Each man nodded in agreement, their face full of grief, but hope shone brightly beneath it.
Except for one.
Kratos.
He stepped forward, shaking, furious, eyes burning with a wildfire devotion that terrified and warmed me at once.
I was aware he had difficulty with this. His struggles had split our Faction, leading to numerous internal conflicts. Still, I had hoped...
“No,” he shook his head. “You will not die.”
I touched his cheek. “Kratos—my love?—”
He grabbed my wrist with trembling hands. “I won’t lose you. Not for prophecy. Not to the realm. I WON’T!”
He kissed my palm—desperate, shaking.
I reached for him. “I need you to stand with me?—”
“No,” he whispered. “I will stand AGAINST the Ancestors.”
An ability I didn’t know he had, one forbidden to use, surged at his fingertips.
“Kratos, STOP?—”
“Let them take the realm,” his voice was cracking. “Let the world burn. Let all of Aurathia become powerless. I won’t let them take you from me.”
And then?—
He let his ability free.
The air shattered like glass.
I screamed.
My Faction screamed.
The bond, once pure and golden, warped into something monstrous and jagged. I felt five hearts seize in unison.
One died instantly.
Two fell broken.
Two crawled toward me before their marks flickered—flickered—faded?—
“No—NO, NO KRATOS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?—”
He collapsed to his knees, sobbing. “I saved you.”
“I didn’t need saving,” I whispered. “I needed you with me.”
The realm trembled. The Ancestors were furious. The dark seed of corruption had seeded itself in the wound he had opened.
I felt my own soul crack.
And as I knelt with my dying Faction, I touched Kratos’s face one last time.
“Beloved,” I whispered, “your love was never the realm’s enemy. But your fear destroyed everything.”
