Frozen Paths, Burning Skies
Mithra's bare fingers glowed faintly as she pressed a fragment to the frozen ice. A tiny portal pulsed in the darkness.
Mithra (straining): "Father… Atreus… I can… bring you back…"
But the connection flickered like a dying star. The rift quaked, and her knees buckled. Kratos caught her before she collapsed.
Kratos (low): "You're pushing yourself too hard."
Mithra (weakly smiling): "It's the only way. I won't leave him."
Kratos looked into her eyes and, for a moment, saw the fierce devotion of his own son staring back at him.
Infernal Drift
Meanwhile, molten rock trembled beneath Asura's feet as Atreus placed a fragment into a circle of glowing runes.
Atreus: "Mithra's trying to reach us. I can feel it. We just have to hold on a little longer."
Asura spat to the side, steam rising where his saliva hit the stone.
Asura: "Hmph. Tell her not to worry. I've been through worse."
Atreus: "She knows. That's why she's worried."
Asura's teeth clenched tight. His arms crackled with residual cosmic energy.
Asura: "If Eon thinks separating us will win him this fight… he doesn't know who he's dealing with."
The Reunite
A roar like a cosmic storm split the heavens. Frozen winds collided with volcanic heat in a deafening explosion of steam and swirling sparks. For a moment, the shattered realms twisted together—a bridge of raw power glowing like a comet's tail.
Out of the blinding mist, Kratos strode forward, his jaw set, the Leviathan Axe still steaming with frost. Behind him clung Mithra, her white hair whipping in the chaotic wind.
On the other side, Asura emerged, flames spiraling around his body, cosmic tattoos pulsing with life. Beside him sprinted Atreus, eyes wide, staff at the ready.
Then—time seemed to catch its breath.
Mithra's eyes widened. Her lips parted in a gasp. She broke into a sprint across the frost-slick stone.
Mithra: "FATHER!"
Asura dropped to one knee as she flung herself into him, wrapping her slender arms around his massive neck. Though his arms were gone, he bent low, pressing his forehead to hers. The glow from his cosmic marks flickered gently, like stars pulsing in a night sky.
Asura (hoarse, gentle): "Are you hurt?"
Mithra (breathless, smiling through tears): "No… I'm fine. Master Kratos saved me."
Kratos blinked. His stern features softened, if only slightly. Atreus bounded to his side, panting, sweat streaking his face.
Without a word, Kratos laid one massive hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing firmly. For a fraction of a second, there was a warmth in his eyes—a fleeting ember of paternal pride.
Atreus (breathing hard): "I'm okay, Father. Asura… he never left me behind. We fought together."
Kratos stared across the swirling mist at Asura. Asura returned the gaze, breathing heavily, the rage in his eyes dimmed by exhaustion—and something else. Something closer to understanding.
Both men seemed frozen—two titans who had warred against gods, now caught off guard by kindness from a former enemy.
The wind howled around them, carrying flecks of ice and cinders in glittering spirals. For a moment, it was as though the entire world leaned closer to listen.
Then Asura spoke, voice raw.
Asura: "I… can't thank you enough for looking after her."
Kratos drew in a deep breath, his scarred brow furrowing.
Kratos (quietly): "Likewise."
Asura's eyes fell to the ground. When he lifted them again, they shone like molten gold.
Asura: "Guess… we both were wrong after all."
Kratos nodded slowly, a single exhale leaving his chest like steam from a forge.
Kratos: "You're right. You are not my enemy."
Asura (firmly): "Neither are you."
A faint glow began spiraling from Asura's back, coiling upward like a cosmic serpent. In a shimmer of blue-white light, the energy condensed and shaped itself into a phantom arm—a perfect replica of his right arm, etched with glowing mantra lines.
He extended the spectral limb, palm open, toward Kratos.
Kratos regarded the shimmering hand for a long moment. Then he stepped forward and grasped it firmly in his own right hand. The contact sent a low pulse of energy through the air—like thunder muffled beneath the ocean.
For a heartbeat, the two warriors stood locked in that handshake, eyes unflinching. It was not merely an agreement—it was the sealing of a bond forged through blood, loss, and the shared burden of fatherhood.
Around them, the wind fell silent. Steam drifted away like a departing spirit.
Mithra leaned against Asura's massive shoulder, eyes shining. Atreus stood tall beside Kratos, gripping his staff, pride and relief blazing across his young face.
Atreus (softly, to Mithra): "Looks like our dads finally figured it out."
Mithra (smiling): "About time."