The quiet of the chamber was heavy, almost reverent, as the brazier's fire crackled softly. Mike sat with his back against the stone wall, his chest still aching from the chains that had bound him in the council's judgment. He was gathering what little strength he had left when footsteps broke the silence.
Hamza entered, crimson aura faint but unmistakable, chains glimmering at his wrists like embers ready to ignite. He regarded Mike with that familiar iron gaze, stern, unbending, yet not without its own weight of care.
"This trial," Hamza said without preamble, "was different than what you endured after Hunter's death." His voice carried the authority of command, yet also the gravity of a lesson meant to cut deep. "Then, you tore the veil with mortal grief. It was dangerous, it was reckless, but it was still mortal. That breach required intervention, but not judgment."
He stepped closer, his aura brushing against Mike like heated metal.
"This time, you devoured divinity. You claimed it, whether you wished to or not. The moment you did, your actions ceased to be yours alone. You carry power that tilts the balance of realms, and when you lost control, it was not a mortal man who slaughtered villagers, it was a divine being. That is why the council judged you. That is why you were dragged into the crucible."
Mike swallowed hard, eyes cast to the floor. The truth in Hamza's words burned more than the chains ever had. "And now?" he asked hoarsely. "What does that make me?"
Hamza's crimson gaze hardened. "It makes you a wielder of divinity, claimed, not borrowed. You are no longer only a man stumbling against the whispers. You are a fracture in the order. And fractures must either be mended… or broken."
He leaned in, his voice low, sharp as steel.
"I still stand with you in your war against gods and their chosen. That, I will never abandon. But hear me, Michael: mortals are not yours to consume. Not once, not ever again. If you turn your fangs on them, I will end our pact myself, and I will not hesitate to put you down."
The words struck with the weight of finality. Mike looked up, meeting Hamza's crimson eyes, and found no room for negotiation there, only truth. He gave a small, slow nod.
"…I understand."
The silence lingered until Mike finally drew a breath and spoke again, voice softer, almost breaking. "I want to see Kelsey. I need to know she's alright."
From the shadows, another presence stirred. Binyai stepped forward, obsidian cloak rippling like water under starlight. His voice slid across the chamber like a blade across stone.
"She is awake," he said, each word deliberate. "And she has asked for you."
Mike's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the firelight flickered strangely against his eyes, and his chest tightened. He forced himself upright, every step trembling but urgent, as he followed Binyai through the winding passages of Maymun's halls.
The chamber they entered was quieter, gentler than the council hall, its walls etched with soft runes, its air filled with the faint scent of healing herbs. On a low bed, draped in linen, Kelsey stirred. Her skin was pale, her frame still frail from her ordeal, but her eyes opened as the door creaked.
"Mike…" Her voice was a whisper, but it reached him like thunder.
He was at her side in an instant, sinking to his knees, his hands trembling as they found hers. Her skin was warm, fragile, alive. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"You're awake," he said, voice breaking, eyes burning with a mixture of grief and relief. "You're awake…"
She smiled faintly, though exhaustion shadowed her expression. "I… I knew you'd come back."
Mike's hand tightened gently around hers. He swallowed hard, forcing the words through the storm in his chest.
"Kelsey… this world we're in, it's nothing like what we had. It's blood and gods who play with mortals like toys. I can't shield you from all of it, not by hiding, not by running." He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers. "But I can fight. I can tear down every god who would harm us, burn every chain they try to put on us. I swear I'll protect you from the horrors of this world, even if it means becoming one myself."
Her weak fingers curled around his hand, squeezing with what little strength she had. Her eyes glistened as she whispered, "Just… come back to me, Mike. Don't lose yourself."
For the first time since the trial, Mike felt a steady calm rise within him. The crimson in his aura still burned, but now it was tempered by a golden flame. Holding her hand, he felt something he hadn't dared believe in, relief. She was alive. She was recovering.
His eyes burned with resolution as he lifted his head, staring past the chamber walls, toward the world beyond. "Then I'll fight," he murmured, voice steady, unshakable now. "And I'll win. For you."
Kelsey closed her eyes, resting, a small smile on her lips. Mike remained at her side, his hand in hers, no longer chained, no longer prey to whispers. For the first time, his oath felt like his own.
The chamber was dim but warm, the faint glow of runes pulsing like a heartbeat in the stone. For the first time in what felt like years, the silence around Mike wasn't suffocating. He sat in the chair beside Kelsey's bed, her hand still in his, his body finally still.
Kelsey's breaths came slow and even. She had drifted back to sleep, her fragile strength needing rest more than words. Mike didn't move, he couldn't. Every time her chest rose and fell, it was proof that she was alive, that the world hadn't stolen her from him the way it had stolen so much else.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, careful, reverent. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, though she couldn't hear. "If I'd come back to nothing… I don't know if I would've had anything left to fight for."
The whispers that had plagued his mind since Hecate, since Woden, since the blood-soaked village, were silent now. It was strange, almost alien to have that quiet inside his skull. Bahamut lingered, not speaking, but his presence was steady, like a mountain shadowed against the horizon. Mike suspected the dragon was watching him, testing him, perhaps even approving of his restraint.
He leaned back in the chair, exhaustion still heavy in his bones, and let himself imagine just for a breath what life might have been. A table filled with family. Children's laughter echoing in a backyard. His parents smiling as Kelsey passed them a dish at Thanksgiving. That ache rose in his chest again, the final trial still raw in his memory. But instead of tearing him apart, it steeled him. That life was gone but what he had now was real, and worth fighting for.
Kelsey stirred faintly, murmuring in her sleep, and her grip on his hand tightened almost imperceptibly. Mike bowed his head, pressing his forehead to her knuckles.
"I'll protect you," he whispered, voice low and resolute. "I don't care if it costs me everything. No gods, no monsters, nothing takes you from me again."
The rune-light flickered, casting his features in a crimson-gold glow. For the first time, that duality in him felt balanced, not warring. His trial had stripped him bare, but in this moment, holding her hand he felt whole.
He let himself sit there until sleep finally claimed him, his head resting beside her arm, his hand still clasping hers. Outside, the palace of Maymun hummed with unseen currents of debate and judgment, but for now, in this quiet chamber, Mike allowed himself one fragile thing he had almost forgotten how to feel.