The fall ended not in impact but in weightlessness. Carlos opened his eyes to sunlight—warm, golden, real. For a moment he lay still, stunned by the sudden peace after endless battle. Grass brushed against his hands, cool and soft. Above him stretched a clear sky, untouched by storm or shadow.
He sat up slowly. Rolling hills shimmered with wildflowers, rivers sparkled like glass, and distant mountains crowned the horizon in silver. It was perfect—too perfect.
One by one, the others appeared beside him. Lys blinked at the landscape, bow slack at her side. Rina stood tense at first, then faltered as her dagger slipped from her grip. Thalor's mouth opened in wonder, his armor catching the sunlight. Maren exhaled shakily, clutching her staff but lowering it as if the fight had already ended.
"Where… are we?" she whispered.
Carlos scanned the horizon. "Another realm. But it doesn't feel like the others."
"Doesn't feel like a trap either," Rina muttered, though her eyes darted across the meadow as if expecting blades hidden in the grass.
But the meadow did not strike. It welcomed.
They walked, wary at first, then slower as the land soothed them. Birds sang overhead. A breeze carried the scent of honey and pine. Their exhaustion seemed to fade with each step, their wounds knitting closed without magic.
It wasn't long before the illusions began.
Lys was the first. She stopped in her tracks, bow slipping from her hands as her sister appeared at the crest of a hill. Alive. Smiling. Her voice carried on the wind, light and real.
"Lys. You found me."
Lys stumbled forward before Carlos caught her arm. "It's not real," he warned.
But her sister's laughter rang in her ears, and her heart screamed otherwise.
Rina's turn came next. A village stood where moments before there had been only grass. Lanterns lit the streets, children ran barefoot, and at the center stood the guild she had once betrayed. Faces she thought long dead lifted toward her, smiling, forgiving.
"Rina. Come home."
Her daggers trembled in her hands, her mask cracking. She wanted it to be true.
Thalor saw his brothers, alive and unscarred, laughing as they shared bread and mead around a campfire. They raised their cups in salute, calling his name. His shield slipped lower, his voice breaking. "They're here. They never died."
Maren's vision was the most dangerous. A palace of light rose before her, its halls filled with scholars, sages, voices praising her as savior, as master of the elements. Power thrummed in her veins as the illusion wrapped around her. "They finally understand me. They don't fear me anymore."
Carlos felt the pull as well. The meadow blurred, becoming the arcade where it all began. His friends from the old world laughed around him, untouched by war or death. His father—alive, proud—clapped him on the shoulder.
"You did it, son. You don't have to fight anymore."
The warmth nearly broke him. Nearly.
But the Helm's whisper lingered at the edge of it all:"Stay. Rest. Be who you always wanted to be. There is no need to fight again."
Carlos's grip tightened on the Blade of Ascension. The warmth around him flickered, and he forced himself to breathe through the ache.
"No," he said aloud. "This isn't real. And we're not done."
The illusion trembled, and his friends' visions wavered. But each clung to theirs, unwilling to let go. Carlos turned to them, heart aching.
"If you stay here, we lose. The Helm wins."
Lys's sister called to her, reaching out a hand. Rina's village sang her name. Thalor's brothers laughed in the firelight. Maren's palace echoed with cheers.
Carlos raised his voice, fierce and desperate. "You've fought too hard to fall for shadows. Look at me! This is not the end."
For a heartbeat, none moved. Then Lys's bow snapped back into her hands, trembling but firm. Rina's daggers crossed before her, cutting through her village like smoke. Thalor raised his shield high, his brothers' laughter dying in silence. Maren clutched her staff, flames blazing until the palace dissolved into ash.
The meadow went still. The illusions cracked and fell away, revealing an endless void beneath the painted sky.
The Helm's voice whispered, colder now:"So be it. You reject paradise. You choose pain."
Carlos's answer was steady. "We choose each other."
The ground shattered beneath them, and the Realm of Paradise was gone.