POV: Thalor
The throne of the Divine Realm did not just sit upon the cosmos; it was the anchor for every thread of existence. For eons, I have maintained the celestial balance with an iron will, ensuring the duality of Light and Darkness remained unblurred.
Then, the shockwave hit.
It was a jagged, golden tear in the fabric of the silence. In my mind's eye, I saw the rebirth cycle—the one I had so meticulously engineered to end in quiet misfortune—shatter. The stars in the Realm of Light flickered, their brilliance dimmed by a sudden, rivaling sun on Earth.
"She has awakened," I whispered, the words causing the marble floors of the High Temple to hairline fracture. "And the threads are unraveling.".
I felt Kael's hesitation like a cold needle in my palm. My loyal executioner, a man I had stripped of his very heritage to make him my own, was wavering. And August... the Light Aetherial I had already cast down once for his softness.
With a snap of my fingers, I gripped the tether of Kael's soul. He was a creature of my making now, bound by a debt of immortality. I pulled. The space beside my throne distorted as I tore him from the Earth, leaving August and the girl alone in the debris of their defiance.
I looked down at the swirling mists of the mortal realm. I had purged the Elarin once; I would not let their fate-altering essence undo the order I had built. If my reapers would not strike, I would turn the very heavens against them.
POV: Esmeralda (Esme)
My skin felt too small. Inside my chest, a fire was roaring, but it didn't burn; it remembered.
Through the haze of the hospital room, I didn't see white walls or hear the screech of the alarms. I saw a city of glass and song—the Elarin homeland—drowning in a Great Collapse. I saw a thousand versions of myself falling, dying of fevers, accidents, and "misfortune," always with a man in the shadows watching me with eyes full of regret.
"Breathe," an ancient voice whispered in the back of my mind. "The threads are yours now.".
I looked at my arm. Beneath the skin of my forearm, a mark was glowing—a geometric lattice of light that pulsed like a second heart. It felt like a beacon. I looked at the man standing over me—August. He looked terrified, vulnerable, his wings of shadow trembling.
"I remember the garden," I rasped, the memories blurring with the cold reality of the room. "And I remember you letting me go.".
POV: August D
Kael was gone. One moment he was collapsing in agony, and the next, he vanished into a rift of pure, divine fury. Thalor had reclaimed his pawn.
I looked at Esme. The mark on her arm was unmistakable—the Sigil of the Weaver. It was a sign to every Aetherial in existence that the last Elarin had ascended. She wasn't just a soul anymore; she was the key to undoing everything Thalor had built.
Panic, sharp and human, flared in my chest. I had defied the Creator. I had protected the very soul I was sent to reap. There was no going back to the Realm of Darkness, and the Realm of Light would never take back a traitor.
"We have to move," I said, reaching for her hand. My fingers brushed the mark on her arm, and a jolt of visceral pain and love nearly brought me to my knees. "He knows where you are. He'll send the entire host if he has to."
I closed my eyes, searching the discarded memories of my time as a Light Aetherial. There was a place—a sanctuary mentioned in the oldest celestial laws, hidden in the folds of the Earth where even Thalor's gaze could not easily penetrate. A place for the fallen and the forgotten.
"I'm not leaving you," I whispered, more to myself than her. I had spent a thousand lifetimes watching her die. This time, I would be the one who stayed.