Artizea had watched the rain of terror; as the stars plummeted to the ground, "What did he just do—" her voice trembling.
Fin glanced back at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. "What had to be done."
"What does that mean—" she stuttered
Silence
"TURN AROUND!" Artizea's voice thundered in her ears.
Fin flinched at the command booming behind his skull. "Your Highness—"
"He is not your master anymore!" she shouted, gripping feathers with both hands. "My brother is—and as his sister, I command you to turn back around!"
Fin's great wings wavered. "Your Highness," he said through clenched beak, "my orders are to protect you with my life."
"Then protect me while I protect Rhys!" she screamed.
A dangerous silence fell. Fin's wings slowed… then stilled… then—A low growl vibrated through his chest. "As you command… Princess Artizea."
He pivoted midair, talons cutting through clouds, diving back toward the battlefield with a roar that shook the sky.
"Rhyssand, Enough," Demeter commanded.
Azreaphel staggered back, his face twisting into a smirk of triumph.
Rhyssand's jaw clenched as he lowered his weapon slightly.
"Demeter—" Ishtar gasped, not recognizing the man before her.
But he did not look at her with affection. Nor was He wasn't here because he loved her. He was here because he was bound. Bound by vows older than kingdoms. Bound to protect the Queen—whether she deserved it or not.
When the first demon lunged. Demeter's hand snapped out, seizing its skull. With a pulse of pure light, the creature evaporated into ash. Another came from behind. He did not turn, just flicked his wing, the razor edge slicing straight through its torso. A third screamed and leapt. Demeter grabbed it mid-air by the throat— SHKK—thenhurled its body into a cluster of six. More demons poured in—twenty, maybe thirty. Shockwaves erupted with each strike.
The bloodhound looked at Rhyssand again. Then released a mournful, retreating howl. The smaller beasts retreated immediately, melting back into shadow like soldiers obeying a silent commander. But the bloodhound lingered. It bent its massive head and sniffed the body of a fallen beast. Its chest no longer rose. The hound's snarl turned feral, grief-stricken. The bloodhound lifted its head—magenta eyes blazing—and howled once more and vanished into the collapsing shadows as an even deeper darkness swallowed the battlefield whole.
"You came?" Ishtar rasped, almost confused.
Without a word, he grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her off the soil.
She winced with a sharp yelp of pain.
With a single, brutal motion, he tossed her toward Azreaphel like she weighed nothing, catching her mid-stumble, surprised.
Demeter's eyes were cold. Finally, he said, "Take the queen to her chambers. Have her healed." His tone was steel.
Azreaphel nodded, then, turning to Rhyssand, he breathed, Traitor," before vanishing with Ishtar through a shimmer of starlight, leaving only dust in his wake.
Now, the two men stood facing one another: Father and son.
Demeter's gaze bore into Rhyssand. As he unfroze him.
Rhyssand's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "He's fucking your wife, you do know what, right ?"
Demeter's voice dropped low. "Mind your—"
"Why!" Rhyssand stepped forward. Anger simmered behind his eyes. "Look at what she's done— And you still protect her?"
"Speak for yourself." Demeter snapped, "Look at what you have done." He motioned to the scorched plains, the broken clouds, the fractured sky. His voice was cold. "You have defied every law imaginable, laws that you are one day going to be bound to! Your kin lie dead. The balance—shattered. Ishtar, I would expect that from. But you— Stop this madness, Rhyssand."
Rhyssand snarled, "She broke it first."
Demeter's voice rose. "Do you think that matters now? When I single-handedly had to send the demon realm back through the cracks you willingly opened up. Do you have any idea what you almost destroyed? Your Family —Your Birthright—Your Home!?"
A bitter silence stretched. Then—Rhyssand's voice, low. Final. "That place is not my home." A pause. "And you are not my father anymore. He died the day you married that monster."
Demeter's expression hardened. "You think love is the answer, boy?" He growled, his voice distorted, reverberating with a power that was ancient and unnatural. "If only it were that simple… Do you know what Love has done to the world? Tiamat thought she loved her children, too, when she nearly wiped everything off the map, and now her reincarnation threatens to follow in her footsteps. I. Will. not. Allow it," he spoke with authority. "Stand down, Rhyssand. This is your last chance." He gripped his spear—the legendary weapon forged by Marduk, the King of the Gods, and his ancestor. It was a weapon of unimaginable power, meant to be passed to Rhyssand, but Demeter had never given it to him. Not yet. Not while he defied heaven.
Rhys gripped his spear tighter, his resolve unshaken.
Without another word, Demeter charged, his spear crackling with the raw power of lightning.
Rhyssand met him head-on, the broken halves of his spear igniting with celestial energy as he blocked his father's strikes.
The two clashed, the sheer force of their blows splitting the heavens.
Rhyssand fought with everything he had. A flicker of déjà-vu crossed his mind; images of his training one-on-one session with his dad when he was younger flashed in his mind, each strike.
"It feels like a game when you make me fight you every day," he shot back, his voice laced with frustration. "Maybe if you spent less time trying to beat me into submission and more time listening to me—"
"Listening?" Demeter interrupted, his wings flaring as his voice rose. "Listening to what, Rhys? Your endless complaints about how unfair life is? About how hard I push you? Do you think the enemies we face will give you a moment to cry about it?"
Against his father, the difference in power was undeniable. Demeter wielded his authority with precision, every strike pushing Rhyssand closer to defeat.
Rhyssand's grip on his sword tightened, his teeth clenched. "Maybe I would not have so much to say if you were not trying to turn me into a copy of you!"
As Rhyssand plummeted from the sky, he crashed into the earth with a thunderous impact. Blood sprayed from his lips as he hit the ground hard.
From above, Demeter descended. The very air seemed to tremble as he landed before his son. But Rhyssand was already pushing himself up, barely steady—yet in time to meet his father's incoming spear. Sparks flew.Steel rang against steel, the earth quaking beneath their feet as power clashed. A flicker of frustration crossed Demeter's face, but he did not falter.
"You have disgraced yourself. Allying with mortals, defying your bloodline…"
Sparks flew as the two clashed, their power shaking the very ground beneath them. The fight escalated, the crowd watching in stunned silence. With every strike, Demeter's frustration grew. His son wasn't faltering. If anything, he was gaining ground.
"You do not understand the weight of your actions!" Demeter shouted, his spear slamming against Rhyssand's defenses.
Rhyssand blocked the blow from Demeter, the force of the clash ringing through the arena.
"If you want to be different," Demeter growled, pushing him back with a series of strikes, "then prove it. Show me that you are more than just words!"
Rhyssand gritted his teeth as Demeter swung his spear, shattering Rhyssand's weapon into pieces.
"Rhyssand—" Artizea screamed, breaking into a sprint.
The broken pieces clattered to the ground, leaving Rhyssand weaponless.
Demeter raised his spear, summoning a surge of lightning that lit up the battlefield like a second sun.
"Meddling in forces you cannot possibly comprehend," his father spat.
"I am going to kill him," a voice called from his mind. "Do you hear me, Rhyssand Rimat —I know you can!"
Rhyssand opened his eyes slightly, catching his breath then. A sharp breath escaped him with a half-chuckled.
"You dare show your face here after challenging me?"
"And you dare dance with me,"
He grit his teeth, one shaking hand digging into the earth—trying to rise.
"Shouldn't you be in heaven, angel—"
"Shouldn't you be in a castle, princess?"
Then A shuddering breath. A spark inside.
"I opened it."
"That's… incredible. How did you—?"
"I am a Ninth-generation descendant, directly from the first King of the Gods. Marduk Rimat."
"Wait, Marduk? As in the Marduk? The one who defeated Tiamat and reshaped the heavens? That Marduk?"
"The very same,"
"That's incredible! You are directly descended from him! That means—"
"That I am powerful," Rhyssand finished, smirking. "Yes, I am aware."
Rhyssand's armor was cracked, his body most likely broken, but his spirit— fueled by the memory of her— her family— remained defiant. With a wince, he forced himself upright, one knee braced, power building in his core. And then an unexpected voice—
"Hey! You! Oversized raven! " Arthur's rang in his mind. Or at least he thought so. Then — "Get the hell up!"
Rhyssand blinked, then willed himself to push on. He winced, pulling himself up, then took one knee up, power building up. He drew a slow breath upon rising fully, stance steady. One last memory—clear and strong in his mind:
"Please." Soft. Measured. Pretty. She tilted her head slightly. "Kind enough for you?"
Rhyssand's gaze fell on his father in pure determination.
"Step aside, Rhyssand," Demeter commanded.
Rhyssand turned to face his father, his chest rising and falling as he got into a stance. "I do not think so," he said.
Demeter stared up at his son, his face a mixture of disbelief.
But as the lightning struck, Rhyssand did not fall. Instead, he caught it—his bare hands absorbing the raw, divine energy as he grinned in pain. Demeter's eyes widened in disbelief. "Impossible…" he muttered.
Even he, the 8th descendant of Marduk, needed the spear to channel such power. Yet his son held the lightning as if it were an extension of himself.
"Seeing that reaction," he whispered to Artizea, his voice filled with amusement, "Is worth every second of exile."
The power surged through Rhyssand, gold veins streaking across his skin as he redirected the lightning. With a growl, he hurled it back at his father.
The impact sent Demeter to his knees, the force of the strike knocking Marduk's spear from his hand. It flew into the air, spinning in slow motion.
Time seemed to pause as the spear glowed brightly. Then it hurtled toward Rhyssand, who extended his hand instinctively. The moment his fingers closed around it, Golden streaks appeared under his eyes, glowing faintly—a mark of royalty, manifesting fully for the first time in centuries.His eyes locked onto his father's as he spoke, "You are the one who must step aside."
Demeter stared up at his son, something almost akin to pride.
"Rhys!"
Rhyssand's head snapped upward. His brows knotted instantly when he saw Fin descending. Artizea was already leaping off the griffin before they even touched the ground, sprinting toward him.
His jaw clenched. "Artizea—go home."
"No," her voice breaking as she reached for him
"Artizea…"
"No."
He dragged a hand down his face. "Must you make everything a fight—" his voice raised, he quickly came back to his senses, as her eyes were already glassy with tears.
"This is my fight—" he said through gritted teeth. "My price to pay."
"Your fight is my fight." She fired back.
He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. He knew better. He always lost this fight.
Artizea swallowed her breath. She should tell him. She had to tell him. Before anything else happened. "There's something I have to tell you—"
Rhyssand stared at her softly as long as he was allowed, catching as her gaze darted over his wounds, as blood seeping from a cut along his brow, dripping along the curve of his cheek. "Tell me when this is over, Princess," he said, a faint smile breaking through. "It would make this all the more worth it."
"Is it not over?"
Then, a low, guttural sound rumbled across the battlefield.
Rhyssand froze as Demeter, kneeling and weakened, began to rise in power, he had never seen before. It was dark and foreboding, the sound of a man who had kept something monstrous hidden beneath the surface. He rose slowly, his body emanating an overwhelming energy that made the air heavy and suffocating.
"For from." He said, shielding Artizea from the awakening. He gripped the spear tighter, his instincts screaming at him to prepare for something far worse than anything he had faced before.
Worse than Artizea's true form.
Worse than Ishtar.
Demeter's form began to shift. His two black wings unfurled, but as Rhyssand watched in horror, another pair of wings emerged, larger and more menacing. His eyes glowed fiercely, but they multiplied, becoming six in total, each burning with celestial light. His body expanded with divine energy, his presence alone enough to send tremors across the battlefield. He had become something far beyond a man or an angel—
"So this is the truth behind our curse," Rhyssand murmured.
Artizea, still weakened but defiant, stood beside Rhyssand, her eyes wide. "Rhys…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"If you refuse to leave Tizea, at least stay behind me," Rhyssand ordered, planting the spear into the ground as a celestial shield formed around them.
Demeter's voice boomed across the battlefield. "Take a good look—This —Is what we are reduced to—This— is what you will become, Should you sit the throne!"
With that, he unleashed a surge of energy, a blinding wave of darkened celestial energy, its purple void that slammed against Rhyssand's shield. The ground cracked, and the air hummed with the sheer intensity of the attack.
Rhyssand gritted his teeth, holding the spear tightly as he poured all his energy into maintaining the shield.
Artizea stood behind him, watching as cracks began to form in the barrier. She tried to help by pressing her hands against it. She could feel his strength waning, his breathing ragged as he took the brunt of Demeter's power all too clearly. Ba dum Ba dum, she shuddered backward as a wave of light pushed her back, "Rhys, stop!" she shouted, her voice breaking as she reached for him. "Together. It is the only way—"
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression pained but resolute. "Artizea… my Artizea," he said softly, his voice carrying a bittersweet tenderness. "Forgive me."
She knew what he was thinking.
"No," she said firmly, her eyes blazing with tears. "I am not leaving you here—"
"Everything I did.. I did it for you…I did it to see you live and grow old…Fulfill Eric'swish to see you happy," he chuckled, then winced. "Fulfill mine for you to live, that's the whole point of this endeavor." The anguish in his gaze broke her heart.
"Rhys, please!" she begged, clutching his arm. "I can't lose you again!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "I just got you back."
Rhyssand's expression softened, a fleeting tenderness cutting through the chaos. He raised a trembling hand, cupping her cheek as his magic faltered for a heartbeat. "You never lost me—" he said softly. "And you never will." He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. Their minds connected, replaying every moment they have spent together, every word, every kiss, for the one they could not have now. Using the last reserves of his power, he whispered an incantation, his voice steady despite the pain.
Rhyssand's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. "I love you, princess," he said, his voice barely audible over the chaos around them.
"I —" Before she could say anything, a surge of light surrounded her, and before she could stop him, she felt the pull of the teleportation spell as the world around her shifted.
The moment she was gone, the shield around Rhyssand shattered. The surge of Demeter's energy slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. The spear slipped from his grasp, landing a few feet away.
Demeter de-transformed, his form shrinking back to its usual imposing yet majestic appearance. He approached his son, who lay on the ground, weakened but glaring up at him with defiance. Two celestial guards descended, binding Rhyssand's hands with glowing chains. As the guards lifted Rhyssand, Demeter turned to retrieve Marduk's spear.
But the moment his hand touched it, nothing happened. The weapon remained inert, its power refusing to answer him. His suspicions were confirmed. The spear no longer resonated with him—for it was no longer the spear of Marduk…it had chosen Rhyssand.
The host of angels surrounded him, their expressions a mixture of pity and reverence.
His father's presence loomed over him, a tidal wave of judgment.
Rhyssand, still bound, coughing up blood, managed a weak smile.
"Sup, Dad.'
Demeter's expression hardened with annoyance.
The celestial council had awakened. Their voices boomed, their judgment swift.
"Rhyssan'dsnezniyah Rimat, prince of Heaven, you have broken the laws of balance. For this, you will pay the ultimate price."
'EXILE!'
Demeter sighed deeply, "I warned you," he said, his voice resonating through every fiber of his sons' being. "You defied your purpose. You were supposed to bring life—you were supposed to be different. Yet you bring death just like her."
Rhyssand closed his eyes, the image of his childhood of Ishtar pulling strings throughout the years. Then to Artizea, his light, his reason, engraved into his mind. He had no regrets.
"You will face judgment. Rhyssand."
His father's voice brought him back to reality. Still, he refused to yield. Bloodied and battered, but his golden eyes were blazing with determination.
"If I must fall, I will fall fighting for her," he spat, his voice filled with defiance.
Demeter hesitated for a fraction of a moment, a flicker of sorrow crossing his face, then it was gone.
With a Gesture, Rhyssand was lifted to his feet, his eyes still locked on his father's.
"You will await trial in prison," Demeter said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
As if it took years to practice such a mask.
With a final stare down, he was taken, vanishing from the battlefield and leaving only silence in his wake.