The crater still steamed with the echo of battle.
Blood soaked the earth like offerings to a forgotten god. Selena lay unmoving, her chest barely rising, her wings reduced to broken shadows. Beside her, Dante knelt in silence. His flame flickered weakly, the embers of a once-roaring blaze now struggling to stay alive. His hands trembled as he cupped her face, brushing away the soot and blood with a tenderness the world no longer deserved.
She stirred.
Just barely.
"Selena," he whispered, voice cracked with grief and fury. "Don't fade."
Her eyes opened—silver galaxies dulled with pain. "We're... alive?"
He nodded, though he wasn't sure if it was truth or denial. "Barely."
Cassius stumbled toward them, broken and bloodied, his blade dragging behind him like a weight of regret. "He's gone," he said. "But not dead. Not really."
Dante looked to the sky.
Still cracked.
Still bleeding.
