The air split open with light and shadow.
Above the battlefield, the moon bled into crimson, painting the night in fire.
The stars blinked out one by one, as though the heavens themselves refused to bear witness to what was coming.
This was not merely war —
it was retribution.
At the center of the chaos stood three beings — one forged in blood, one born of moonlight, and one consumed by shadow.
Sky's light pulsed from his body in radiant waves, pure and blinding.
Every heartbeat echoed like a drum through creation.
He raised his hand toward Mara, his voice soft, but it carried across the ruined field like a prayer.
"Teeradech... come back to yourself. Let go of the darkness."
But Mara was beyond reason now.
The sky shuddered as he pulled the void itself around him, swirling black tendrils and crimson fire. His voice boomed, layered and fractured — Dew's rage mingled with the demon's hunger.
"You... the same moonlight that ruined me—ruined him! There is no purity left! Only what remains of the broken!"
The ground erupted.
Shadows surged like serpents, twisting around the Guardian's light.
The moon above turned red, as if bleeding for them all.
Sky staggered under the force — his light dimming as darkness swallowed the air —
but before the wave could touch him, a roar thundered through the field.
A wall of silver fur and divine fury tore through the shadows — Jacob, colossal and radiant, the ancient protector of the Wongravee.
His claws carved light into the soil. His howl shattered the silence, a call older than the moon itself.
Behind him came Kieran — the God of War, the Blood Star reborn.
Crimson fire ignited around his body, blending with the silver moonlight.
He moved with terrifying grace — each step a detonation of flame, each strike cutting through darkness like a divine sword.
When the crimson fire met the Guardian's light, the world split.
The ground fractured, mountains groaned, rivers turned to steam.
Darkness and light wrestled for dominion, each one birthing storms in their wake.
Sky pushed forward through the chaos, voice trembling with pain and defiance.
"There's still a soul inside you, Teeradech! Let me set you free!"
Mara screamed — a sound not of rage, but of torment.
The shadows around him convulsed, clawing at themselves.
Inside the swirling black, faint echoes of Dew's laughter and Teeradech's sobs bled through the air.
"There is no freedom... only the curse you made!"
The demon king's hand came down, splitting the ground in two.
Sky's light flickered, his knees buckling —
until Kieran stepped beside him.
"You don't fight alone anymore."
Crimson met silver.
Blood met moonfire.
Together they unleashed a torrent of power so immense it ripped through the clouds, turning night into blinding day.
The clash of their combined force against Mara's darkness became a storm of annihilation — light, flame, and shadow devouring the world in a single breath.
Inside the blood ward, every being — vampire, wolf, witch — looked toward the battlefield.
The earth trembled under their feet.
The air vibrated with energy so thick it was hard to breathe.
William clenched his jaw, his knuckles white as he watched the horizon.
"He's doing it again," he muttered. "The Supreme... he's burning everything."
Magnus' voice was low, reverent.
"No... this time, he's not alone."
Alexander stood beside him, his ancient eyes glimmering with something close to awe.
"It's the convergence — the blood, the moon, the demon. The cycle's ending."
PP and Felix, standing near the ward's edge, felt the surge of the Guardian's light.
The magic prickled through their veins, lifting the air with power so pure it made their hearts ache.
The wolves howled in unison — Juno, Kazen, Jacob's kin — their bodies bowing to the sacred light as instinct demanded.
It was worship, and terror, and devotion all at once.
The battlefield itself had become a realm between worlds —
the final dance of gods and monsters,
and the rebirth of everything they once destroyed.
----
The air had gone still.
Only the clash of divinity remained — crimson fire and silver light cutting through the last storm of shadow.
Sky could barely stand, his lungs burning, his body trembling under the pressure of the two powers that had shaped the world.
Kieran's blood burned like molten glass, dripping down his arm, searing through the earth.
Mara—no, Dew—roared, his body splintering between form and void. The demon's power howled through him, devouring what little humanity he had left.
Sky saw his chance.
He turned to Kieran, their eyes meeting through the storm — one drenched in crimson flame, the other bathed in silver light.
They didn't need words.
The bond between them pulsed once — old as creation, raw as love itself.
Then they moved as one.
Kieran's blade of blood-fire cut through the dark vortex, parting it just long enough for Sky to slip through the breach.
Light and flame converged around him, wrapping him in radiant armor as he pushed forward.
Each step toward Mara burned.
The darkness screamed, clawing at his skin, whispering every pain, every fear.
But Sky didn't stop.
He reached the heart of the storm, where the last remnants of Teeradech's soul flickered — a single golden thread among the black.
Sky reached out, voice trembling.
"You've waited long enough... go home."
His hand brushed the soul.
A warmth spread through the ruin — soft, forgiving, like sunlight after endless night.
The thread burst into light, unraveling the darkness from within.
Mara staggered. Dew's face surfaced beneath the demonic mask, his eyes wide with something close to relief.
Without Teeradech—the core of the summoning—the vessel began to collapse. The demon's power tore through him, unable to stay contained.
Kieran didn't hesitate.
He drew the last of his power, the Blood Star flame, and thrust it forward, straight into Dew's chest.
For one suspended heartbeat, the world fell silent.
Then the flame ignited —
a crimson inferno devouring shadow.
The true Mara shrieked as his essence split free, a vast, writhing mist that took the shape of a horned titan reaching for the heavens.
The roar it released cracked the clouds, a sound that would have shattered minds if not for the light that followed.
Sky raised his hand — the sigil on his chest blazing like a star —
and released everything.
Silver light cascaded from him, pure and blinding, cutting through the dark mist.
The Guardian's radiance pierced Mara's heart, burning through eternity itself until nothing remained but ash and silence.
When the light dimmed, only two figures stood amid the ruins.
Kieran, his form flickering — half god, half man, all broken.
And Sky, kneeling before him, bathed in the fading moonlight.
Dew lay between them, his face at peace for the first time in centuries.
He reached up with trembling fingers, barely touching Kieran's cheek —
no words, only that single gesture of farewell
before he turned to ash and scattered into the wind.
The war was over.
But the cost was written in fire and blood.
Kieran swayed, his breath shallow. The crimson fire that once wrapped him now burned dimly, licking at his wounds like dying embers.
Sky caught him before he fell, pulling him close, his arms trembling.
"Nani..."
The word was soft, cracked with tears.
"My Supreme. You can rest now."
Kieran's gaze softened, the god fading from his eyes, leaving only the man Sky loved.
He tried to smile — and then he went still, his body too heavy to hold his power any longer.
The earth was silent when Sky stood again.
He gathered Kieran into his arms, his silver light spilling out with every step.
Jacob, still in his enormous wolf form, padded beside him and knelt, allowing Sky to lay the Supreme across his back.
Together, they walked toward the blood ward — where the remnants of both armies waited, breath held in awe.
As Sky crossed the field, his light swept over the land.
Every shadow it touched dissolved.
The creatures disintegrated into dust.
Wounded soldiers — vampire, wolf, witch — lifted their heads as warmth filled their veins, their pain fading like smoke.
The Guardian's light healed, and it forgave.
A gift to the world that had forgotten mercy.
Above them, the crimson moon paled, turning once more to silver.
The wind carried the scent of ash and rain.
The war was over,
and the world exhaled.