said the soul machine binds through her, right? Not just around her."
I nodded slowly, heartbeat still thundering in my ears. "It's a conduit. She's not just using it. She's tethered to it."
Yorz looked straight at me. "Then you need to cut the tether."
I knew what she meant.
Knew what it would cost.
I reached down and drew the second blade from the sheath on my back.
Golden steel hummed as I unsheathed it, faint radiant light flowing across the blade like water catching fire.
Yorz didn't hesitate.
She turned, sprinting toward the left flank of the dais.
"Reina. With me."
Reina blinked. "Wait, what..."
"Distract her."
Reina grimaced but followed, flipping a dagger between her fingers. "Fine. But if she rips my head off again, I'm haunting you."
They moved fast, circling, drawing Saelira's gaze.
"Really, girls?" Saelira called out, her tone almost disappointed. "You think flanking me will change anything?"
"You talk a lot for someone with a dagger still in her skull," Reina shouted.
Saelira snarled, spinning toward them.
And that was my opening.
I moved.
Golden blade in both hands. Feet silent against the stone. Muscles screaming. Breath held.
One step.
Two.
Now.
I surged forward with everything I had, soul light trailing behind me like a comet, and struck.
The golden greatsword arced upward in a perfect diagonal slash, humming with radiant fury as it cleaved through her shoulder...
And bit deep.
There was a burst of searing light, a scream not from her throat but from something within and then her arm came off.
Not bloodied.
Not served in the usual way.
Unmade.
It hit the ground with a splash of light and dissolved into raw ether.
Saelira shrieked, not in pain, but in rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
She staggered back, one arm now gone, soulfire leaking from the wound like smoke escaping a furnace.
Her eyes locked on me.
No amusement now.
Only hate.
"…You."
The blade hummed in my hands, still glowing.
And I met her stare without blinking.
"I'm done holding back."
She stumbled.
For the first time.
Saelira clutched her shoulder, what remained of it, as golden light hissed against the soul-stitched skin where her arm had once been. Her face was twisted, not in pain exactly, but in disbelief. Like the laws she thought she was made of had just been rewritten.
"You… cut me," she breathed.
"Yeah," I said, shifting my stance, blade humming. "And I'm not done."
She raised her remaining hand, fury spiking in her aura.
The machine screamed.
Another wave of soul-constructs burst into existence, less refined, more frantic now. They flickered, unstable, snarling half-formed things with too many limbs and no mouths. Her rage fed them, but it made them sloppy.
Reina didn't hesitate.
She dashed forward, flipping two daggers into her hands mid-stride and diving beneath one of the flailing creatures.
She landed low and stabbed upward through its core.
"Focus on the real one!" she yelled. "I'll deal with the spares!"
Yorz followed close behind, cloak torn, blood trickling from her scalp, but eyes cold and sharp. Her hand moved across a charm etched in blood and silver, muttering a phrase I didn't recognise.
With a flick of her wrist, chains of radiant light burst from the floor, snaring two of the constructs mid-lunge.
"Go!" she barked.
I did.
I charged again, golden sword slamming downward in a heavy arc.
Saelira raised her hand to block, but my blade wasn't steel. It wasn't meant for skin.
It passed through her arm like fire through paper, burning away the spectral layer of her soulform. She hissed, stumbling back, but not fast enough.
Reina was already there, dagger sailing into Saelira's thigh with a solid thunk.
"Bleed, you crazy bitch!"
It didn't bleed.
It shattered, another flare of soul-light crackling from the wound as her leg buckled.
Yorz, without a word, stepped beside me now, her hand pressed against her own chest, whispering another incantation.
A burst of radiant magic spiralled outward, buffeting Saelira in the chest. It didn't hurt her directly, but it knocked her down.
She crashed onto one knee.
A beat passed.
Then another.
I stepped forward slowly, sword raised, golden light bleeding into the air around me like dawn cutting through fog.
Saelira looked up at me.
Face pale.
Eyes wide.
The fury was still there.
But underneath it… fear.
"You… you're ruining everything," she whispered. "You don't understand. He was supposed to come back. We were supposed to fix it."
I stared down at her.
Voice even.
"You want to fix the past. I'm here to stop you from repeating it."
Her hand trembled.
She looked at her missing arm.
Her bleeding soul.
And for the first time,
She broke.
She fell.
Both knees hit the ground.
And all around us, the soul machine began to dim.
The silence was oppressive.
Not the kind that followed victory, there was no triumph here. Just the dim whine of the soul machine winding down behind us, no longer feeding Saelira's power, no longer screaming with stolen lives. Just… quiet.
She stayed on her knees.
Head bowed. Shoulders slack. One arm gone, her other hand limp in her lap, fingers twitching like they hadn't realised yet that the fight was over.
Reina exhaled sharply behind me, spinning a dagger between her fingers with nervous energy.
"Well?" she said, stepping forward. "That's it? We done?"
Neither I nor Yorz answered.
Saelira didn't move.
Reina's tone hardened. "She nearly killed us. Nearly raised a soul god. Nearly dragged Fin back into that hell. What's stopping us?"
Still no answer.
Reina's eyes narrowed.
"I say we kill her," she snapped. "Get it over with before she gets up again. You saw what she was, what she did. No saving someone far gone."
I stepped past her without a word.
"Helga," Reina said, more cautious now. "What are you, "
I dropped to my knees.
Not in surrender.
But because that's where she was.
Saelira's eyes twitched open, barely. Glowing faint, dimming with each breath.
She looked smaller now.
Thinner.
Like the power had been holding her together more than flesh ever had.
Her lips moved, dry. "Go on. Finish it."
I stared at her for a long time.
Then I reached out and placed a hand gently on her good shoulder.
She flinched at the touch.
But didn't pull away.
"You weren't born broken," I said softly. "Neither was I."
Her head tilted slightly.
I kept going.
"We were both taken. Bent. Used. Lied to."
Her eyes flicked to me, confused, suspicious, tired.
"Kael'ven did this to us," I said. "He carved out everything soft and left us with nothing but purpose. You thought you were special. I thought I was strong. We were both wrong."
Saelira's jaw trembled, but no words came.
"You don't have to carry him anymore," I whispered. "You don't have to be his. We can end this. Together."
The light in her dimmed a little more.
Her breathing slowed.
But her hand… it rose.
Shaking.
Not in anger.
Just searching.
And for the first time, she looked at me not like an enemy…
But like someone drowning.
"…I wanted to believe he loved me," she whispered, voice cracking.
"I know," I said.
A long silence passed.
Behind me, I heard Reina sigh. Heavier this time.
"…You're both insane," she muttered, but she didn't stop us.
Yorz said nothing.
But I could feel her watching. Waiting.
The machine continued to hum behind us, slow now, like a beast on its last breath.
Saelira leaned forward, her forehead gently resting against mine.
And just for a second…
We were quiet.
Just two women at the edge of what could have been.
And then,
BOOM.
An arc of raw soul magic exploded from her chest.
My golden blade was ripped from my grip, flung across the chamber with a metallic screech as it skittered along the floor, sparks flying. I hit the ground hard, air torn from my lungs.
Saelira stood, swaying, eyes burning with new fire, wild, wounded, deranged.
"DO IT!" she shrieked. "Kill me or watch everything he built rise again! MAKE IT COUNT, HELGA!"
I pushed myself up onto one elbow, heart hammering.
Reina stepped forward in shock. "What the hell is going on,"
That's when it happened.
The softest sound.
A breath of movement.
And then,
Shhk.
Reina jerked once.
Then froze.
Her eyes widened, once, twice, and slowly, her head turned to look over her shoulder.
To the blade embedded in her back.
To the hand still gripping the hilt.
Yorz.
Her face was calm.
Unmoving.
Expression unreadable.
"…Wha…" Reina choked, blood beginning to pour down her front. "Yorz…?"
Yorz twisted the blade.
Reina collapsed. Crimson spilled across the stone floor, soaking into the cracks, steaming against the cold.
Reina, gasping.
Yorz, standing above her, pulling the blade free with one smooth motion.
"NO," I screamed, surging to my feet.
But too slow. Way too slow.
I dove for the golden greatsword lying across the floor, but Yorz moved like thunder.
One boot crashed into the weapon, kicking it away with brutal precision. It spun into the shadows, vanishing from reach.
I didn't even get to turn before I felt her boot collide with my ribs, once, twice, then her hand closed around my wrist.
Then snap.
White-hot pain erupted through my arm.
My scream echoed through the stone like a curse from the gods. She broke it.
Clean. Deliberate.
I hit the ground hard, clutching my shattered arm, eyes wide with disbelief.
Yorz stood above me now, stained blade in hand.
Her eyes were still calm. Still neutral. Still Yorz.
But the mask was off now.
"I never wanted it to be like this," she said, voice low. "But some debts… come due."
Saelira stood nearby, watching with something like stunned horror.
Even she hadn't seen this coming.
Neither had I.
Reina lay still.
Unmoving.
And the woman I once called a mentor now looked down at me like I was just one more loose end.
Reina…
I turned my head, just enough.
She wasn't moving.
Her chest was barely rising and falling
My stomach twisted. I wanted to vomit. Scream. Anything.
Instead, I just stared.
"You… bitch," I gasped.
Yorz didn't flinch.
Didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. She simply knelt beside me, wiping the blade against her already-ruined cloak.
"You were never supposed to come back," she said softly. "That was the deal."
My mouth worked uselessly. "What… deal…?"
Saelira stepped forward now, slowly, eyes still wide, caught between horror and fascination. Her lips parted like she might say something, might ask what the hell was happening.
Yorz didn't look at her.
Didn't look at anyone.
She just stared into the middle distance like the words weren't for us at all.
"I warned you," she murmured. "You left. And that meant consequences. But you came back. You started pulling threads. You brought that boy into this. You should've stayed gone, Helga."
I forced myself up to one elbow, broken arm cradled against my side. "You're working with them?"
"No," she said. "I'm working for me."
That cut deeper than any blade.
Saelira finally found her voice, rising up. "You killed her."
"She was a liability," Yorz replied, calm as winter. "And you? You're a tool. You just don't know who's holding you yet."
Saelira stepped back slightly.
I could see it now, the calculation happening behind her eyes. Even twisted as she was, even with Kael'ven's dogma rotting her thoughts, she hadn't expected this.
Not from Yorz.
"You betrayed us all," I said, each word raw, trembling.
"No," she said. "I made sure we survive. The guild. The city. You think any of this happens without sacrifice?"
I glared up at her. "You think he'll spare you? After this?"
Yorz smiled.
Just faintly.
"He already has."
And in that moment, I understood.
She hadn't just sold us out for coin.
She'd sold us out for protection.
It wasn't safe for her. It was safe for Yartar.
Yorz turned back toward me, drawing something from the folds of her cloak, a small vial, dark red, the colour of old blood in a sunlit bottle.
She held it out to Saelira.
"Take it."
Saelira didn't move.
She looked from the potion to Yorz's face, confusion beginning to twist into understanding.
"What is this?" she asked.
Yorz's voice was steady. Almost gentle. "Restoration. You'll need your strength."
"You were never with me," Saelira said, voice quieter. "You were… watching me."
Yorz didn't deny it.
"I was doing my part," she said. "Just like I promised."
My blood ran cold.
Yorz turned her gaze back to me.
"All those years ago," she said, crouching again, not to comfort, but to deliver a sentence. "When you fled the cult… when you ran with that boy…"
My stomach tightened.
Yorz's eyes didn't blink. "I was going to have you killed. Quietly. Efficiently. A few blades in the dark, and that would've been the end of it. No cult to protect you from me now."
I wanted to scream.
"But then he stopped me," she continued. "Kael'ven came to me himself. I don't know how. I don't pretend to understand his methods. He wasn't dead. Not entirely. Not yet."
My mouth was dry. My broken arm pulsed with every heartbeat.
"He said there would come a time when he'd need help returning. Said his children..." her gaze flicked to Saelira "...would be the key. But he needed insurance. A foothold in the city. In the guild. And in you."
She smiled faintly.
"I agreed. In exchange, Yartar would be left untouched. The guild would be left intact. And when the day came, I'd make sure no one interfered with his return."
Saelira took the potion with shaking fingers, still not drinking, still frozen by the weight of the truth.
"You let him live," I rasped. "All this time, you let that monster linger."
"I let the city survive," Yorz said coldly. "Do you know how many wars I've stopped in the cradle? How many kings would've burned us to ash if they knew the truth about this place?"
She stood slowly.
Turned.
Walked back toward Reina's body.
"No," I whispered, struggling to rise. "Don't,"
She didn't even hesitate.
Yorz gripped the blade in both hands, still wet, still red, and drove it back down into Reina's chest.
Thud.
The sound was wet. Final.
A twitch ran through Reina's body, a reflex. Not life.
Her eyes didn't even open.
But I screamed.
Something ripped out of me as I crawled forward, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the stone, tears I didn't remember choosing to shed burning down my face.
"STOP IT!" I shrieked.
Yorz looked over her shoulder.
"I can't," she said softly. "I made a promise."
Reina's body slumped under the weight of the blade, her blood pooling, soaking her clothes, her hair, and the floor beneath her. Her eyes remained shut. Peaceful. Still.
Too still.
Yorz stood over her, wiping her hands as though it had been a task, no different from signing a paper, closing a deal.
Like she hadn't just murdered someone who trusted her.
Saelira, for once, looked speechless. The healing potion in her hand remained untouched. Her face had drained of all colour, and for the first time, she seemed uncertain.
Yorz turned from the corpse, her voice even.
"He comes back tonight."
I froze.
"What?" I whispered.
She met my eyes. Calm. Certain.
"Kael'ven. His return was never in question. The preparations were made long ago. The siphon was just the final seal. The machine is ready. The blood is spilled. The chains are broken."
Her eyes flicked toward Saelira. "And now… we have all the pieces."
Then back to me.
"Just one left."
My stomach dropped. My breath caught.
"No."
"Yes."
Yorz stepped back into the shadows, blade low, boots silent.
"I never lied, Helga," she said. "I told you he'd be a problem."
She smiled faintly.
"And now… he'll be the key."
...
[3rd Person POV - Back in Fin's Room]
snore.
The soft, repetitive sound of someone completely dead to the world.
Fin lay sprawled on the bed, one arm across his face, the other dangling off the mattress like a lazy branch.
A faint creak passed through the wooden beams above.
He stirred. A little.
One eye barely cracked open.
"Mnnn… huh…?"
He sat up a bit, rubbed his eyes groggily, staring out at the dim moonlight coming in through the window.
"I… thought I heard…" he mumbled.
A long pause.
Then a yawn.
"…mmnah nevermind."
He flopped back onto the pillow, blanket tangled around one leg, completely oblivious to the storm crashing down just beyond his dreams.
The wind rustled outside.
And somewhere far beneath the city…
A god prepared to return.
...
End Of Chapter.
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