After the gray shadow illusion burned to ashes, everything seemed to return to silence. When Ilea opened her eyes, she found herself in the central altar of the Temple of the Flame's Heart—the oldest spiritual realm of the Phoenix clan, and the true place where the Oath of Flames was fulfilled.
Flames flowed like veins in the air around her, revealing intertwined totems of fire runes and oath seals. She sat up slowly; her armor had transformed into a light flame veil, clinging to her skin as if she and this realm had merged into one.
Footsteps approached from afar.
It was Lucian.
Silver-white flames blazed around him, his eyes deep with unquenched fury and pity. He knelt before her, his hands covering her cold shoulders, his voice hoarse:
"You saved yourself, and you saved me. But you haven't yet completed the Phoenix's pact."
Ilea lifted her eyes slightly, her voice barely a breath:
"Then we shall complete it together."
At that moment, the Temple of the Flame's Heart suddenly sealed shut. Flames cascaded like water, isolating the two from the outside world. A low, chant-like ancient tongue echoed from the depths of the temple—a sign that the Seal of the Flame's Pact had begun to activate.
Lucian leaned down to kiss her. Flames erupted at the touch, yet they no longer burned; instead, they guided. His lips and tongue wandered over her neck, and oath seals bloomed like flowers across her skin, creeping inch by inch toward her heart.
Ilea moaned, her body reflexively pressing against his. Her fingertips traced his bare back, feeling their mutual heat merge into the core of the flame's heart.
"Surrender to everything, Ilea," Lucian murmured. "This is not a battle. It is fusion."
She nodded, closing her eyes. Her body felt as if it were burning, yet also being purified.
Lucian's entrance was deep and slow, like an oath flame piercing the soul. Their gasps echoed in the temple, sweat mingling with firelight. They were not claiming each other; they were engraving each other's existence—through the most primal, yet most sacred, means.
Each of his thrusts was precise and profound, guiding her body to rise amid the flames. Ilea's moans shifted from restraint to release, then from release to whispers. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and the oath seals on their chests intertwined, overlapping, and erupted simultaneously at the moment of climax.
"Lucian!" she cried out his name, almost in tears.
Flames shot into the sky, shaking the temple to its foundations.
Their bodies remained tightly entangled, and deep within their souls, the mark of the flame's heart finally merged completely.
The oath between the Phoenix and the War God was truly sealed at this moment.
They lay side by side, flames encircling them, as if only the two of them remained in heaven and earth.
Ilea turned her head to look at Lucian, softly asking:
"If the end is destined to be destruction, would you still walk with me to the end?"
Lucian did not answer. He merely leaned down to kiss her forehead—a kiss as steady as an oath seal—
Unfading for a lifetime.