The obsidian palace seemed quieter now, though the silence carried a weight heavier than any sound Hine had ever known. Shadows clung to the edges of the walls, dark tendrils that seemed to shift with intent, following her every step as she approached the throne once more. Her hands shook slightly, but she tightened her grip on the shard. The warmth it radiated was a small comfort against the chill that permeated the air.
Ronova remained seated, unmoving, a figure of perfect stillness and authority. The throne, carved from black stone that drank in all light, seemed more imposing now that Hine faced it alone, without the guidance or presence of the Silent Soul. She had crossed the threshold of courage and endurance, but now she needed more than resilience. She needed mercy, a boon from a being who did not grant it lightly.
"Ruler of Death," Hine began, her voice steady despite the anxiety knotting in her chest. "I have come far. I have endured trials that would break even the strongest of warriors. I have faced shadows and fears beyond imagining. I beg you, grant me longevity. Let me live long enough to find my sister, Mavuika. I cannot fail her. Please, you must understand. I cannot turn back."
Ronova's eyes, dark as a void and endless as night, regarded Hine without the faintest flicker of emotion. Her gaze was calm, unnerving, as though the child standing before her were already long forgotten by time itself. "You plead for that which is not yours to command," she said, her voice smooth, cold, deliberate. "Mortals do not dictate the span of life. You have been permitted to reach me through trials, but permission does not grant the right to bend the laws of existence."
Hine's chest tightened, her heartbeat hammering painfully against her ribs. "I do not ask for myself," she said, her voice trembling despite the strength in her words. "I ask for her, my sister. Mavuika. She is the one who gave me purpose, the one I am trying to reach. Longevity is not a gift I seek for idle pride or ambition. I ask it because without it, everything I have endured, every step I have taken, will be meaningless."
Ronova's lips curved into a motion too slight to be called a smile. It was a ripple across stone, a reminder that she was not human, that she did not see the world through the same lens. "Do you believe that emotion alone can bend the order of existence? Do you think desire and devotion are enough to defy death itself?"
Hine's hands tightened on the shard. "I do not know. But I know that I will try, and I will endure. I will face whatever you put before me because I cannot let Mavuika down. I cannot fail her. Even if it costs me everything, I will not turn back."
The Ruler of Death inclined her head slightly, the faintest gesture that suggested acknowledgment. "You speak with courage. You speak with conviction. Few have ever stood before me with such determination. Yet courage does not alter the immutable laws. Life has a span. Death has a dominion. I cannot, and I will not, bend these principles for you."
Hine's heart sank as a cold weight settled over her chest. She had expected resistance, even hostility, but she had hoped—perhaps naively—that her courage and devotion might earn her mercy. She swallowed hard, forcing her fear and despair into the back of her mind. "There must be a way," she said. "There has to be something that can let me continue, even if it is a small chance, even if it is temporary. I cannot turn back. I will not."
Ronova leaned forward slightly, resting her hands upon the arms of her throne. Her voice remained calm, but each word struck like ice. "You speak of chance as if it can be created by will alone. Life and death are not matters of hope. They are principles beyond mortal comprehension. You are brave, child, but bravery alone does not grant immortality. Even now, you remain mortal, and the end is inevitable. I will not grant you longevity. That is not within my authority to give freely. You may try to challenge the laws, you may even attempt to defy me, but understand this—nothing you possess, no shard, no courage, no fire within you, can alter the dominion of Death."
Hine felt the words settle like a stone in her chest. She wanted to speak, to argue, to plead further, but every instinct told her that forceful words would not bend Ronova's will. She had faced peril before, physical and spiritual, but this… this was a trial of principle, one that no mortal had ever truly won. The Ruler of Death was unmoved, unwavering, unyielding.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She could not afford to appear weak here, not when the fate of her sister rested on her determination. She drew in a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the shard pulse in her hand. It was a faint comfort, a tether to the power she carried, however small it seemed in the presence of a being who embodied inevitability.
"Then I will not beg," Hine said finally, her voice firmer now. "If you will not grant me longevity, I will earn it. I will prove that my desire is worthy of defying even the natural order. I will endure, again and again, until I can find Mavuika. You may deny me, but you cannot stop me. I will continue, no matter the cost."
For a moment, Ronova remained silent, her eyes fixed on Hine with an intensity that made the child's skin crawl. Then she spoke, her voice low, deliberate, carrying the weight of finality. "You are indeed bold, and perhaps foolish. You will not have longevity, and yet your will burns fiercely. Understand this, little Pyro Archon's kin—if you continue to pursue what you seek, the trials you will face will be harsher than anything you have yet endured. Each step forward will be measured. Every misstep, every falter, will be punished. There is no mercy in the dominion of Death, and there will be no reprieve for your persistence. You may continue, but you will face suffering beyond imagining, and I will watch it all."
Hine's hands trembled, the shard feeling heavier in her grasp as if it sensed the weight of Ronova's words. Yet beneath the fear, determination flared. She had not come this far to turn back now. She could not. The memory of Mavuika, the warmth of her sister's presence even in memory, fueled her resolve. She squared her shoulders, standing taller than she had ever stood before any mortal or divine being.
"I understand," Hine said. "I understand the danger, the cost, and the suffering. But I will continue. I will endure every trial, face every danger, and defy every obstacle. I cannot fail her. I cannot fail Mavuika."
Ronova's gaze lingered on Hine for a long, unbearable moment. Then, slowly, she reclined back into her throne, her expression returning to its calm, unyielding neutrality. "Very well. You may continue. But remember this—the dominion of Death is unrelenting. Every life you take, every step you move forward, will be measured. You will be observed. Do not believe that courage alone will shield you from what is to come. The path ahead is merciless, and your heart will be tested in ways you cannot yet imagine. Proceed, and see how long you can endure against the inevitable."
Hine nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the warning and the burden placed upon her. She turned away from the throne, her steps echoing across the obsidian floor. Every footfall was a reminder of the choice she had made, the path she had committed herself to, and the trials that awaited. She had no longevity granted, no divine reprieve, only the promise of struggle and the fire in her own heart.
The corridors of the obsidian palace seemed longer now, shadows deeper, the air colder. Yet Hine walked forward, the shard glowing faintly in her hand, a beacon of hope and determination. She could not falter. She would not falter. Every step, every heartbeat, was a testament to her resolve, a silent declaration that no denial, no obstacle, no force of death itself could stop her from reaching her sister.
The whispers of lost souls brushed against her ears, reminders of the inevitability that Ronova embodied. Hine ignored them, focusing instead on the warmth of her own fire, the unyielding resolve that had carried her through mountains, beasts, and shadowed corridors. She had faced death before, but now she faced the embodiment of it itself. She would endure. She had no choice but to endure.
As she stepped further into the shadowed halls beyond the throne, Hine felt the weight of the Ruler's words settle upon her like stone. She would face trials, countless and cruel, but she would continue. Longevity had been denied, but her spirit remained unbroken. Her journey was far from over, and the path to Mavuika remained before her, daunting, perilous, and inevitable.
The Ruler of Death had spoken, and her verdict was clear. Hine's path would be one of relentless struggle. There would be no mercy, no leniency, and no reprieve. Yet for the first time in her young life, Hine felt the full measure of her own strength. She was small, mortal, and alone, yet unyielding. She would continue. She would endure. And she would not stop until her sister was found.
The shard pulsed in her hand, steady and warm, a reminder that even in the coldest darkness, a fire could burn. Hine's resolve solidified. The journey ahead would test her beyond measure, but she would walk it, step by step, shadow by shadow, heart ablaze. The Ruler of Death may have denied her longevity, but she could not deny Hine's will to endure.