The ground quakes beneath May's feet.
Not a tremor—
a pulse.
A heartbeat.
But not hers.
Not Nathel's.
Something older.
Something vast.
Something that recognizes her.
Nathel immediately shifts in front of her, his hand tightening around hers.
"Stay close," he murmurs, though his voice is taut with fear he's trying desperately to hide.
Zara stands on the other side—silent, tense, eyes fixed on the shadow crawling through the forest.
Leaves twist upward unnaturally.
The trees bend away as if trying to flee.
The earth groans like something enormous is forcing its way into their world.
May's pulse accelerates.
"What is that?" she whispers.
Zara's jaw clenches.
"The Champion."
A cold wind tears across the clearing.
Branches snap.
The shadows pool together like liquid ink, rising upward—
stretching—
twisting—
forming a shape far larger than any creature May has ever seen.
It has no true face,
no true body—
just a towering silhouette carved out of void, with veins of violet light pulsing through its form.
Its presence crushes the air from May's lungs.
It feels like standing before the ocean
and realizing the waves want you.
Nathel steps forward, summoning what little power he has left.
A golden glow circles his fist—small, flickering.
Too small.
Zara's eyes widen.
"You can't fight it head-on—"
"I don't care," Nathel snaps.
"She's not going back."
The Champion tilts its head, its body creaking like ancient stone stirring awake.
Then—
it speaks.
Not aloud.
Inside her.
"THRONE-BEARER."
The voice shatters through her ribs like a shockwave.
May stumbles backward, gasping.
Nathel lunges to steady her.
"Get out of her head!" he snarls, golden energy crackling off his hand.
But the Champion barely notices him.
Its attention is locked on May.
"YOU HAVE WHAT BELONGS TO THE VEIL."
May grips her chest where the mark burns like a brand.
"I didn't choose this!" she cries.
"I don't want this!"
The Champion's voice rolls like thunder.
"THE THRONE DOES NOT ASK WHAT YOU WANT."
Nathel turns, fury erupting across his face.
"She's not your prisoner!"
Golden light bursts from his palm, firing toward the Champion.
It strikes.
The Champion doesn't move.
The light dissolves against its body like dust hitting stone.
Nathel freezes.
Zara curses under her breath.
"Nathel—stop! You'll burn yourself out—"
But he doesn't listen.
He attacks again, and again, golden bursts flaring violently.
Each one disappears into the void without leaving a mark.
The Champion slowly raises one hand—
long, jagged, crackling with shadow.
Nathel's eyes widen—
"MOVE!" Zara screams.
May doesn't think.
She acts.
She throws herself forward—directly between Nathel and the incoming wave of shadow.
Nathel roars, reaching for her—
But the shadow hits.
It hits her chest—
directly where the mark glows.
And instead of destroying her—
the shadow
ignites
the mark.
A dazzling, explosive light bursts from her body.
Zara shields her face.
Nathel drops to one knee, blinded.
The trees whip backward from the force.
The light rises—
and shapes form inside it.
A throne.
Not a seat.
A symbol.
A cosmic imprint.
A rotating ring of gold and violet, carved with runes older than language.
It hovers behind May, spinning slowly, resonating with her heartbeat.
Nathel stares, breathless.
"May…"
Zara whispers, tremors in her voice.
"She's… awakened."
May drops to her knees, clutching her chest as the Throne's light pours through her veins.
She feels everything—
the power,
the rage,
the sorrow,
the history of every Half-Heart who came before her,
every bond forged,
every soul the Veil consumed.
The pain is unbearable.
But beneath it—
there is something else.
Strength.
The Champion steps closer.
Its shadow bows under the Throne's glow.
"YOU ARE WHAT THE VEIL HAS WAITED FOR,"
it rumbles.
Nathel staggers to his feet.
"No.
She's not yours.
She's not the Veil's.
She's—"
The Champion raises its hand.
Nathel is thrown backward violently.
"Nathel!" May screams.
He slams into a tree, collapsing, dazed.
Zara runs to him immediately.
"Don't get up—your soul can't take another hit!"
But Nathel pushes her away weakly.
"I'm not leaving her," he chokes.
May rises to her feet.
Barely.
Shaking.
The Throne behind her grows brighter.
The Champion lowers its head slightly.
"THRONE-BEARER… CHOOSE."
May's voice trembles.
"Choose what?"
"WHICH WORLD YOU WILL SAVE."
The forest goes silent.
Nathel looks up at her, blood on his lip, eyes desperate.
"May…"
Zara whispers sharply.
"This is the final decision."
The Champion extends its hand toward May.
"RESTORE THE VEIL…
OR LET IT FALL."
May stands there—
her heart burning,
the Throne rising behind her,
her choices closing around her like walls.
If she restores the Veil—
Nathel may lose her forever.
If she lets it fall—
the world may collapse.
She swallows.
Looks at Nathel.
Then at the Champion.
Then at the light pulsing in her own chest.
May takes a step forward.
And makes her choice.