The world erupted in black light, a storm of shadows and corruption that threw snow, stone, and air itself into chaotic spirals. Elara's ears rang from the screams of hollows and the ground shook violently beneath her.
She fell to her knees, covering her face, feeling the bite of debris on her skin. The Confluence shrieked as tendrils of black light tore through it, screaming, thrashing, but at the center of it all… Aelric stood.
But he wasn't fully himself.
The corruption coursed through him, stronger than ever before, but restrained—like a wild beast tamed by sheer will. His chest heaved, tendrils flicking out and retracting rapidly, lashing the remaining hollows into self-destruction.
Elara crawled toward him, her hands bloodied from the frozen snow. "Aelric! Are you—are you okay?"
He blinked, eyes glowing faintly gold. His voice came ragged but steady. "I… am. Barely. But it's done—for now."
---
Kaelen stumbled down the ridge with the hunters, weapons lowered. His cloak was dusted with snow, a few shards of black residue clinging to the fabric. His expression was unreadable, as if he had seen too much in his lifetime to react.
"You…" he muttered, looking at the ruined battlefield. "…you actually controlled it."
Aelric flexed his corrupted arm, the veins pulsing slowly, almost resting. "I don't play fair."
Elara exhaled shakily. "That… that was insane."
Kaelen didn't answer. He looked toward the horizon, calculating. "This… changes everything."
One of the hunters spoke nervously. "Sir, the shards—they've responded to him. They're… unstable."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Good. Let them know what they've been underestimating."
Elara turned to Aelric. "You need rest. You're… you're almost gone yourself."
He gave her a crooked smile. "Rest isn't an option tonight. We still have three nights left."
Her hands clenched. "I can't do three more nights like that. I barely survived this one."
He shook his head, the gold in his eyes dimming slightly. "Then we survive because we have to. Not because it's easy. Not because it's safe. Because if we don't… everything we've fought for dies."
---
The remnants of the Confluence dissolved into black mist, drifting upward and scattering into the wind. Yet, faint echoes lingered in the snow—screams, whispers, and distant laughter that seemed to be both theirs and not theirs.
Elara shivered. "Do you hear that?"
Aelric closed his eyes. "Yes. And it doesn't matter. It can't hurt us if we stay together."
Kaelen's gaze fell on them. "Together," he repeated quietly, almost as if testing the word. He turned to the hunters. "Leave them. For now."
The hunters murmured but obeyed. They melted into the shadows of the mountains, silent as death itself.
Elara watched them go, unease twisting in her gut. "I don't trust him. Not fully. Not ever."
Aelric grinned faintly, though tired. "That's fair. Neither do I."
---
The three of them—Aelric, Elara, and Kaelen—stood amid the ruined plateau, the snow settling slowly around them. A silence unlike any other hung over the battlefield. Not peaceful—just… waiting.
Elara finally broke it. "What now?"
Kaelen's voice was quiet, calculated. "Now… we prepare. You have survived Night Six, but the system knows. It has recorded every move, every moment of control and every fraction of corruption. And it will adjust accordingly."
Aelric's grip on his pipe tightened. "You mean Night Seven?"
Kaelen's nod was slow. "Yes. And it will be worse. Stronger. Sharper. The system will test everything you have left. Every ounce of will, skill, and survival instinct. And this time…" His eyes lingered on Aelric. "…it won't be contained by the plateau, by the hollows, or even by your corruption. It will reach further than anything before."
Elara felt her stomach twist. "Then we need a plan."
Aelric shook his head. "No. Planning won't help. Not really. We've already survived impossible things. The only way through is to keep moving, keep fighting, and trust… well…" His eyes flicked to her. "…trust each other. That's all we've got left."
Kaelen watched them silently, unreadable. Then he spoke. "If you survive Night Seven… you may finally understand the true meaning of the system."
Elara frowned. "And if we don't?"
Kaelen's eyes hardened. "Then Night Seven will take everything. And there will be no one left to remember you."
---
The plateau fell into shadow as the sun sank behind the mountains. Aelric and Elara huddled together for warmth, Kaelen standing sentinel nearby. The cold wasn't just in the air—it was in their bones.
They spoke little, each lost in thoughts of what had come and what was yet to come. The snow whispered around them, carrying fragments of memory from the Confluence—screams, laughter, despair.
Elara's hands shook as she cleaned her dagger, silent tears streaking her face. "I can't… I can't lose him. Not now. Not ever."
Aelric's hand brushed hers, though he barely had the strength to move it. "You won't. And if I fall… you'll carry me. You always do."
Her heart clenched. "Don't even say that."
His lips curled into a faint, tired smile. "I have to. It keeps me human… just barely."
Kaelen stepped closer. "Rest while you can. When the next toll comes… none of you will have the luxury of sleep. Not if you want to survive Night Seven."
Elara nodded, though fear twisted her gut. She looked at Aelric, at the corrupted arm that still twitched despite the battle's end. "I don't care what it takes," she whispered. "I'll stay with you until the end."
Aelric's eyes softened briefly, exhaustion and relief crossing his face. "Then… let's rest. But only a little. Night Seven isn't waiting."
The wind howled across the plateau. Shadows stretched long, whispering, moving. Somewhere, far above, the system itself seemed to watch, counting down the final night.
Elara curled beside Aelric. Kaelen remained standing, eyes scanning the mountains. And as darkness fell fully, each of them knew: Night Seven would not forgive. Night Seven would not stop.
And none of them would walk away unchanged.