Every instinct screamed at her to turn her beast aside, to vanish into the clouds, to flee from the eyes of one who had shattered stronger wills than hers.

But then, Anita did something wholly unexpected.

She smiled with a gentle nod.

Subtle.

Barely perceptible.

But enough.

Raelana blinked in disbelief, her hands tightening against the beast's feathers.

She hadn't met Anita in person or had an audience with her since her joining the Spire, and for a second she thought Anita would drag her down; instead, she just smiled at her.

Raelana's mind swirled with questions for a minute, but she shook her head and decided to quickly leave from here.

Whatever that smile meant, she shouldn't hover over them anymore.

Her beast leveled up, soaring with speed, and Raelana exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Her frown deepened, lines of thought cutting across her face.

Why was Anita traveling with the Chosen? Why lead soldiers through this stretch of wilderness, far from any known front? What destination lay ahead that warranted both the witches and the heroes themselves?

She turned her gaze forward, eyes narrowing as the winds rushed past her ears.

The path they marched was the same path she herself had intended to follow.

Raelana's thoughts tightened like a coiled spring.

"Don't tell me they are ahead towards the same destination as me."

***

Consciousness returned slowly, like light filtering through layers of deep water.

Jaenor's eyelids twitched as awareness gradually seeped back into his exhausted mind, his body fighting against the pull of sleep even as part of him desperately wanted to remain in that peaceful darkness where nothing hurt and nothing needed to be questioned.

When he finally managed to force his eyes open, the first thing he saw was a ceiling—wooden beams crossed with familiar patterns, aged timber that had sheltered him through countless nights over the past few months.

His face wrinkled deeply as confusion filled his mind.

Recognition hit him like a physical blow, and a frown creased his features as he realized exactly where he was.

This was their house.

The small, cozy dwelling on the shores of the harbor city where he and Odessa had made their home, where they had shared quiet evenings by the fire and whispered conversations in the dark. The place where he had learned to trust, to love, and to believe that perhaps the world held some kindness for someone like him.

Confusion clouded his thoughts as he tried to reconcile what he was seeing with what he remembered.

Hadn't he been in the town nearby the fortress?

Hadn't there been a battle, two power entities tearing reality apart, and revelations that had shattered everything he thought he knew about the woman he desired?

He tried to sit up, his muscles protesting the movement, but a gentle hand pressed against his shoulder, keeping him prone.

"You need rest, Jaenor," a familiar voice said softly.

"Don't get up."

Jaenor's head turned toward the speaker, and his breath caught in his throat.

There she was—Odessa, exactly as she had always appeared to him.

Silver-streaked hair falling in gentle waves around a face that held the perfect balance of wisdom and beauty, green eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern.

No mystically twisted transformation, no revelation of ancient power, just the woman he had fallen in love with sitting beside his bed like she had during his recovery from previous adventures.

"Yes, it's me," she said, noting his stunned expression.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Jaenor's confusion only deepened.

The concerned tone, the familiar setting, the way she looked at him with what seemed like authentic affection—it all felt so real, so normal.

But the memories of what had transpired in the town square burned in his mind with crystal clarity. He couldn't believe what he was seeing even though it seemed too true to not believe. Everything around him felt real—her touch, the house, the smell of the sea nearby, and the sounds of the seagulls. Everything around made him doubt the reality that had happened.

"Wait," he muttered, his voice hoarse with sleep and uncertainty.

"Didn't he... aren't you... Lordess Magdalyna?"

The name fell from his lips like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of recognition through the peaceful atmosphere of the cabin.

"What are you talking about, Jaenor?"

"There was…" He caught his head, pain throbbing through him as he groaned.

"He said you were Magdalyna." He repeated the words, as the name kept ringing in his head.

For a long moment, Odessa simply stared at him, her green eyes searching his face as if looking for something specific.

Finally, she sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"I thought you would forget it," she admitted quietly.

"I thought it was better if you didn't know my identity. My real one. I thought... I hoped you didn't care."

"Is this not enough?"

Jaenor struggled to process her words, his mind still reeling from the implications.

"I mean, not if you're some evil lady who wants to destroy everything you see," he said, his voice carrying a note of desperate hope that she would laugh, would tell him it was all some misunderstanding.

To his surprise, she did chuckle—a soft, melodious sound that was achingly familiar.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, bewildered by her reaction to such a serious question.

Her expression softened, taking on a tenderness that made his heart clench with remembered emotion.

"You remember saying that you didn't care about anything about me, just that you wanted me," she replied, her voice carrying the echo of countless intimate conversations they had shared.

The memory hit him like a physical blow.

He had said those words months ago, when she had tried to warn him away, when she had hinted that her past held shadows he might not be able to accept. He had been so certain then, so sure that whatever secrets she carried couldn't change how he felt about her.

But that was before he had learned the true scope of those secrets.

Her expression grew serious again, the moment of tenderness fading as she seemed to sense his internal struggle.

"Jaenor—"

"I... need to process all of this," he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

"I don't know... I..."

The words failed him as he tried to articulate the chaos of emotions warring in his chest. Love, betrayal, confusion, hope, despair—all of it tangled together in a knot that seemed impossible to unravel.

"Jaenor—" Odessa began again, reaching toward him with the same gentle gesture she had used to comfort him through so many difficult moments.

But before she could complete the motion, the world exploded into chaos.

The building around them began to shake violently, timber groaning and stone cracking as if some titanic force was tearing at the very foundations of reality. With a sound like the death cry of mountains, one entire wall of the cabin was ripped away as if it were made of paper.

In the gap where their sanctuary had stood, a massive face appeared—gore-red skin stretched over features that belonged in the deepest nightmares of mad gods.

Draelusa, the Sin of Pride, filled the opening with his malevolent presence, his burning eyes fixed on the two figures in the bed with predatory hunger.

He growled—a sound that seemed to come from the throat of the abyss itself, full of malice and cruel amusement at having found his quarry once again.

"Jaenor," Odessa said urgently, her voice carrying undertones of power that made the air around them shimmer with barely contained force.

"That incompetent, bastardly leech!" Odessa cursed.

Then she turned to Jaenor and said, "Jaenor."

"I will meet you again."

"Until then, just don't think too much about what that demon bastard said."

But even as she spoke, the world around them began to fracture and dissolve.

The familiar cabin, the comfortable bed, and even Odessa herself began to break apart like a reflection in shattering glass.

Reality crumbled at the edges, revealing the infinite darkness that lay beneath all things.

Jaenor felt himself falling, tumbling through layers of collapsing dreams and dissolving memories, down into a darkness so complete that it seemed to swallow not just light but the very concept of illumination itself.

He felt himself plunging into a bottomless abyss, the pit of darkness swallowing him whole.

The light bled away from his sight, his vision dimming until only shadow remained. A numbness crept through his body, heavy and merciless, until even the act of drawing breath felt impossible. He tried to kick, to fight, to claw his way free—but his limbs betrayed him, stiff and useless, as though the darkness had already claimed them.

The void tightened around him, pulling, consuming, unraveling every shred of his being. His cries broke from his throat, raw and desperate, yet they were devoured instantly, smothered by the silence of that endless night.

In the abyss, he was nothing—only a scream fading into the maw of darkness.

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