He turned without meaning to.
Stepped forward.
His heart screamed to stop.
But his body moved anyway.
He wanted to cry out, to drag the blade from his hand, to hurl himself into the fire just to keep it from reaching her, but it was too late.
He was walking toward Maris.
You may not remember but you offered up a prayer to me once. You begged to be made worth of the Veil Breaker.Eiren seethedNow you will get you answer.
A tear streaked down his cheek as his body walked through the chaos.
Through the light.
And she . . .
She was radiant.
Crowned in burning bone, her hair lifted by divine wind, her blade pulsing with the power of gods. She stood above Eiren, defiant and unstoppable.
He wept inside at the sight of her.
“You are everything,” he wanted to say.
But no words passed his lips.
His hands did not shake.
They held the sword steady, faelight glinting down the edge.
He begged silently, for Eiren to stop, for his body to resist, for anything,
But she had taken too much.
Too easily.
Because somewhere in him, the vow to kill Kael still existed.
A promise. A seed of vengeance. Ancient, bitter, whispered under moonlight years ago.
And Eiren had watered it. Let it bloom.
He was the weapon now.
He was the knife she’d saved for the final hour.
And he couldn’t stop it.
He was near her now. Near Maris.
He saw her smile as she stood over Eiren, glorious and righteous, her blade raised high. She was winning. She was everything the world needed.
He had never been so proud.
Or so ruined.
