The Citadel of Valor lit up the moment I stepped inside. A violent pulse. A shudder of recognition. Acolytes in gold-threaded robes froze mid-prayer. Silver-armored Justicars snapped to attention. The sons of Valor stiffened, hands drifting toward their blades. Aerion's realm had always been a masquerade. Towering marble spires etched with oaths of honor, banners of crimson and gold snapping in the wind, words like truth, duty, glory carved into every surface. But I'd always known the truth. The streets were too clean. The silence too rehearsed. Soldiers too precise, too obedient, their faces blank masks waiting for orders. This wasn't a sanctuary. It was a cage. Tonight, I was tearing the cage apart.
Chaos detonated from me in a violent wave. Stone cracked. Metal warped. The marble saints of Aerion went flying, heads sheared clean off their shoulders. Banners of justice caught fire midair, gold thread burning into ash. The ground itself screamed under my boots as every holy ward buckled and curdled in my wake. Acolytes rushed forward, prayers spilling from their lips in panicked unison.
"Stop! You cannot enter—"
I snapped my fingers. The monk folded inward like parchment in a storm, collapsing into himself with a wet crack before bursting in blood and divine light. Screams erupted. A dozen more charged. Sons of Valor. Warriors of justice. Their blades etched with Aerion's decrees. They died screaming. My chaos swallowed them.
One dissolved into tar mid-stride, armor sizzling as it sank into his bones. Another's steel fused molten to his flesh until he toppled in a glowing heap. A third was dragged upward by invisible strings, body stretched long and thin until he snapped apart like rope in a storm. One begged. I laughed and turned him inside out.
I didn't walk around bodies. I walked through them. Bone and blood clung to my boots, parchment of holy vows fluttering in tatters at my feet. Aerion's name, carved into the stone itself, began to bleed, letters warping into nonsense as my presence blasphemed their sanctity. Arrows rained from the walls. I froze them midair, every shaft glittering like glass, then hurled them back in a storm of jagged shards. They sliced through silver armor like silk. Blood sprayed white walls. Screams became sobs. Prayers fractured into silence.
"WHERE IS HE?!" My roar split the sky. Lightning forked downward, the heavens themselves flinching from me.
A priest, old, too old, stumbled from the smoke, staff cracked in two. He raised his hands like they might matter. "Malvor. Please. This is madness."
My eyes narrowed. "You remember me?"
"Yes," his voice trembled. "You were there when this temple was raised. You protected it once—"
"I did not protect him." My voice was razors. "I tolerated him."
His lips quivered. "Chaos doesn't have to destroy what order built. Think. This is not the—"
I sealed his mouth shut with a flick of my wrist. His eyes bulged, horror dawning as I stepped close and pressed my palm flat against his chest. "Then pray," I whispered, "to whatever power will still listen."
He turned to crystal. Frozen mid-scream. A second later, he shattered. I stepped through his shards. The bronze gates exploded before my shoulder. Guards came. Guards died. Altars crumbled, relics cracked, paintings turned to ash, scrolls blackened at my passing. Aerion's sacred trophies bled golden ichor, his temple groaning as if even the stone wanted to flee me.
I reached it. The throne room. Grand. Glorious. Empty. No Aerion. No Annie. Just silence. I stood there in the wreckage, chest heaving. My eyes still burned, but the fire hollowed as it smoldered, leaving me raw. My heart beat slow, too slow, echoing like a drum in a cavern.
I had burned his temple down to the bones. I had torn his world apart. It had given me nothing.
Where was she? Where was the only thing I couldn't protect? The silence pressed in. My rage faltered. Just for a breath. Just for a heartbeat. In that stillness, I realized, This wasn't victory. It was failure.
A slow, echoing clap broke the silence.
"You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
I turned and there he was. Orion.
Aerion's son. His shadow, his heir, his echo. But not quite him. His hair darker, streaked with steel. Eyes lined from years, not magic. His father's sigil gleamed over his heart, etched into armor scarred from real battles, not temple pageantry. His sword pulsed at his side with borrowed authority. "You've made your point," he said. "You always do. But this" He gestured at the wreckage. "this is madness."
I laughed, bitter. "Orion. Named after your father, weren't you? I'd laugh if it didn't make me want to throw up."
"You're trespassing in a sacred place. Desecrating the seat of Justice."
"Justice?" Chaos curled around my heels. "Your father desecrated it first. He took her. He hurt her. And you, you're standing here defending him?"
His jaw tightened. "My father isn't perfect. No god is. But he isn't a monster."
I stilled. My voice dropped like ice. "Then he didn't tell you."
A flicker crossed his eyes. Doubt. Shadow. Gone in a breath. "You're lying," he said. "You always lie."
"And you," I whispered, pity slicing sharper than rage, "are going to die for a lie."
I didn't give him another word. I surged forward, shadow and fire. Chaos ripped the murals from the walls, buckled stone, cracked the air itself. Orion's sword flared with light, splitting my wave in two. He slid backward, boots grinding against marble, holding the line like a man carved from steel.
"You always were a showman." His eyes narrowed.
"And you always were your daddy's lapdog."
The floor beneath him exploded. He leapt clean, a streak of gold in the dust, blade arcing down. It bit into my shoulder. Fire seared bone. I screamed, and laughed. "Yes! Finally, someone who hits back!"
I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the floor. Marble cratered. He rolled, kicked free, came up swinging. Steel met chaos. Sparks screamed. Pillars warped into taffy. Gravity buckled. Fire turned colorless, devouring sound. Still Orion pressed forward, every strike clean, disciplined, purposeful. He carved my ribs open. I staggered. Blood spilled. White hot pain made my vision fog. My feral manic kept me standing.
"Yes!" I howled, giddy with pain. Power snapped along my skin like a storm.
I played dirty. Annie's face, conjured weeping before him. Orion faltered. Just long enough. I blasted him across the room. His body slammed the far wall, collapsed. He lay bleeding, unmoving. I stalked forward, boot grinding his chest. Chaos flickered hot in my palms, eyes hollow. "Tell me where he went."
Blood stained his lips, but his stare stayed bright. Defiant. "I don't know. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"He took her. He hurt her."
"Lies," he spat. "He's my father."
"Then he sent you here to die." I leaned close. My words cut like glass. "You're nothing but a speed bump. That's all you ever were."
Something cracked across his face. Not fear. Not doubt. Pain. A wound deeper than any blade. "Then let's hope my death means something." His voice was quiet. Final.
For the first time all night, I froze. I looked at him, not as an obstacle, not as Aerion's son, but as a believer. A man who still thought gods could be just. Gods below, I hated it. I pulled my boot back. My voice cracked, softer than I meant. "Don't. Don't make me do this. You don't have to die for him."
He moved. Not to yield. But to kill. A dagger flashed, small, fast, fatal. "I still believe in him."
I caught it. Time stopped. Literally. The dagger hung in air. Orion froze mid-lunge, eyes wide. The color drained from the world. Chaos bent inward, snapping time into silence.
"You should have stayed down," I whispered.
There was no rage left in me. Only sorrow. Only power. I raised my hand. I unmade him. No scream. No blood. No ash. Just absence. Like time had closed its book and torn out his page. His body fractured into shards of memory, folding inward until nothing remained. Only his sword clattered to the floor. I stared at the empty space. Silence pressed in. The storm inside me didn't roar. It froze. Because I hadn't killed a villain. I had erased a man who still believed.
My boots scraped against the throne room floor as I turned away, chaos flickering like dying embers at my fingertips. My breath shuddered shallow. My jaw locked tight. Not because of the pain in my ribs. Because I wanted Aerion to hurt for this. Instead, I had killed the only one left who thought he was worth saving. And now the scream inside me wasn't fire. It was ice. Sharp. And endless.