Nyx's rebels struck at dawn, their Seed-forged blades glinting like fractured stars. The cathedral's gilded thorns recoiled as they advanced, the weapons' resonance destabilizing Older Kael's control. From his throne of vines, he felt every tremor—a symphony of betrayal.
"They fear you," the Seed purred. "Show them why."
He resisted, thorns curling defensively instead of striking. But Nyx's dagger found its mark, plunging into a hybrid guard. The rebel's roar shook the cathedral: "For Lira! For freedom!"
In the infirmary, Young Lira's body arched off the cot. Her scream split the air as a new Seed erupted from her chest—obsidian and gold, its roots fusing with the cathedral's bones. Lyra's ghost materialized, her form now solid, eyes blazing with the merged fury of a thousand timelines.
"Rise," she commanded.
The walls cracked. Realities bled together: burning villages overlapped with sterile labs, phantom armies clashed in the aisles. A chrono-storm raged, devouring rebels and hybrids alike.
Young Kael stumbled through the chaos, his mutated arm shielding him from debris. Lyra's ghost appeared, her hand icy on his claw. "He'll kill her," she whispered, nodding to Young Lira. "Unless you kill him first."
He recoiled. "I'm not your puppet."
"No," she laughed. "You're his."
A thorn speared toward him—blocked by Older Kael's sudden grip. "Run! The Seed in Lira—it's merging everything!"
Young Kael shoved him. "You did this!"
Their blades clashed, gold against cobalt, each strike splintering time further. The storm intensified, erasing the cathedral, the rebels, the sky.
Lyra ascended above the maelstrom, the new Seed orbiting her like a black sun. "Pathetic," she hissed. "You fight for crumbs while I feast on eternity!"
Nyx lunged, Seed-dagger aimed at her heart. Lyra flicked her wrist, and Nyx disintegrated mid-leap, her scream echoing across dead timelines.
"Stop!" Older Kael's thorns ensnared Lyra, but she unraveled them, her power dwarfing the Seed's.
"You're obsolete, Guardian. This world is mine.*"
Young Lira's body floated toward Lyra, the new Seed merging with her ghost. The storm stilled. Reality condensed into a single, suffocating truth: Lyra, omnipotent and merciless, her wings eclipsing the stars.
Older Kael crumpled, the Seed's voice now a plea: "Save us."
He knew how.
Gripping the Seed shard, he channeled every stolen memory—Lira's laugh, his mother's sacrifice, Lyra's first breath. Light erupted, scouring his flesh, unraveling his existence thread by thread.
"No!" Young Kael screamed.
Lyra's triumph faltered as the timelines recoiled. "What are you doing?"
"Ending the cycle," Older Kael whispered.
He dissolved—into light, into ash, into nothing—erasing every trace of the Seed's corruption. The storm collapsed. Lyra's scream followed him into the void: "You can't abandon me again!"