The collision of our powers had made reality scream.
And in the silence after, after the battle that had torn through what remained of the throne room, after divine fire had met silver wings in combat that reshaped cosmic law itself, I stood over Luna's broken form.
She lay where her throne had been, the Scarlet Throne now nothing but scattered fragments of crystallized grief. Her endless-night eyes were dimming, divinity bleeding out through cracks in her perfect form.
I'd won. Had absorbed her final attack. Had proven that ascension through love was stronger than divinity built on hollow.
Had broken the goddess who'd designed my suffering.
And now she was dying. Fading. Becoming nothing.
I should have felt triumphant. Should have felt vindicated. Should have felt like justice was being served.
But all I felt was emptiness.
Because even broken, even defeated, Luna looked so alone. So tired. So desperate for something I couldn't name.
