The dawn came slowly—bleeding red across the ruined skyline of Thalorin.
Smoke curled through the broken streets. Debris littered the ground where buildings once stood tall. The scent of ash, blood, and scorched stone clung to the air. And amid the silence that followed the battle, Sarive stood alone atop a crumbled archway, his armor cracked, his knuckles bruised, his breath shallow.
Below him, his team tended to the wounded. Diana stitched a gash across Kael's side while Mia cradled Hope against her chest, humming a quiet lullaby to soothe the girl's trembling form. Jorin helped clear rubble where fallen enemies still smoldered.
The demons were gone—for now. And the three celestial hunters had vanished into the night, not defeated, but stalled.
They would return. Stronger. Angrier. Smarter.
Sarive clenched his fists. "We need to move."
An hour later, in the shelter of a hidden stone chapel deep beneath the city, the team regrouped. Their reflections flickered in the shattered stained glass. The flames of Mia's torch cast long, haunted shadows.
"We can't stay here," Jorin said, his voice low. "The hunters—what they brought tonight was just a taste."
"They were testing us," Diana added. "Measuring our strength. They'll be back with more."
Sarive nodded, his jaw tight. "Then we move toward the Shadow Vale. We'll lose them in the canyons and cross into the sanctuary network Mia mentioned."
Talia frowned. "And what if we're tracked again?"
"We won't be," Mia said. "Not this time. I know where they'll be looking."
She knelt before Hope and brushed back her hair. "I'll carry you, little star. Don't be afraid."
Hope looked up at her with ancient eyes. "They're afraid of me."
Mia froze. Sarive stepped closer. "What do you mean, Hope?"
The girl touched his hand.
And in that moment, Sarive saw flashes—not of the past, but of possibilities. A future scorched by celestial fire. Realities unraveling like threads. God after god falling before a force they could not name… all bound to the small child now looking up at him with wide, glowing eyes.
"I didn't ask to be born," she whispered.
That night, as they moved quietly through the forest toward the edge of the Vale, Sarive lingered near the rear. Diana fell into step beside him, brushing dust from her pauldrons.
"You alright?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. But I'll pretend I am."
She nudged him. "That's what leaders do."
Sarive didn't answer. His eyes flicked to Mia, who carried Hope like a soldier bearing a crown. His feelings—complicated, unspoken—tugged at him more than ever.
He'd only just met her. But there was something there. Something real.
And yet… he had known Diana for years. Trusted her with his life. They understood each other in a way few could.
He exhaled sharply. "I'm not ready for this."
"For what?" Diana asked.
"Any of it."
Far behind them, beyond forest and fire, the God of War stood alone in the ruins of the battlefield. His blade was soaked in demon blood.
He narrowed his eyes toward the horizon.
"The child lives," he said to the wind.
Beside him, a shadow peeled away from a ruined column—the First Hunter, cloaked in celestial darkness.
"She is growing stronger."
The God of War grinned.
"Good. Let the storm rise."