Havoc raised an arm over his eyes against a blinding radiance oscillating from Shar's floating body. A savage force drove him backward, his boots carving trails across the shattered tiles of the inner sanctum.

'What fresh devilry is this?' Anton called out as he was swept from his feet. With a heavy grunt, he landed on his back, waves of concussive energy sending him skidding away from the Seer's glaring light.

'Hush a moment. I'm nearly done,' Annalise shushed, her features hidden by the brilliance.

The hall thrummed with iniquitous might. The air was charged as though on the eve of a storm—lightning forks and blasts of thunder. The Seer began chanting words indecipherable, and with her voice came billowing smog. Emerald clouds engulfed Shar's floating corpse, twisting her form like an ephemeral serpent—consuming yet consumed—as the jade-green smoke rushed down her open mouth. Yet as she was filled, she shrank.

Her skin paled, and bones snapped like brittle wood. As the chanting intensified, the Seer's voice carrying over the roar of gushing wind, Shar's transformation quickened. Her broken ribs jutted from her chest like a spider's legs, but where blood should have spilled, clear fluid reeking of iron and rot poured instead. The liquid froze upon the ground, then rose again to engulf her.

Mangled and deformed, Shar's corpse lay frozen in crystal. Unwavering devotion marked her expression even in death, and her unseeing eyes flared with cold resolve. The crystal contracted, condensed, and the Seer's final disciple vanished, fused into a rectangular slate of glass and shattered bone held delicately between the Seer's fingers.

The pulsations faltered and ceased. The rattling shards of broken tiles stilled at Havoc's feet as the cloud of dust and shattered marble thinned, gently drifting toward the ground and curling softly around his heels. For an instant, no one moved, all gazes locked onto Annalise. But as the terrible power receded from the hall, Anton, whip raised high overhead, charged at the Seer.

'Oh, don't be silly,' Annalise sighed. She casually waved her hand, lifting Anton from his feet with a pulse of unseen force.

'Undo it! Undo all of this!' Anton roared, veins in his neck bulging as he strained against his invisible binds.

'I have to say, I didn't think it'd be you,' Annalise remarked, her forefinger tapping against her upper lip. 'You stayed with the girl the other times. Curious—what could have changed?' She hummed softly, the ground crunching beneath her boots as she stepped toward the levitating man, before shifting her gaze to Naereah and Havoc in turn as the Selenarian clung to his arm.

'You saved the girl—bested fate. May I assume this matter settled?' the Seer asked, her tone curling with a maidenly lilt. 'Certainly, people died—but no one you cared about. Job well done, I suppose?' A smirk lifted her eyes.

Havoc was not deaf to her subtle provocation; he simply did not care. Perhaps it was the waves of fatigue finally overtaking him as he dropped to his knees, hands trembling as adrenaline drained from his veins—perhaps it was the lingering darkness tugging at the back of his mind, its influence elusive, shadows draped in shadows, yet undeniable. But as he felt Naereah's delicate fingers softly fold around his arm, helping him stand, he reached an altogether different conclusion: it was enough to protect what was his.

He had saved Naereah from the Temptress and used her against the nobles—his face flushing at the memory of her lips firmly pressed against his own. Yet from the start, he had known the Seer meant her harm. Challenging fate—his fate—was his objective, and in that he had triumphed. Annalise had implicated him in all her deeds, leaving mercenaries without even a corpse for their loved ones to grieve. It was enough. He would not be made complicit in another of her schemes.

Saving one was enough.

Just the one he was responsible for.

Only the one he had used—not for her sake, but for his own. There was no victory in mirroring the cruelties that had wounded him. He did not have to protect everyone. It was enough to claw from fate what belonged to him. His own conviction—that was his alone to preserve, and it would not be seized from his grasp.

Annalise moved toward him, her smirk never drooping from her lips, yet a steely glint cut across her ocean-blue eyes as she rested a hand on Havoc's shoulder, her gaze shifting pointedly to Naereah.

'Your preference for this girl has cost me something very difficult to replace,' Annalise said, her voice softening even as her smile deepened. 'Let's hope we don't both come to regret your predilections.' Her eyes warped strangely, as though briefly alight, as she held his gaze.

'Ah, what's done is done,' she sighed lightly. 'Come along, you three. It's about time to leave this dreary place.'

Waving her hand once again, she released Anton unceremoniously onto the ground, then continued calmly toward an arched exit of the sanctum.

'Wait!' Anton cried, scrambling back to his feet, an arm desperately extended toward the Seer. 'He was right, wasn't he?' He pointed shakily toward Franklin's corpse, blood still pooling from his severed throat. 'You're a regressor—aren't you?'

'Yes, that's right,' Annalise replied without slowing.

'Then it's not too late,' Anton whispered, his tone hurried, hand balling into a tight fist. 'Then you can save them—all of them!'

'Oh, don't be absurd,' Annalise sighed gently, continuing onward without pause.

'But—but it's not too late,' Anton whispered hurriedly, voice trembling as he stepped toward the Seer. 'You can save them! Make it so none of this ever happened!'

'No, dear Anton. It is very much too late,' Annalise said lightly, almost playful, as she paused to face him fully. 'Greedy as I can be, I wanted it all—full marks, everything exactly as planned.' She sighed softly, smiling gently as though soothing a child. 'But even I can't have everything I want.'

Havoc watched Anton's shoulders slump, his eyes downcast as his hulking frame trembled—whether from anguish or rage, Havoc could not tell. With a deep, guttural growl, Anton surged forward once more.

'I don't accept this!' he roared, lunging at the Seer.

Annalise sighed softly, almost bored. She barely raised a finger as Anton was suspended mid-air, muscles straining futilely against invisible bonds.

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Then, with a gentle tilt of her head, she glanced toward Havoc. 'Does this one mean anything to you?'

'He doesn't have to die,' Havoc replied evenly, holding the Seer's gaze.

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Annalise sighed. Her lips twisted into a guileful pout, and she spoke:

'Fine. But you'll have to carry him.' She raised her hand casually, then allowed it to drop, sending Anton crashing into the ground with a gut-wrenching crunch.

He's still breathing, Havoc thought as he bundled the unconscious man into his arms, holding him as though a new born babe.

Together with Naereah, he followed the Seer from the inner sanctum.

****

Beneath a glass dome, rays of golden resplendence showered down, cascading through the temple's atrium as the morning sun filtered through the glass above. The light fell gently upon the fungal grass, illuminating strange and wondrous flowers that drifted across the interior garden like spores, dispersed from the potted plants lining the perimeter of the enclosure.

In the quiet beneath the dome, Naereah sat opposite Havoc, her eyes cast toward the subtle movements of her feet. She raised her gaze hesitantly, catching his eyes for an instant, only to swiftly look away again as heat flushed through her cheeks.

Again, he had saved her. Not because of prophecy—this was far better. It was simply who he was: her promised hero, one she had promised to herself. She had believed the Seer's lies because she had believed in the boy. Had that not been true from the moment he defied the White Temptress? Even after the Seer's promises shattered into empty illusion, Havoc remained. Unyielding. Inevitable. Her promised hero—the one she would claim as her own.

Yet here she was, embarrassed to even meet his gaze.

I can't truly claim him as mine if I can't even bear to look at him, she thought, embarrassment curling her fingertips tightly against her thighs.

After leaving the inner sanctum, Annalise had led them toward a treasury. Without protest, the Seer had claimed the lion's share, but the rest she had left to Havoc and Naereah.

Before being exiled and sold into slavery, Naereah had been royalty among her people—hailing from an ancient lineage that predated their descent into the Dungeon by millennia. Yet even by the standards of her upbringing, the treasures hidden within the temple left her eyes widening, her mouth agape.

Forsaking the Hungry Chest, she had bound the Bountiful Coffer to her Spirit Chain, then proceeded to fill the Remnant with precious metals, gleaming jewels, Harmonically preserved organs and bones, alongside recipe scrolls detailing the processing of potions and Fragments.

Even the portion Annalise had neglected was enough to rival the yearly earnings of a minor noble household. They would soon leave the Dungeon Cell, and they would do so with wealth beyond imagining.

Yet despite their fortune, she was not concerned with what she would buy with her wealth—she cared only for who she would spend her time with.

Just ask him, she silently chastised herself, her fists clenching tight around the skirt of her dress.

Before they could leave the Cell, one thing remained—the Tears of Desire.

Across the interior garden, Annalise stood before the statue of a winged serpent, its marbled form motionless yet vivid, as though it lived and breathed. Naereah did not know how long it would take to draw a tear from the stone, but it would not be long before they stepped onto the raised dais in the centre of the atrium—whisked away from the Cell, and returned to their lives.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Perhaps they would have, had Havoc not looked at her in that moment, his steely gaze silencing her.

Breathing deeply, she regathered her resolve, yet before she could speak, Havoc stole the words forming on her lips.

'Do you know what you'll do when we leave this place?' he asked, light from above bathing him in golden hues, burning too bright to look at directly.

'I—I don't,' she stammered, her gaze returning to her feet, the fungal grass tickling the space between her three-pronged toes.

Stop being silly—just ask him to take you with him, she commanded herself.

'I see,' Havoc said, his chin tilting upward, lips tightening into a frown.

'Um,' Naereah managed before being cut off by Havoc's continued speech.

'You'll probably want to return to your people, wouldn't you?' Havoc said,, causing her Naereah's face to drop as she felt her heart sink into her gut. 'Once we divide our share, I'll try help find transportation. It's just—'

'What about you?' Naereah interrupted quickly, finally finding the resolve to meet his eyes. 'Where will you go?'

Havoc's frown deepened. He hesitated a moment, his fingers combing through his raven-black hair as he sighed.

'That's just it—I'm not sure. I need to find my sister. But I can't stay on the eighth floor, I know that much. I just can't decide whether it's better to flee to the Vanguard or seek refuge with the Enforcers.'

Another sigh broke from his lips—the same lips Naereah longed to taste once more.

'No—that's not true. I've already decided. I just don't like it. If it were just me, I'd risk the Vanguard. I'll have a Soldier's Inheritance once we get out of here. From what I understand, that's what it takes to survive the lower floors. But I doubt I could keep Hurricane safe down there with me.'

'The Enforcers,' Naereah said quickly. 'Yeah! I've been meaning to join them. It just makes sense—you know, if we joined together.'

Havoc stared at her for a moment before he smiled, sending heat rushing to Naereah's cheeks, her heart blooming like a flower in spring.

'Or you could both come with me?' Annalise hummed. 'All three of you, even,' she added, casting a glance toward Anton, who lay unconscious on the ground.

'No,' Naereah and Havoc said at the same time.

'Suit yourself,' Annalise shrugged before tossing a vial toward Naereah. The glass slipped through her fingers as she scrambled to catch it, barely keeping it from falling.

'As promised, the Tears of Desire. With that, you'll attain complete Harmonic purity,' the Seer said smoothly.

Words of gratitude almost escaped Naereah's lips, but she swallowed them down. They had made powerful enemies within the Dungeon-Cell, and she did not want to count the Seer among them. But Annalise had deceived her, kidnapped her, and tried to sacrifice her. Naereah would not thank her.

'Well then, bon voyage,' Annalise said as she hovered above the ground, gliding toward the raised platform. As she approached the steps, she turned to face Havoc. 'Six years—not a day longer. That's how long you should remain with the Enforcers.'

With a final curtsy, she spun on her heels, her skirt twirling around her, then vanished from the Cell as she stepped onto the dais.

'Ready to go?' Havoc asked.

As long as we're going together, Naereah wanted to say—but she settled for a nod.

Havoc pushed himself from his seat and walked toward Anton.

Naereah's heart went cold.

The blood drained from her face as a blade shot out from the arched entrance of the atrium, piercing through Havoc's chest.

His breath hitched. For a moment, he didn't even react—just stood there, staring down at the steel protruding from his body, as though his mind refused to register what had happened.

Naereah let out a strangled gasp, hands flying to her mouth.

He was supposed to be dead.

From the shadows beyond the archway, a figure stepped forward.

Ugly smiled. The same cocky grin—only this time, there was something else lurking behind his eyes.

'Didn't I tell ya, kid? I'm gonna kill ya.'

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