The only sounds that filled the broken city square were their breaths. Wet gasps dragged from shattered lungs. Wheezes laced with blood and bile. They were both spent. Barely holding on. Each breath a reminder of how close the end truly was.
Geddes staggered, his body trembling as blood dripped freely from his lips. Saliva hung in strands, swaying from his jaw to the rubble below. He had never known pain like this. Not even when those boys tried to kill him, not when dragons roared in his face or when beasts of war tore at his flesh. He'd stood alone against armies, crushed monsters with his bare hands, but never, not once, had he been pushed this far.
His insides were ruined. Torn. He could feel it, feel how wrong it was, how the power Helga unleashed had gone deeper than any wound he'd ever suffered. Somewhere within, a voice whispered the truth. He wasn't going to walk away from this.
Helga knew it too. Her vision blurred. Her legs barely held. The only thing keeping her standing was grit. Pure will, fury, and the fire still smoldering in her heart. She wouldn't fall. Not while Geddes remained upright.
She turned her head, slowly, to the boy behind her.
"Elio… go," she said. "Get as far away from here as you can."
He looked like he might protest, might beg her not to say it, but he paused. He heard something in her voice. Not fear, not sorrow. Resolve. The Helga he knew had returned. He gave a quiet nod, then turned and ran, feet pounding against the stone.
Geddes spat thick blood at the ground and pushed himself upright with a groan. His spine cracked as he straightened. "Should'a known you wouldn't drop that easy," he said with a crooked grin. "I know I wouldn't."
"You're right," Helga replied.
Geddes blinked, his grin faltering slightly.
"I am you," she said softly. "And you are me."
Her eyes fell to the rubble beneath her. "Since I was little, all I've done is break things. Hurt people. Even the ones I loved. Every time I got close, they'd pull away. I scared them. Drove them off. I thought I was cursed."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his.
"But then I came to Excalibur. I found people who saw me for who I am—not just what I am. People who laughed with me. Who stayed. Who taught me that I didn't have to hide."
Geddes said nothing. His brows twitched. His gaze, for just a moment, softened.
"I'm sorry," Helga went on, the words steady. "Sorry for what the world did to you. Sorry your parents failed you. That your village hated you. That no one ever gave you a chance. I'm sorry you grew up thinking pain was all you'd ever deserve."
Her gauntlets began to hum again, softly at first, then with rising intensity.
"But that's the difference between us," she said. "I found love. I found hope. And now I've got something to fight for."
She raised her arms, blood dripping from her knuckles, her stance firm. "I can't undo your past. I can't return to you what you lost," she said. "But I'll be damned if I let you take any of it from me."
Geddes grinned. Twisted. Broken. Blood-slicked teeth bared beneath wild eyes. "When you put it like that…" His pupils shrank to pinpricks. "I'm gonna love ripping everything you care about to pieces, little bird."
Helga bared her teeth. Fury carved into every line of her bloodied face. Her gauntlets sparked, her muscles coiled.
"Then come and get it!" she roared.
The ground erupted beneath her as she launched forward like a cannonball, stone splitting in her wake. Geddes answered her cry with one of his own, his massive frame crashing forward, each footfall fracturing the earth beneath him. Their fists drew back. They collided in the center of the square with a thunderous boom that split the air.
A shockwave blasted outward, ripping through the debris-strewn square. Windows shattered. Dust and stone exploded skyward.
Then another clash—fist against fist. Then another. Over and over, a whirlwind of fists, a savage storm of raw fury. Flesh slammed against flesh. Metal howled against steel. Blood sprayed in arcs with each devastating impact. Their cries of rage and defiance echoed through the ruins.
Geddes surged forward with a snarl, his gauntlet crashing into Helga's side. She gasped, blood spurting from her lips, but she twisted beneath his arm, dropped low, and drove her fist into his gut. He doubled over, spitting blood, just as her next strike slammed into his cheek with a brutal crack. His head snapped sideways.
She planted her feet and spun. Her heel crashing into his jaw with the force of a battering ram. Geddes was hurled back, smashing through a twisted bench of metal and wood, the wreckage exploding beneath his weight.
He barely had time to register the pain before Helga was on him again. Relentless, wild, a storm in human form. Her fists came down like hammers. Geddes brought his arms up to block, but even his gauntlets screamed in protest. Sparks flew with every strike, the indentations of her knuckles sinking into the steel. His feet dragged backward, the ground crumbling beneath him as the sheer force of her blows overwhelmed him.
With a guttural roar, Geddes threw his arms wide, blasting her back just long enough to surge forward. He caught her mid-charge, wrapping thick arms around her waist in a crushing bear hug. Bones cracked. Helga let out a cry as her spine was compressed in his iron grip.
But she didn't flinch. Her eyes met his—amber fire to bloodshot rage.
Then she struck.
Her fist drove into his jaw with meteoric force. His body jolted. The next blow crashed into his temple, snapping his head to the side. The third crumpled him, sending his colossal frame slamming into the stone.
He hit the ground hard.
Helga dropped, rolled, and turned. Just in time to see him shift, trying to rise.
She didn't give him the chance.
She spun and kicked—a savage, bone-rattling blow that cracked across his face. Blood sprayed. His jaw twisted grotesquely. His body flew through the air, limbs limp, crashing into the ruined remains of the fountain. The same place she'd lain broken moments before.
The stones shattered beneath him as he fell into the crater.
This time, Geddes didn't rise right away. He twitched, a groan escaping his bloodied mouth as his hand slammed down against the shattered stone for support. Blood poured freely from his split lips. Chipped teeth spilled out like crushed porcelain, scattering across the ground. Slowly, he dragged himself upright, legs trembling beneath the weight of his broken frame.
Helga stood across from him, gauntlets faintly sparking, chest heaving with each breath. "Had enough?" she asked coldly. "Or do I have to knock out the rest of your pearly whites? If food tastes like ash now—wait till you can't even chew it."
With a growl, she surged forward, fist drawn back, only for Geddes to snap forward with surprising speed. He caught her arm mid-swing.
"Got plenty of fight left for you, little bird," he snarled. Then, with a sharp twist and brutal jerk, he dislocated her shoulder with a sickening pop.
Helga screamed, the sound tearing from her throat. Before she could react, he yanked her arm again, snapping it further before hurling her across the square.
Her body tumbled, bouncing off the stone like a ragdoll. Geddes charged. His fist arced downward, intent on crushing her.
But Helga moved.
Despite the agony burning through her body, she planted her feet, slid to the side, and raised her dislocated shoulder to parry his strike. Geddes' eyes went wide with shock.
Helga twisted into the momentum, her other arm dangling uselessly, as she drew back her unbroken fist. She poured every ounce of fury, pain, and strength into the blow—and unleashed it. The punch landed with the sound of a thunderclap. Geddes' face contorted as his nose shattered, blood bursting forth in a crimson wave. His body reeled backward, stumbling with wild, staggered steps.
Helga didn't blink.
Eyes locked on his, she grabbed her dislocated arm, clenched her jaw, and with one brutal wrench, shoved it back into place. A cry escaped her lips. She wasn't done. She turned her attention to the fractured joint, bent it back into place with a grimace and another strangled yell. Her chest heaved. Sweat and blood coated her brow.
But her stance held steady.
Rolling her shoulder once, then twice, she flexed her fingers and raised both fists.
"Thing about us Jötnar," she said, "Magic doesn't work on us. No healing spells. No fancy tricks." She cracked her knuckles. "But we heal a hell of a lot faster than anyone else."
****
The city square thundered with chaos, every blow a war drum, every step a shattering of stone. Helga and Geddes collided with the fury of titans—her gauntlets crashed into his jaw, his knee buried itself into her ribs. Again and again, they exchanged devastation, each hit laced with years of pain, rage, and defiance. Two beasts. Two monsters. Two gods tearing the world apart, neither willing to yield, neither able to stop.
Geddes slammed into a stone wall, the impact cratering it with a crunch of fractured masonry. He growled, blood dripping from split lips, his bloodshot eyes glowing with hate. Helga came roaring back, fist drawn, and drove it into his cheek. He countered with a punch of his own, snapping her head sideways and hurling her into the earth. Dust plumed, but she rolled to her feet—no hesitation, no fear—and launched herself back into the fray.
Geddes couldn't accept this. Wouldn't. Not from her. Not from a woman. Not from a filthy, sniveling, bleeding little girl who not only matched him blow for blow but was beginning to outpace him. It wasn't just her fists that haunted him—it was her story. The mirror she held up. A cursed child, born with strength no child should wield. But while his village cast him out, hers had drawn her close. And that… that he could never forgive.
"Helga Hufflepuff!" Geddes roared. "I'll never accept you! I'll never bow to you! I'll never acknowledge you!"
His fist crashed into her face. He grabbed her by the collar and pounded her skull again and again, blood spattering like rain. "You're like me! You're a monster! A freak! They should hate you. They should fear you. Reject you!"
With a howl, he lifted her and slammed her into the ground hard enough to split the earth beneath. "And yet you've got everything! Friends! Family! A life!" he howled, shaking with rage. "Why?!"
He flung her into the air, then kicked her mid-flight. "Why?!"
But Helga flipped in the air, landed hard, and charged. Her knee crushed into his throat, snapping his breath short. She grabbed him by the neck and headbutted him square in the face. The sickening crack rang out louder than any curse.
"You wanna know why?!" she snarled, fists raining down with fury. "Because you gave up!" She struck again. "You let the world break you!" Another blow. "You let it tell you what you were—and you believed it!"
She drew back, twisting into a brutal uppercut. "You didn't fight to live. You fought to make everyone else miserable! You didn't want peace. You wanted to see the world burn like you did."
Geddes reeled. Blood streamed from his mouth. His limbs trembled.
"And me?" Her voice rose with the final blow, her arms raised and brought down like a hammer. "I'll never be like you!"
The crushing impact dropped him. He buckled to his knees, his eyes wide and dazed, teeth red with blood. Helga didn't hesitate. She twisted her stance, brought her fist up with a roar, and uppercut him under the chin. The ground cracked beneath her feet. Geddes lifted off the ground like a felled giant, then slammed down hard, skidding across the stones before coming to a broken, breathless stop at the fountain's shattered remains.
Helga stood still for a moment, shoulders rising and falling with each raw, ragged breath. Blood trickled down her face, mingling with sweat and grit. She wiped her lip, amber eyes burning as they locked onto the wreckage of the man who had nearly ended her.
"You, Astrea, Burgess… Norsefire," she said. "You're all the same. You don't seek power to protect, or to make things better. You use it to crush, to destroy, simply because you can. Because the world lets you. You justify it. Blame your pain, your past. But in the end, none of that matters."
Her fists clenched. "What matters is choice. And you made yours. You chose to become this. You chose to hurt people. Just like Astrea did."
From the rubble, a broken laugh rose, strained and bitter. Geddes pushed himself upright, coughing blood as he leaned against a crumbled slab. His smirk was twisted, hollow.
"Yeah… I s'pose I did," he rasped. "Could've turned out different, right? Could've pulled meself outta the muck. Been better. But I didn't want that."
He stood, barely, swaying as his legs threatened to give. "I wanted 'em to see. To feel what I felt. The pain. The hate. The bloody silence that came after the scream. I wanted to spit it back in their faces and show 'em they ain't special. That none of us are."
His smirk withered into something darker.
"This world ain't worth saving, little bird. It ain't noble. It's rot. It deserves Burgess. Deserves Astrea. Deserves me. And the lot of you, thinking you're better than the rest… you'll learn that in time. Or you'll die before you do."
Geddes staggered forward, each step dragging like broken iron across stone. Blood clung to his teeth as he forced a breath, his ribs heaving with effort.
"But it's like you said, innit?" he growled. "None of it matters. The old man's plans. This piss-soaked city. That bloody school with all its stuck-up brats. Means jack all to me."
He spat a thick stream of blood onto the ground, the red stark against the broken stone. "What I want. What burns in my gut, what keeps me standin', is to watch everythin' you love torn to pieces. Your friends. Your family. Everythin' that gives you hope, that makes you think you're better than me."
He took another limping step, his bloodshot eyes locked on her, madness simmering beneath them.
"So long as I'm breathin', I'll keep comin'. Again and again. I'll pluck your pretty little feathers one by one—'til there's nothin' left but bone and regret. And then, when you're lyin' in the dirt, starin' up at the ruin of it all, you'll see what I've always known…"
A sick grin twisted his bruised face.
"You were always meant to end up just like me."
Helga stood in silence, letting the stillness settle over the fractured square like a final breath. Slowly, she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small, worn bracelet. Her gaze fell upon it—frayed threads, faded colors, and the weight of memories pressed into its weave. It rested against the battered steel of her gauntlet, delicate and out of place amid the ruins.
She looked up, her eyes locking with Geddes. "You know… Astrea said those exact words to me. Right before I put her head through a mirror." A beat passed. "I was drowning in rage. Just like you. I wanted her to suffer. And I made sure she did."
Her grip on the bracelet tightened. "But after… I caught my reflection. Bloodied. Hollow. Something in me cracked." Her tone wavered, but her gaze did not. "I saw what I was becoming. What I could become. And it terrified me."
Her amber eyes flicked down to the bracelet—then, gently, she tucked it back into her pocket. "Then I saw you. And I understood that it's not just a possibility, but certainty. You've done terrible things, Geddes. Unspeakable things. Things I should hate you for." Her jaw tensed. "The way I hated Astrea."
"But right here, right now… I don't."
Geddes blinked. His jaw twitched. Something flickered behind his bloodshot eyes.
"In fact, I feel sorry for you."
Her words landed like a hammer.
"You'll never know love. Only hatred that rots you from the inside out," Helga said quietly. "You'll never know the warmth of friendship, only the cold ache of being truly alone."
She took a slow breath. "You'll never know peace. Just chaos. The kind you create to drown out the silence." Her gaze locked with his. "But most of all… you'll never know what it's like to be me."
Geddes stood motionless, the weight of her words sinking in like stone. His lip quivered, almost imperceptibly. The blood clinging to his skin had gone cold, no longer the badge of battle, but a reminder of something hollow—something lost.
"And that's what cuts the deepest, isn't it? Deeper than what those girls did to you. Deeper than your mother's betrayal. Deeper than any blow I've landed." Her expression softened. "Because no matter what you destroy, no matter how much blood you spill—you'll always be empty. This is all you are, Geddes. And all you'll ever be."
The world fell into a dead, frozen silence. Minutes dragged like hours as Geddes stood trembling, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a miracle it hadn't shattered. Then, a choked sob broke loose—raw, ragged, and unfamiliar on his tongue. For the first time in years, tears carved pale tracks through the blood and grime on his face.
A howl burst from his throat, guttural and soaked in fury and despair. He slammed his fists into the ground again and again, each strike spiderwebbing the stone beneath him, a tantrum of a beast with nothing left to lose.
His eyes snapped back to Helga, wild and unhinged. With a roar, he surged forward, hatred pouring off him like heat. Helga's expression shifted as she met his charge. Earth split beneath them as they closed the distance, fists drawn back like thunderbolts.
They struck.
Her gauntlet met his right hand. His metal cracked first. Then splintered. Then exploded. Flesh met steel, and it was his body that gave way. Bones twisted. Fingers snapped like brittle twigs. His arm caved inward with a crunch so loud it echoed off the buildings. Blood splattered in an arc as Geddes stumbled back, clutching his ruined limb, gasping for breath through clenched teeth.
His eyes burned as he looked up, snarling through the pain. "I'll kill you, little bird!" he bellowed. "I'll crush you with what's left o' me. I'll paint this city with your insides and make 'em scrape what's left off the bloody pavement!" He drove his fist down, but Helga sidestepped, the stone floor shattering beneath his blow. "Then I'll find yer friends… one by one… and tear 'em to pieces!"
Helga pulled the dark sash from around her waist. With a single motion, it shifted, lengthening into a long, blackened chain. She spun it once and lashed out—wrapping it tight around Geddes' chest and arms. He froze mid-swing, inches from her face, bound like a beast at slaughter. He struggled violently, veins bulging, teeth bared.
"Don't bother," Helga growled, holding the chain taut. "This is Gleipnir—a fragment of the chain that bound Fenrir until Ragnarök. Passed down through my family. I couldn't break it if I tried, and you sure as hell won't."
Geddes screamed, clawing, snarling, trying to tear his way free.
Helga stepped in close. "I'm only going to say this once. You or anyone like you—you can come after my friends, my family. But know this: they won't cower. They won't bend. And they sure as hell won't break. They'll fight with every last breath in their lungs, and if they fall, they'll drag you down with them."
Her eyes narrowed into a deadly gleam. "And if they don't survive… I will. And I will make damn sure you wish you hadn't."
Helga gritted her teeth and pulled harder on the chains. The links groaned as they tightened, constricting Geddes' massive frame until he could barely breathe.
"Defend the weak. Protect both young and old. Never abandon your friends. Give justice to all. Be fearless in battle, and always stand for what's right." Her words rang out like a battle hymn. Her eyes locked with his. "That's the creed of the Badger Guard. Pop-Pop drilled it into me since I could speak," she said. "You used your strength to destroy, Geddes. But mine… mine is to protect. To save. To be more than a monster. To be more than a weapon. To be a symbol of hope."
She coiled the chain around her forearms, muscles flexing, stance wide. "And I will protect them. My friends. My school. This city. From you—and from anyone else who threatens what we've built. Even if it costs me my last breath."
With a cry, she yanked the chain over her shoulder. Geddes was ripped off the ground, his massive frame swinging like a war hammer through the air. She spun, faster and faster, the chain extending, wrapping the square in whirling steel and momentum. With a snarl, she hurled him across the plaza. He slammed through the buildings, carving a path of ruin through stone and timber.
She didn't stop. The chain lashed again, flinging him skyward.
Helga launched after him, boots cracking the earth as she leapt. Higher and higher, scaling the spiraling links of the chain like a jagged staircase. She surged past him, the wind screaming past her ears. For a split second, they met in mid-air—his eyes bloodshot, her expression carved from steel.
Then Helga twisted. The chain snapped tight. Geddes was yanked downward like a meteor wrenched from the heavens.
And he fell.
The moment he hit the ground, the city square exploded.
Stone fractured. Earth buckled. The remnants of the fountain were vaporized beneath the impact. Dust and debris blasted into the air in a deafening roar.
Geddes' body was still airborne, ricocheting from the devastating blow. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his torso snapped backward, limbs flailing uselessly. His eyes rolled into his skull.
Then Helga landed. Stone shattering beneath her boots, cracks spidering out across the ruined square. She stood tall, gauntlets smoking, her gaze locked on his broken form mid-air.
"Geddes," she called. "You've spent your whole life proving them right… That you were nothing but a curse on this world. Every choice, every cruelty—it's led you here."
She widened her stance. Her gauntlets shifted, grinding and locking into a new form, larger, more refined—glowing with molten veins of amber light. Flames licked across the surface.
She lifted her hand. A golden light traced down her arm, nine sparks aligning like stars. "To a girl. A monster. A friend. A warrior. One who carries the weight of the world."
Through Geddes' fractured vision, he saw them. Shapes taking form in the haze. Dozens of transparent silhouettes. People. Their hands resting on each other's shoulders, forming a chain that extended behind Helga. And at the end, closest to her, stood two figures—a man and a woman. Smiling. Their hands placed gently on her shoulders.
"I carry their hopes. Their dreams. Their pain." Her words trembled with fury and love. "And if the world wants to knock me down, I'll get up. Again and again. And I'll hit back just as hard."
She clenched her glowing fist, the fire intensifying as she drew it back. "With a power that transcends the Nine Realms… this is who I am!"
Her gauntlet flared to life, erupting in a blaze of golden flame. She twisted with the motion, muscles coiled, teeth clenched. The fire surged around her, rising higher, reshaping itself into the form of a massive, ethereal badger—its claws outstretched, fangs bared, wild and furious. The spirit beast roared as it enveloped her.
"Yggdrasil—"
Her punch connected. The moment it struck Geddes' chest, the space between them ignited in a violent flash. Flames exploded outward, consuming his torso. The impact cracked the air like thunder.
"SMAAAAASH!"
A shockwave blasted across the square, hurling stone and dust in every direction. Geddes' body was launched like a cannonball, crashing through a row of buildings, each one collapsing in his wake. His frame twisted violently, limbs flailing as he soared through the sky.
He tore through the clouds, each one bursting apart in his path—until his body vanished into the horizon. A speck swallowed by the sky.
And then… silence.
****
The underground chamber trembled violently, the walls groaning under the weight of the tremor. Dust rained from the ceiling as frightened civilians huddled together, their cries sharp and panicked, echoing through the stone corridor.
AEGIS guards drew their blades in unison, the ring of steel cutting through the chaos. Eyes darted upward, scanning the cracked stone ceiling above for signs of collapse.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the shaking stopped.
Langston stumbled, catching himself against the wall. His brow furrowed as he looked up, watching the last grains of dust drift through the air.
"What in the name of the Old Gods was that?" he muttered. "An explosion?"
****
The entire castle shuddered violently. Ryan grabbed hold of Serfence to steady himself as the Observatory trembled. Workner barely managed to stay upright, bracing against one of the stone columns.
"Jesus Christ," Ryan muttered, eyes wide. "What the hell was that—"
He stopped short, catching sight of something blazing across the sky, a streak of light that vanished beyond the horizon.
"Um…"
"'Um,' indeed," Serfence said flatly, glancing down at Ryan, who was still gripping the front of his robes. "If you wouldn't mind?"
Ryan blinked, quickly releasing him. "Right. Sorry."
"That was no natural tremor," Workner said, adjusting his glasses, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. "And whatever it was… it packed a hell of a punch."
"Well," Ryan said, exhaling slowly, "let's hope it was on our side."
Serfence's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the cityscape. "One can only hope."
Workner leaned forward over the balustrade, squinting toward the city below. His eyes caught movement—dark shapes advancing in formation toward the castle gates. A platoon of Norsefire soldiers, clad head-to-toe in black, marched with mechanical precision. At their head strode a solitary figure, steps long, his presence unmistakable.
Wordlessly, Workner unfurled his spyglass, adjusted the lens, and brought the image into focus. His expression darkened at once. With a snap, the spyglass collapsed shut in his hands.
"Don't look now," he muttered, "but it seems our guest of honor's finally arrived."
Serfence stepped up beside him, eyes narrowing. "Burgess…"
Ryan joined them, his gaze fixed on the approaching soldiers. He gave a dry chuckle, producing a cigarette from his jacket and striking it to life. "That's a whole lotta rats for one snake," he said, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Well… guess it's showtime."
Workner glanced at Serfence, who gave a curt nod, already adjusting his robes.
"No point in putting it off," Serfence said coolly. "Let's roll out the red carpet for the bastard, shall we?"
With no more words exchanged, the three turned and moved toward the door with steady purpose. Whatever waited for them beyond the walls. Whatever plans Burgess had brought with him, they had faced worse. And if this was to be the final stand, then they would face it as they always had.
Together. For Excalibur.
****
Helga hunched forward, her entire body trembling as blood traced slow lines down her brow, over her cheekbones, and along her jaw. Her gauntlets, once blazing with energy, dimmed to a faint flicker. With a hiss of venting steam, gears groaned and metal plates shifted, folding inward with a mechanical grind until only two scorched bracelets remained around her wrists.
Her breath came in ragged pulls, each one heavier than the last. Her vision wavered, but a weary, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"By Bacchus' butterbeer…" she whispered. "I could go for a pint. Or eight." She paused, her head dipping slightly. "And… some cake."
The blood reached her fingertips now, dripping steadily to the broken stone beneath her. Her strength faltered at last. She swayed, then let herself fall back, landing with a dull thud against the fractured ground. Her limbs went slack. Her eyelids drooped.
"Pablo… Edda…" she murmured, the words slipping from her tongue like a fading memory. "I… I did it…"
Her sight swam in shadow, but through the haze she heard her name—sharp, panicked. A child's voice. Familiar.
Elio.
She tried to lift her head, but all she could make out was a blurred figure rushing toward her, his lips moving in desperation. She wanted to speak again, to reach out.
But then, the darkness swallowed everything.
****
The flames that had once engulfed the encampment had dwindled to a faint simmer, the oppressive heat giving way to the crisp bite of the mountain air. Smoke still curled into the sky. No longer black, but a rising stream of pale white. Blaise sat upon a scorched boulder, staff in hand, his frame hunched as his sapphire gaze swept the ravaged landscape.
The cannons were no more. Melted slag now, their twisted steel glowing like the remnants of some dying star. As for the soldiers, there were no bodies. Only ash. Dust. Scattered by the wind. It was victory. Caerleon was safe. Excalibur still stood. And yet, Blaise's heart hung heavy in his chest. His grip around the staff tightened, knuckles paling as he exhaled through clenched teeth.
He had made a promise.
That the man he once was. The wraith in the dark, the executioner of kingdoms, would never rise again. That the moniker which once struck terror into empires would be buried with the ghosts of his past. But here he stood once more, surrounded by ruin, by fire, by silence. The silence he used to leave in his wake.
And that, more than the battle, more than the flames, was why his hatred for Burgess burned fiercer than any conjured fire. Because the bastard had dragged him back. Had forced him to become the very thing he had sworn never to be again.
Blaise shook his head and slowly stood, leaning heavily on his staff. His back cracked as he straightened, a tired grimace tugging at his face.
"Oh, dear," he muttered, half to himself. "I fear the years haven't been as generous as I liked to imagine." A small chuckle followed as he slipped his glasses back on. "Perhaps another sabbatical is in order. Bermuda sounds positively divine this time of year."
The ground suddenly erupted not far from where he stood. Dirt, soot, and scorched debris thrown skyward in a violent plume. Blaise stumbled back a step, robes swaying, eyes narrowing at the crater's edge. Slowly, warily, he approached.
And there, amid the ruined soil, lay a hulking man. Unconscious, barely breathing. His bloodied frame was battered, broken, but still intact.
Blaise stared down at the figure for a long moment, lips parting as if to speak. But all that came was a quiet, knowing sigh. He shook his head and let out a soft, incredulous chuckle.
"Gods above… even at my age, life still manages to throw in the odd surprise."