Bragoz dissolved into red smoke.
The entire forest reacted.
The roots of the Mother Tree relaxed for the first time. The air stopped hurting. The corruption began to withdraw like a tide forced to retreat.
Everyone looked at the rebirth of the Mother Tree.
Everyone… except one person.
Dayana did not see the light.
She did not see the elves fall to their knees in relief.
She did not see the forest heal.
She only saw the smoke.
That red smoke.
Her legs trembled.
Not from weakness.
From rage.
Two years.
Two years carrying that name in her chest like an open wound.
Two years dreaming of tearing his head off with her own hands.
Two years searching for a single opportunity.
And now…
Bragoz was dissolving in front of her without her being able to touch him.
—NO! —Dayana screamed, her voice breaking between rage and despair—. DON'T DISAPPEAR!
She ran toward the smoke.
Passed through it.
Tried to grab it, closing her hands over what remained of him.
But there was nothing.
Only emptiness.
The smoke dissolved between her fingers as if it had never existed.
Dayana fell to her knees.
Her nails sank into the earth.
And then the scream that rose from her chest burst out.
A raw, shattered sound.
So loud it forced the remaining creatures to step back.
So violent that even the forest, for an instant, stopped moving.
Emily stepped forward to approach, but Lusian placed a hand on her shoulder.
—No.
Dayana struck the ground with such force that the root beneath her feet snapped.
—I KILLED HIM! —she screamed—. I WAS THE ONE WHO HAD TO KILL HIM! HE OWED ME!
She stayed trembling for a second.
Then collapsed back onto her knees.
"…you owed me, Bragoz…"
She pressed her forehead against the ground.
Her body trembled as she cried.
Rarely does a vampire cry.
Today she did it as if something inside her had broken for the second time.
Lusian approached without haste.
Dayana did not lift her head.
—Lusian… —she murmured, broken— why?
She paused, swallowing air as if it hurt.
—I wanted to see him beg…
I wanted him to feel the same…
Her voice cracked before she could finish.
Lusian looked at her for a moment.
He did not know how to say it properly.
So he told the truth.
—He did not leave in peace.
Pause.
—And he did not win.
Dayana breathed, trembling.
Lusian lowered his voice slightly.
—Your father is no longer in that place.
Silence.
—This doesn't fix it… but it's over.
Dayana closed her eyes.
The tears did not stop, but her breathing began to steady.
—I wanted to do it myself… —she whispered.
Lusian exhaled through his nose.
—Yes.
Pause.
—But he fell.
Another pause.
—And you are still here.
Dayana slowly opened her eyes.
The red stabilized again in her gaze.
She stood up with effort.
—Thank you…
Pause.
—But if he ever exists again… I'll break him myself.
Lusian let out a dry laugh, without joy.
He collapsed into a seated position, completely exhausted.
Blood still in his mouth.
He looked at the ground.
—All yours… —he murmured.
A green pulse ran through the massive trunk of the Mother Tree, rising in a spiral as if something ancient inside it had remembered how to breathe.
The leaves blackened by corruption slowly detached, falling like living ash, but upon touching the ground they did not die—instead they transformed into emerald sprouts that immediately grew, as if the forest refused to remain in decay.
The elves, wounded and exhausted after the battle, stood frozen without knowing how to react, because what they were witnessing was not a healing technique nor a purification spell, but something far deeper that rewrote the very state of the forest itself.
Then they felt it.
The forest spoke to them again.
Not as a voice, but as a presence that passed through both air and ground at the same time, as if every tree, root, and leaf were breathing in unison for the first time in years.
A warm wind crossed the battlefield, carrying pure mana that did not violently attack corruption, but replaced it, dissolving it by substitution, stabilizing what could still be saved.
The elves' wounds stopped worsening, and the corruption within their bodies slowly retreated, just enough for the pain to become bearable again.
Grisela fell to her knees without resistance, tears running down her face without her trying to stop them, because for the first time in a long time she was not witnessing the forest's destruction, but its recovery.
—It returned… —she whispered, her voice broken by relief—. The forest… returned…
The other elves instinctively followed her gesture and bowed their heads before the Mother Tree, with a mixture of reverence and recognition: something they believed lost had returned to existence.
Far away, among roots rising like natural pillars and living structures formed from ancient sap, a figure slowly stood within a sanctuary that seemed to have grown around his presence.
Aeltherion observed in silence.
His body was composed of ancient leaves and luminous sap, and his eyes reflected an entire forest contained within a human form, as if each of his gazes belonged to a different season of the world.
He had witnessed the entire battle without intervening, not because he could not, but because it was not his role to decide its outcome.
His gaze lingered on the place where Bragoz had disappeared, and after a long silence, he spoke with absolute coldness that contained neither rage nor satisfaction, only evaluation.
—Useless demon.
It was not an emotional insult, but a conclusion, as if he had observed an error that the world had already corrected on its own.
Without adding anything else, he turned away, and the living sanctuary responded to his presence by opening as if the tree itself recognized his authority, allowing him to enter.
The bark slowly closed behind him without resistance, as if no opening had ever existed.
The forest breathed more calmly.
But the war was not over; it had only changed form.
Thunder snorted, exhausted after the battle, while the steam of his breath mixed with the clean air the forest had regained.
Emily slowly collapsed to the ground and looked up at the sky filtered through the reborn leaves, as if needing to confirm with her own eyes that it was not an illusion.
Elizabeth remained silent, feeling the demon mana within her vibrate unstably against the purity of the environment, as if the forest now rejected any impurity more strongly than before.
Dayana licked a fang, looking at Lusian with a mixture of exhaustion and restrained satisfaction.
—Lusian…
—No —he replied immediately, without looking at her—. Don't speak. Just… give me a minute.
But he didn't get that minute.
Grisela advanced toward him under the watchful gaze of the elves, who still held their bows tensely by instinct, unable to fully abandon the war they had just lived through.
Lusian raised his sword without thinking, driven more by instinct than necessity.
Grisela raised a hand and ordered her people to lower their weapons. The elves obeyed, though with a slight delay, as if their combat instinct had not yet accepted that the war was over.
Then she stepped forward until she stood before him.
And she bowed.
Not as a queen before allies, but as someone who, after fighting on the same side of the abyss, understands that distrust no longer carries the same weight.
Only as one who recognizes an impossible debt.
—On behalf of all the children of the forest… thank you for returning our home.
Lusian let out a tired breath.
—I didn't do it for you.
Grisela held his gaze without moving.
—I know… but thank you anyway.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Lusian found no immediate response.
The Mother Tree stood behind them all, fully restored, its leaves shining under a natural light that seemed older than time itself. Sap flowed strongly, and the entire forest breathed as if it had survived a disease that could no longer return.
But Lusian was not looking at victory.
He was looking at what was not there.
The fruit.
The one he had seen so many times in his memory of the game.
The one that should only be born under specific conditions.
It did not appear.
And it would not appear.
Because the Mother Tree did not weep.
And without its tears, the cycle that gave birth to that fruit would never begin.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, realizing too late what that meant.
Emily stepped toward Lusian, firmer than before, as if she had decided to support him even if he did not ask for it.
—Lusian… you can't carry this alone. You did the impossible. You saved the forest. You saved the elves. Their home.
Elizabeth approached from the other side.
—There's nothing to fix here. We just… survived. Don't worry about me, we'll find another way.
Emily placed a hand on his shoulder.
—Not everything has to go the way you planned, right?
Elizabeth looked directly at him, not harshly, but without letting him escape.
—And most importantly… I don't want you putting yourself in danger again.
Lusian lowered his head.
He had no way to refute those words.
The forest continued to shine around them, alive, complete, reborn.
But that did not change the only thing that mattered in his mind.
He had arrived too late to the only thing he needed.
At dawn the day Lusian departed, the forest was still silent.
The elves lit small fires around the outer roots of the Mother Tree. They spoke only as much as necessary. Their movements were slow, careful, as if any sound could disturb something still finishing its healing.
They shared simple food and mana-infused water with the group, allowing them to rest without questions or probing looks. There was no celebration in their gestures, but neither was there distance. It was a shared presence, as if everyone understood that this place was still learning to exist again.
Lusian did not sleep.
He sat against a living root, feeling the pulse of the Mother Tree behind his back like a deep heartbeat still searching for rhythm.
Before dawn, Grisela approached alone.
In her hands she carried a bundle of silver leaves sealed with hardened sap. She did not extend it immediately, as if merely showing it was enough.
—The Tree did not bear fruit —she said softly.
She paused briefly, looking at the bundle before continuing.
—But it did produce something again.
She opened the leaves carefully.
Inside was a seed.
Dark, smooth, barely warm, without shine or visible power. It did not react to mana or respond to light. It was so small it seemed irrelevant, yet its existence was undeniable.
When Lusian took it, the environment seemed to pause for an instant, not like a magical event, but as if the forest itself recognized that something new had been recorded in its history.
Grisela spoke without taking her eyes off the seed.
—It won't grow here for now. Maybe it will never grow as we expect. But it is alive.
Lusian closed his hand around it.
He said nothing.
He only kept it.