The aftermath of the dragon's fall left a silence too heavy for words.
Where the +A-Rank gate had ruptured into chaos and blood, only stillness remained. Magic didn't stir. The air didn't hum. Even the birds that once circled the distant cliffs were nowhere to be seen.
Lirien stood at the center of the scorched crater, her breath calm. White hair drifting like silk in the wind, crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the fading light. The remnants of the dragon had turned to ash around her feet. Its roar—something that once echoed through the heavens—was now only a whisper fading into the void.
Across the battlefield, Zian approached slowly. Her golden eyes held more than awe—they held memory. Recognition.
"You made a pact with him," Zian said softly.
Lirien didn't flinch. "I did. I don't regret it."
"And now?" Zian asked, stopping just a few feet away.
Lirien looked at her hands—gloved, stained with the blood of gods and monsters. "Now I feel like I could rewrite the sky."
Before Zian could respond, shadows curled and bent. Kaen stepped from nothing, the void retreating like a curtain behind him. His gaze moved between the two women, unreadable.
"They felt that across continents," he said. "Even in the hidden places."
"They'll come looking," Zian murmured.
"They already are," Kaen replied.
Just then, far above the island, unseen by those below, a white crow circled once. Its feathers shimmered with a pearlescent gleam. Its eyes were deep pools of knowing.
It turned, gliding into the heavens, wings spreading with a beat that stirred ancient winds.
Far beyond the clouds, it reached the white expanse of Deepa's part of heaven—a forgotten corner of the divine realm, where no war had ever touched. There, it landed on a vast ivory tree, roots coiled around starlight.
The crow tilted its head, then spoke in a voice that echoed through realms.
"He has returned."
The leaves trembled.
And far below, Kaen looked up—not with worry, but with a small, knowing smile.