The torch had died.
The cell was a cavern of shadows, the only sound the rattle of chains and the rasp of Kairo's breath. His body burned, every muscle screaming, but still he moved.
Step.
Pivot.
Strike.
Breath.
The rhythm was sharper now, more deliberate. The Judgement Dance was no longer just motion — it was defiance.
The gods stirred again.
"Look at him flail."
"Pathetic. He bleeds to remember steps while we hold eternity."
"Zahrathos, why do you keep this body chained to weakness?"
Kairo's eyes flared crimson, his silver strands pulsing faintly in the dark. He pressed forward — another step, another strike — refusing them with motion, with rhythm.
But then the voices grew harsher, their tones like knives driven into the marrow of his bones.
"Release him to us."
"You cannot guard him forever."
"Let us end this farce. Ninety-nine demons will shred him to dust. Give him over, and he will not suffer."
The air thickened. The walls of the cell seemed to close in.
And then — another voice.
Deep. Resonant. Ancient.
"No."
The gods fell silent for a breath. Then they hissed, snarling like serpents denied prey.
"You defy us, Zahrathos?"
"This is not your vessel to keep."
"He is ours by right!"
The voice of Zahrathos rolled through the dark, heavy and unyielding.
"He is mine. His chains are my chains. His breath is my breath. You will not have him."
Kairo staggered mid-motion, his body trembling. For the first time, he felt it fully — the presence inside him, vast and immovable, like a mountain of fire and stone. Not an invader. A guardian.
The gods shrieked in fury.
"You bind yourself to weakness!"
"When he falls, you will fall with him!"
"You cannot protect him forever, Zahrathos!"
The deep voice rumbled again, colder now, final.
"I will protect him until he chooses otherwise. He is not yours."
The voices of the gods recoiled, retreating into whispers that slithered into silence.
Kairo stood frozen, his fists clenched, his chest heaving. Sweat dripped into the stone, blood smeared his knuckles. He had no words — only the certainty that something vast had just spoken in his defense.
For the first time since his torment began, the chains at his wrists felt less heavy.
And the Dance moved smoother.
Step.
Pivot.
Strike.
Breath.
The silence of the gods was louder than their mockery had ever been.