Smoke.
Ash.
A storm of glyphs clashed with blades forged from memory.
Lucien's mother stood tall—obsidian dagger in hand—as three Soul Guardians closed in.
They struck like lightning.
She moved like thunder.
Every step rewrote the ground beneath her feet.
"You were warned," one Guardian hissed.
"I ignored you," she said, unshaken. "For my daughter."
This wasn't a battle of strength—
It was a battle of will.
She didn't win.
But she didn't fall either.
As the last Guardian faded—wounded, not slain—the earth cracked.
Glyphs surged. Reality trembled.
She dropped to one knee, gasping.
And the Soul Realm answered.
Chains of spectral light wrapped around her wrists, ankles, throat.
Not as punishment—
But as containment.
"You broke the code," the Realm whispered.
"Now you must wait for release."
And just like that—
She was sealed.
Not in stone.
Not in fire.
But in silence.
A conscious soul, locked in a hidden chamber.
Watching.
Waiting.
For the one with the right aura to set her free.
Lucien found that chamber.
Two Guardians lay lifeless.
A third was missing.
Her footsteps echoed.
Her breath slowed.
Her eyes turned red.
"Where is she?" she whispered.
The Soul Realm trembled.
Lightning crackled beneath her. The walls pulsed like a heartbeat.
The chamber recognized her—
Not as a guest…
But as a Master.
The true student of the Great Shaman.
And yet…
The Realm answered coldly:
"She broke the code.
Not even you…
Not even the Shaman…
can defy the law."
Lucien dropped to her knees, her mother's spirit fading in her arms.
Blood in her tears.
Magic in her scream.
Grief in her silence.
Her mother reached out, voice no more than a breath:
"Find him…"
Lucien froze.
"Your father.
He will protect you."
And then—
She was gone.
Gone, not as a warrior…
But as a mother who gave everything.
Lucien remained in silence—
Alone in the heart of the Soul Realm—
With empty arms and a storm rising in her chest.