But as he looked at her, something inside him twisted—the tainted core pulsed once, as if reacting to her exhaustion, hungering for her energy. He clenched his jaw, forcing it down.
Ahce's eyes fluttered open weakly. She smiled—a fragile, fleeting expression. "You're still you," she whispered.
He wanted to believe that.
As night fell over the Pentecase Duchy, the fires of battle still glowed faintly in the distance. Messengers rode to the capital, rumors spreading faster than truth. Whispers of the Soul-Merged Duke and the Witch Duchess began circulating once more.
And in the forest beyond their walls, the Prophet of Purity watched from the shadows, his mouth curling into a cold smile.
"Let them strengthen," he murmured. "The brighter their flame burns… the sweeter it will be when I extinguish it."
