"Kaelen!"
Lyra's scream tore through the cavern as the last sparks of his body scattered into the reforged chain. For a heartbeat, the world was nothing but silence.
Then chaos erupted.
The herald fell to his knees, void-blade clattering from his grip. The serpent reared back, its wounds glowing, its voice echoing with grief. "HE IS GONE…"
Lyra staggered forward, reaching for the chain where Kaelen had stood. But all that remained was a blazing glyph burned into the metal—his fire etched forever in its links. She pressed her hand against it, desperate, refusing to believe.
The chain pulsed warmly beneath her palm. It beat like a heart.
"Kaelen…" she whispered.
The presence shrieked, its vast form shuddering against the bindings. The reforged fire seared it with every pulse, weakening it, silencing its seductive whispers. But its hate remained.
"You think you have won? He is no savior—he is mine now! Caged in eternity, burning until the stars rot!"
Lyra gritted her teeth. Her molten blade blazed brighter. "Then I'll tear you apart to bring him back."
The serpent loomed behind her, scales cracked but eyes burning. "FOOLISH, YET TRUE. IF HE IS BOUND, THEN ONLY YOU MAY REACH HIM. BUT IT WILL COST MORE THAN BLOOD."
The herald lifted his broken helm, his voice hollow. "He's not gone. Not yet. I've walked the chain. I felt its hunger. If he is part of it now, he will fade unless someone anchors him. Someone who refuses to let go."
Lyra's chest tightened. She understood. The choice was hers.
If she tried to anchor Kaelen, she might lose herself to the chain. If she didn't, he would dissolve into eternity—fire without form, light without a name.
Her eyes burned as she clenched her sword. She had fought monsters, traitors, gods in shadows. But nothing had ever terrified her more than this.
"Then I'll walk the chain," she whispered, fierce and trembling. "I'll find him. I don't care what it costs."
The glyph pulsed once, answering her vow.
And far, far within the chain, a spark flickered—weak, but alive.
Kaelen.