He moves close, scent cedar and ancient ash. His lips near my ear. “I return victorious.”
The promise vibrates between us. I nod, retreating to prepare.
Judgment dawns hours later on a deserted industrial platform: abandoned cargo gantries, metal scaffolding crystallized in early morning haze. Goh’Vak stands tall in the center, flanked by grim Nar’Vosk reapers—bone-spurred silhouettes, red eyes burning. My pulse drums low, anticipation grounded in ancient rhythm.
Aebon steps into the clearing—battle stance refined by years in steel and strategy. Bone spurs extended, eyes glowing crimson. Cold air charms the hair of both warriors, lungs filling with threat. Morning breeze whips dust and shattered neon shards between us.
I wait back, eyes hunting for momentary cracks—power surges, aura flickers. Goh’Vak’s voice echoes across the stones:“Brother fox… you built your empire on buried bones. Now you hide behind those who bow.”
Aebon breathes out slow. “I built to endure. What you sow, you burn. That’s not strength. It's rot.”
Goh’Vak laughs—ancient and hollow. “Then show me.” He raises a jagged glaive, edge humming. “Let’s see whose legacy stands.”
Steel meets protocol: they circle in silence, weapons drawn. Every movement is memory—decades of shared origins, brotherhood broken.
Aebon lunges first. Bone spurs flash like blades in sunlight. Goh’Vak blocks—raw strength and grace, their weapons sparking crystalline blasts. I feel each blow ricochet in my gut, tremor in the earth.
They trade strikes and parries—rhythms developing like a macabre ballet. Sparks flare; echoed clangs ring through steel cavern. Aebon’s voice emerges from the blur: “I rebuild. You destroy!”
Goh’Vak’s return slice presses hard. “Iamdestruction!”
The battle intensifies. Aebon feints, twisting bone-blades into a dressing wound along Goh’Vak’s shoulder. Crimson blooms. Goh’Vak roars—rage and pain mingled.
He counters with a savage swipe across Aebon’s thigh—bone-carved flesh opens, Aebon stumbles.
My fists ball. My heart roars:Get up.
Aebon grits teeth, dragging through pain, pivoting on his spur-blade to throw Goh’Vak across collapsed scaffolding beams. Steely snap echoes.
They stand, facing anew—wounds open, honor on edge.
Aebon murmurs low: “Join us, brother. Let’s end this.”
Goh’Vak laughs again, gory triumph in his eyes: “I’d rather be ashes.”
He swings wide, clasping at Aebon’s throat. Aebon ducks, sweeps under ribs, bone spurs slicing deep. Goh’Vak shrieks—Reaper howl that rattles stones.
Aebon moves in close—a final pressure with serrated bone, pinning Goh’Vak in place, weapon at his throat.
Blood drips from Goh’Vak’s spurs, steaming in cold air.
Aebon’s voice is low, edged steel. “End it, or join.”
Goh’Vak’s eyes flicker. Hatred dissolves into exhaustion. He nods once—silent concession.
Aebon steps back. Goh’Vak slumps on bent knee. Steel falls with a quietthud.
The platform is still; wind echoes across stillness.
Aebon breathes hard, hands shaking with adrenaline. I emerge, stepping forward.
He looks at me properly—blood-spattered armor, triumph brim.
Goh’Vak lies curled, watching. I taste dust and blood and rainclouds.
Aebon kneels, presses hand to Goh’Vak’s shoulder. The brother I never was.
He says quietly: “You’re done. Live it down, or die trying.” Then to me: “Aria.”
