The sky was no longer sky.
It had turned red — a dying sun bleeding across the horizon, shadows devouring what light remained.
The world itself seemed to tremble under the weight of the war that no mortal or immortal should ever have witnessed.
The Blood Ward had fallen.
And chaos ruled what remained.
---
William stood shoulder to shoulder with Magnus and Alexander, surrounded by the howling mass of creatures.
Every swing of their blades tore through the darkness — bursts of light and thunder, shockwaves shaking the ruined field.
But for every beast they cut down, ten more crawled from the shadows.
Joss lay against the shattered stone, half-conscious, his sword still clutched in a trembling hand.
Gawin stood over him, one arm torn open from shoulder to wrist, blood dripping down to his blade. Still fighting. Still protecting.
"Behind you!" Gawin shouted.
William spun, slicing through a creature that lunged from the smoke. It dissolved into ash and mist, but more followed — a tidal wave of teeth and claws.
"We can't hold much longer," Magnus growled, his voice echoing like thunder across the battlefield. His skin glowed faintly gold beneath the grime — ancient runes flaring to life. The power of the Northern Sigil awakened, shaking the air.
Alexander's eyes burned sapphire-blue, his wings — once folded tight — unfurled behind him, cutting through the storm. "Then we die as kings," he spat, his sword bursting into azure flame. "Make them remember who we are!"
And they did.
For a moment, the world burned again — a storm of blood, lightning, and light.
Three generals stood defiant against the end, their power flaring like dying stars.
They knew they could not win — but they would not yield.
----
Far beyond the chaos, at the very heart of the battlefield, stood Kieran and Mara.
The world around them no longer existed — only ruin, only silence, only the echo of their clash.
Mara's laughter rolled like thunder through the void.
"You bleed well, Kieran. I almost forgot how beautiful your destruction is."
Kieran said nothing.
His once-white hair burned a deep crimson now, like blood turned to fire. His eyes glowed with the fractured light of two stars colliding — gold and red, fury and sorrow.
Blood dripped from his lips, tracing down his neck, pooling at his feet. Every drop sizzled as it touched the ground — and sigils bloomed in his wake.
Circles of light.
Lines of power.
Ancient runes none had seen since the dawn of creation.
The mark of the Blood Star — the seal of his divinity — ignited beneath him, expanding outward in crimson light.
The air warped. The ground cracked. The world bent around him.
Mara watched, black veins crawling along his arms, his body splitting open with raw, unstable power. His voice was no longer Dew's — it was something deeper, older, crueler.
"You still think you can stop me? You're a dying god clinging to a curse."
Kieran's gaze lifted — calm, almost serene, even through the blood.
"I don't need to stop you."
He took one step forward, the sigils flaring brighter.
"I only need to take you with me."
Mara's grin widened, feral. "Then let's die together, lover of the moon."
And they collided.
The explosion tore the heavens apart.
Fire, light, and darkness spiraled into each other — a maelstrom of divine chaos that cracked the world open.
The sound of it wasn't thunder. It was the sound of creation breaking.
----
From within the broken ward, William felt it — the surge of Kieran's blood magic, ancient and terrible.
The mark of the Supreme burned against his skin, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.
"William—" Alexander's voice was a roar against the storm. "Get your people out! Now!"
But William didn't move.
He could see Kieran, far beyond the chaos — a figure burning brighter than the sun, standing within the circle of his own blood.
Magnus gritted his teeth, slamming his sword into the earth. "He's doing it — the Final Seal—"
Alexander's expression twisted. "That seal will consume him!"
William's heart broke, but he already knew. He could feel it through their bond.
Kieran's choice was made long before this night began.
Kieran's voice echoed faintly across the battlefield — soft but absolute, the voice of a god accepting his own fate.
"Let there be silence after the storm."
Mara lunged, claws of shadow striking through the blinding light —
and Kieran caught him.
The circle of the Blood Star flared — brighter, redder, expanding outward until it engulfed them both.
And then — nothing.
Only light.
Only silence.
----
From where William stood — sword cracked, armor bleeding gold and shadow — the battlefield had become the mouth of hell.
Smoke and fire devoured everything. Screams blurred into the roar of creatures. The sky itself bled.
And then — light.
Not the pale white of magic.
Not the crimson of Kieran's curse.
But a silver radiance, soft and pure, sweeping across the battlefield like moonlight breaking through storm clouds.
William turned toward it, breath caught in his throat.
The light poured from the center of the chaos, spreading wide, washing over the broken earth. The creatures froze mid-lunge. Shadows scattered.
And then—
the wolves howled.
One voice first — deep and resonant. Then hundreds joined, rising like a chorus of thunder.
From the northern ridge, the Ancient Pack arrived.
Massive wolves, fur glinting silver and black beneath the moon, eyes glowing with the sacred light of the Moonfire.
They charged as one body, one heartbeat — a tide of divine power.
Leading them was Jacob, the Alpha of Alphas.
A beast of impossible size, fur like starlight, fangs bright as steel. With one leap, he crushed a creature underfoot, the ground shaking from the impact.
The pack tore through the enemy ranks — unstoppable, untouchable.
Every step they took, the earth itself seemed to sing.
William whispered, "He's here..."
The Guardian had come.
----
At the heart of the battlefield, where gods waged war, Mara roared and struck — his shadow claws cutting through flame and ruin toward Kieran's chest.
But the blow never landed.
It hit a wall of pure, living light.
The shockwave tore through the air, scattering flame and ash, hurling Mara backward with enough force to crack the ground.
And standing between the two gods — wrapped in silver fire — was Sky.
His presence silenced the battlefield.
His hair, once short, now flowed like liquid moonlight, glinting silver-blue. His eyes shimmered the color of dawn — soft silver threaded with gold. His aura pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and immense.
He no longer looked human.
He looked eternal.
----
The world was burning.
The sky — crimson and black — cracked with divine energy. The earth trembled, quaking beneath the weight of gods reborn.
At the heart of it all, amid ash and ruin, stood Kieran — the God of War — his body bleeding light and shadow. Every breath he took scorched the ground. Every drop of blood hissed where it fell.
The curse within him — the Blood Star — flared brighter with every beat of his heart.
He had become fire itself.
Uncontainable. Unforgiving.
A god who had once loved the moon — and for that love, had damned himself.
Then came the light.
Not sunlight.
Not magic.
But the ancient light that once whispered the world into balance — the Moonfire.
It descended like rain, soft and terrible, washing the battlefield in silver. The creatures screamed as they burned to ash. The darkness recoiled.
And through the veil of fire and smoke, Sky stepped forward.
He didn't run.
He didn't shield himself.
He simply walked, barefoot across the scorched ground, his every step leaving glowing imprints of silver light. His eyes — bright as the full moon — locked onto Kieran, and for a heartbeat, the raging god forgot how to breathe.
The guardian had come.
Kieran's breath came ragged. His voice broke the silence — hoarse, low, shaking from pain and disbelief.
"You... can't be here."
Sky's answer was a whisper carried by wind.
"I have to be."
The light around him flared, and for the briefest moment, Kieran saw her — Lira — standing within the glow. The same silver hair, the same eyes, the same quiet defiance that once tore heaven and hell apart.
But this wasn't Lira.
This was something new.
Something far stronger.
Kieran staggered forward, flames licking at his skin. His voice cracked — half-growl, half-plea.
"Do you know what I am? I carry your light — her light — inside me. It burns me alive every second I breathe."
"If you come any closer, it will burn you too."
Sky shook his head slowly, stepping closer until the silver touched the edge of crimson.
"You're wrong."
His voice was steady — calm, but heavy with sorrow.
"You never burned because of me. You burned because you tried to hold light with rage instead of love."
Kieran froze.
Sky took another step. The air hissed between them, where moonfire brushed against bloodfire. Sparks danced like embers. Both their auras flared, colliding — silver and red twisting together, struggling for dominance.
Kieran fell to one knee, teeth clenched as pain wracked through him. The curse screamed beneath his skin, begging to lash out.
"Sky— stop— you'll destroy yourself—"
Sky crouched down in front of him, the glow around him softening — no longer wild or consuming, but gentle. It wrapped around Kieran like a promise.
"No," Sky whispered, reaching for him.
"I'll save you."
When Sky's palm touched Kieran's chest — over the Blood Star mark — the ground itself shuddered.
Kieran's scream tore through the air, a sound raw enough to silence the battle. The red sigil flared under Sky's hand, burning through flesh and light.
But Sky didn't pull away.
His fingers dug into the mark, the light pouring from him in waves. His hair whipped around him like threads of molten silver, his veins aglow with divine fire.
Inside Kieran, the curse fought back — the Blood Star roared, rejecting the light. But Sky's power wasn't like Lira's.
He didn't burn with purity — he burned with understanding.
With balance.
This was the true Guardian — the one who could hold both dark and light without dying from either.
The battlefield dimmed, as though the world itself held its breath.
Kieran looked up, eyes wild and glowing crimson-gold.
Sky's light surrounded him — cool, endless, infinite — pressing against the curse.
And slowly... the pain began to ease.
Kieran could feel it — the burn under his skin fading, the scream of the Blood Star turning into a quiet hum. The fire in his veins softened, tempered by silver.
"How..." he breathed, his voice a rasp.
"You should've burned."
Sky smiled faintly, his thumb tracing the mark glowing between them.
"I learned to control my light. To love all of you — even the parts the world calls cursed."
Kieran's breath caught.
For the first time in centuries, tears slipped from the God of War's eyes.
He reached up, his hand trembling, and cupped Sky's cheek — careful, reverent, as though holding something sacred. His blood left a smear on Sky's skin, but this time, the light didn't burn it away.
It shimmered — blood and light, finally at peace.
Sky leaned into the touch, whispering,
"Let me carry it with you this time."
Their foreheads met — the mark on Kieran's chest and the Guardian sigil on Sky's chest flared in unison, threads of silver weaving into crimson.
Their bond reignited — not as a curse, but as a balance reborn.
For a heartbeat, time stopped.
The moon hung low. The air shimmered.
Kieran whispered against Sky's lips,
"You shouldn't love a monster."
Sky's answer was simple.
"Then I'll be the monster with you."
And when they kissed, the battlefield erupted in light —
silver and red spiraling together, washing over the ruins of war, burning away the dark.
But above them, Mara laughed — low and venomous.
"So the moon finally embraces the blood again..."
"Then let's see if your love can survive the end of the world."
The earth trembled. Shadows surged once more.
And the battle of gods was far from over.