The flicker of the portal bled black ichor into the stone floor as Aron and Selene stumbled through it, gasping for breath and clutching their wounds. The once-regal twins now bore the marks of a hard-fought retreat—their robes were torn, their flesh scorched and bloodied from the Ice Jade Princess's freezing wrath and the Fleeting Spear's relentless onslaught.
The obsidian pillars of the Black Citadel loomed like ancient sentinels in the shadowy throne chamber, where Endless awaited atop a seat carved from the fossilized remains of dead gods that were found in the Labyrinth. The Eternal's form was no longer bound to a singular shape. He hovered—part mist, part flame, part writhing void. He now has a thousand eyes which blinked in and out of existence across his shifting silhouette, and his presence felt like the silence before a calamity.
Aron dropped to one knee, still heaving. Selene followed, her silver lashes damp with sweat and humiliation. They did not speak first.
