The road carried them east, through mountain paths where the air was thin and sharp. For weeks they followed half-whispered rumors, searching for traces of the Medusa's daughter. Luna often dreamed of Seraphina and Dorian—wondering if they had found peace, or if danger had reached them too.
Then, one dusk, Adrian halted on a ridge, his crimson eyes narrowing. "We've found them."
Below, in the shadow of the cliffs, a small campfire glowed. Around it stood three figures: Seraphina, her snake-like hair tied back beneath her hood, the necklace of binding glowing faintly against her chest; Dorian, his once-blind eyes now clear and sharp, glimmering with a strange light; and a towering man with scarred arms and a great blade strapped across his back. His presence radiated power like a storm barely held at bay.
"Kratos," Adrian muttered, voice edged with caution.
Luna's cloudy eyes brightened. "Seraphina!" She hurried down the slope, nearly stumbling in her eagerness. Seraphina looked up in shock, then broke into a rare smile, rushing forward to embrace the little zombie girl.
"You're alive," Seraphina whispered, relief clear in her voice.
"And stronger than before," Dorian added, his gaze warm as he met Luna's for the first time with healed eyes. "I can finally see you."
Before more could be said, the earth trembled. The sky above split with a crack of thunder, and a figure descended on wings of fire—an envoy of Olympus, armored in gold, eyes burning like suns.
"The slayers of Ares," the being declared, its voice shaking the mountains. "And the cursed child of death. By decree of Olympus, you are condemned!"
Adrian bared his fangs, Achradina's hand tightened on her spear, and Kratos silently drew his massive blade, his eyes hard as iron.
The battle exploded. The divine envoy wielded a flaming glaive that struck like lightning, forcing Kratos and Adrian back with sheer force. Seraphina unleashed her bow, arrows glowing with green fire, while Dorian—his sight restored—fought with newfound precision, his blade moving like an extension of his will. Achradina's spear clashed against the envoy's weapon, her movements precise, each strike filled with celestial might.
Luna, trembling, summoned every ounce of her strength, clawing into the envoy's golden armor. Her hands burned, but she refused to let go. Not again. I won't lose anyone else.
Together, the six of them fought as one—Kratos' fury breaking through divine defenses, Seraphina's arrows piercing the envoy's wings, Dorian striking with deadly clarity, Adrian's speed carving openings, Achradina's spear striking with unerring force, and Luna delivering the final blow, tearing free the envoy's blazing core.
The being screamed, light scattering like shattered glass, and then it was gone.
Silence fell. The group stood, scarred and weary, but alive.
Kratos lowered his blade, his deep voice rumbling. "The gods will not stop here. More will come."
Seraphina placed a hand on Luna's shoulder. "Then we'll face them. Together."
Adrian crossed his arms, his crimson eyes thoughtful. "Strange allies fate has given us."
Achradina looked skyward, her silver gaze unreadable. "Not strange—necessary. The storm ahead will demand more than any of us alone."
The fire crackled in the growing night. Six figures stood together now, united by chance and by battle.
For the first time, Luna was not just surviving. She was part of something greater.
And though the gods themselves stood against them, she no longer felt afraid.