The world did not cheer when Malvorn died.It exhaled.
The moment the warlord's spiral shattered and his throne turned to ash, a weight lifted from the sky.
The corrupted winds fell still. The black flame faded from the horizon. Across the broken lands,
people who had known only fear… stood in silence, and looked at one another as if remembering
how to breathe.
But peace did not sing. It did not rush in like sunlight through storm clouds.
It came slowly.
Like healing.
⸻
Torian stood atop the hill where the Black Gates had once towered.
There was nothing there now—only wind, and a field of flattened stone. His cloak moved gently
behind him, spiral no longer blazing but quietly pulsing along his arms and chest like a heartbeat
remembered.
Karnis stood nearby, silent, his arms crossed. Skarn lay on his side, sleeping for the first time in two
days, his massive chest rising and falling like a boulder beneath a calm tide.
Torian watched the sky for a long time.
No words.
Just air.
⸻
They began their journey back across the land three days later. Villages that had once shut their
doors to strangers now opened them without hesitation. Children ran behind Skarn, marveling at the
beast's wings and teeth. Elders dropped to their knees when Torian passed, but he always gently
lifted them."No more worship," he said softly. "No more kings."
Karnis didn't speak for most of the walk. Not until they reached a valley where the trees were still
half-burnt and blackened.
"People don't know what to do with peace," he said.
Torian nodded. "They've only ever been told what to fear."
"And now they're afraid of you."
Torian stopped walking.
His spiral dimmed slightly.
"I know."
⸻
That evening, a column of soldiers arrived from the north—armor scorched, weapons lowered, black
spiral tattoos still faintly visible on their skin.
Malvorn's last generals.
They came on foot. Not to fight. To kneel.
One of them—a tall woman with a spiral scar over one eye—spoke first.
"We don't want to run," she said. "We don't want to hide."
"You followed him," Karnis growled.
"We survived him," she corrected. "We never knew how to leave."
Skarn bared his fangs. Karnis stepped forward, hands pulsing with violet aura.
"They should be judged," Karnis said."They are," Torian replied. "Right now."
He approached the soldiers. The spiral across his palms shimmered—not in rage, but in clarity.
"Your spirals are still poisoned," he said.
The woman nodded. "Then take them."
Torian lifted both hands—and light wrapped around each soldier. Not burning. Cleansing.
Their spirals faded.
Their shoulders fell.
And they wept.
⸻
"They'll rebuild," Torian said later, sitting beside a fire. "Or they won't. That's their choice."
Karnis stared into the flame.
"You forgave them."
"No," Torian replied. "I gave them the chance to become someone worth forgiving."
Karnis was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "I was wrong about you."
Torian smiled faintly. "You weren't the only one."
⸻
Two days later, they reached the Spiral Core.
It was quiet now—its massive stone spirals dormant, the light at its center reduced to a warm glow
that shimmered gently like the last flame of a campfire.Karnis and Skarn waited near the outer ridge.
Torian walked alone into the crater.
His spiral pulsed as he neared the center.
This was where he had begun to change.
Where he had stopped being a boy with a sword and become something… else.
He knelt.
And the flame spoke.
⸻
Not in words.
In reflections.
The walls shimmered. The air turned to mirror. And Torian saw versions of himself:
— One where he stayed in the village, afraid to fight.
— One where he became a tyrant like Malvorn.
— One where he burned everything, chasing justice until nothing remained.
— And one where he let go.
He closed his eyes.
And chose.
⸻
When he emerged, the spiral across his chest had dimmed to a quiet, steady glow.
Skarn stood and pressed his great head against Torian's shoulder.Karnis asked nothing—but bowed his head.
"You're not ascending?" he asked quietly.
"I already did," Torian said. "But I don't have to leave to carry the flame."
⸻
That night, they built a small fire on the ridge.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, there were no armies. No battles. No screams.
Only warmth.
Torian sat beside Skarn, one hand resting against the beast's fur. Karnis leaned against a rock, eyes
half-closed.
No one spoke for a long time.
Until Skarn grunted softly and shifted.
Torian glanced at him.
Then smiled.
"It's time to go home."