The Dominion roared as if alive, its labyrinth of broken streets and fractured skies collapsing into itself. The Watcher loomed at the center, its colossal body shaking as reality bent around it. Its single blazing eye fixed on them all, its voice a guttural echo that rattled through their bones:
"You are not meant to endure. You are dust before eternity."
But they did not waver.
The Unity
Lys's final arrow split the storm, streaking like silver lightning toward the Watcher's chest.Thalor's battered shield shone with radiant light, forcing open a path through the void.Rina's daggers spun like shards of a star, cutting through chains before they could bind them.Maren's unstable storm swelled, a vortex of fire and frost that shattered shadow after shadow.
And at the heart of it all—Carlos.
The Blade of Ascension burned in his hands, brighter than ever before, not because of his strength alone, but because every vow, every sacrifice, every voice of his companions surged into him.
He leapt.
The Collision
The Watcher unleashed its annihilation beam. The abyss howled as pure destruction tore forward, a tide of void meant to erase everything.
Thalor planted his shield. The blast struck it with earth-splitting force, but Thalor did not fall. He held, roaring in defiance, his strength bleeding into the shield until it cracked apart in a blaze of golden fire.
Through the opening, Carlos charged.
Lys's arrow struck first, embedding in the Watcher's chest. A fissure of light spread across its body.Rina darted in, carving through the exposed sinews of shadow.Maren raised her staff high and screamed, releasing all her unstable magic in a cataclysmic burst.
The Dominion itself trembled, torn between collapse and rebirth.
And Carlos, bathed in fire and storm, brought down the Blade of Ascension.
The Breaking of the Watcher
The sword plunged deep into the Watcher's helm.
For a heartbeat, silence.Then—light.
The Watcher screamed, not in rage but in terror, its voice breaking into a thousand fractured echoes. Its form split apart, fragments of shadow disintegrating into sparks of gold. The great helm cracked, fire bursting outward in rivers of brilliance.
Chains shattered. Streets reformed. The Dominion's twisted architecture unraveled into starlight.
The labyrinth city crumbled into nothing, leaving only the five of them standing on a field of endless white.
The Watcher was gone.
The Aftermath
Carlos fell to his knees, the Blade of Ascension still glowing faintly in his grip. Lys was there first, steadying him with one arm. Rina collapsed beside them, grinning despite her bloodied face. Thalor limped forward, shield gone, but head held high. Maren staggered last, her staff broken, yet her eyes alight with victory.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Then Carlos whispered, voice trembling but sure:
"We did it."
The Helm pulsed once on his head. A voice—calm, ancient, and no longer cruel—echoed:
"Final trial complete. The Dominion has fallen. The path awaits."
A gateway of golden fire opened before them.
Not one of them moved toward it. Not yet. They stood together, five survivors bound by fire, shadow, and trust.
Whatever lay beyond, they would face it together.