Chapter Summary: Ki Song is watching her children commit war crimes like a proud soccer mom.
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Madoc heard the screaming before he properly understood what had happened.
For one disorienting instant, the battlefield seemed to… change.
One moment, the Ivory Tower had still been locked in a brutal stalemate, steel clashing against steel while wounded soldiers struggled to hold their ground.
The next, white fire swept across Valor's forces like judgment descending from the heavens.
Within that same instant, the revolting smell of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils.
The flames coating his armor were unlike any fire he had ever endured before. They clung greedily to steel and flesh alike, slipping through every layer of protection with terrifying ease. Pain exploded through his body hard enough to blur his vision, forcing a ragged sound from his throat despite decades spent mastering himself.
Nearby, Knights of Valor staggered and collapsed amidst torrents of white flame, their screams rising only briefly before cutting off one after another.
Madoc gritted his teeth and reached instinctively toward his soul sea, searching for [Medal of Winter], the same brooch he had used against Nephis a month ago, in the assault on the Immortal Flame manor, back when she was still a Master. If he summoned it now, maybe…
It would be too slow.
By the time the brooch materialized, he would already be dead, his body reduced to cinders.
"I'm going to die," he realized.
There was still so much to do, so much to say, so much to-.
Cold water crashed over his body.
Steam erupted violently as a heavy shroud of water enveloped him from head to toe, extinguishing the white flames in an instant. Madoc staggered, coughing harshly while blessed coldness spread across scorched flesh beneath his armor.
The water did not stop with him.
Waves surged across the Island, wrapping around surviving Valor forces and smothering the fire wherever it touched. Burning knights collapsed to their knees while steam rose in thick clouds around them.
Madoc forced himself upright slowly, ignoring the lingering agony crawling beneath his skin.
His gaze swept across the battlefield, and his stomach tightened at the sight.
Bodies littered the shattered battlefield.
Awakened operatives who moments earlier had still been fighting now lay motionless amidst blackened armor and drifting smoke. Most of the Masters remained alive, if only barely. Some screamed in pain while others simply twitched weakly upon the ground, staring blankly upward.
A chill settled over him despite the lingering heat.
One attack. One single attack from Changing Star had caused such devastation.
A month ago, she had still been beneath him.
Now he wasn't certain he could survive another direct hit.
All of them would have died right at that moment if not for…
One knight stood near the center of the battlefield, his posture tall and straight, as if untouched by the calamity that had just taken place. He was clad head to toe in dark armor unmarred by any insignia but that of a simple Valor operative. Water coiled silently around him like living serpents before spreading outward once more to extinguish the remaining flames, bringing relief to those who were still suffering under Nephis' merciless flames.
Gilead, the Summer Knight, had made his play.
Madoc exhaled slowly, feeling relief spread, along with an exhaustion that felt far heavier than it should.
Gilead had hidden among the operatives from the very beginning, disguised as nothing more than another Master. Anvil had wanted one unseen blade held in reserve to handle possible surprises.
Madoc had thought it excessive at the time.
Jest, Cormac, and himself, alongside his Supreme brother, had felt like a gross exaggeration for dealing with fewer than fifty Masters and a pair of Saints. Adding a fourth Saint on top of that had bordered on paranoia.
Now, staring across the ruined battlefield, Madoc realized Anvil had been right yet again.
His gaze slowly shifted toward Nephis.
She hovered above the Ivory Tower amidst incandescent white flames so bright they distorted the air itself around her. Light bent unnaturally around her figure while heat rolled outward in suffocating waves.
Looking at her like this, Madoc couldn't avoid thinking that she no longer resembled a human being, but wrath given form.
His gaze drifted to what he had in front of him next. To Elegy of the End and Raised by Wolves.
The Seer faced him with a composed exterior, dagger held tightly between dainty fingers, ready to intercept if he were to attack again. Athena, meanwhile, glared at him through bloodshot eyes, barely remaining upright with her spear serving as a crutch.
If he were to attack, he was sure that he could kill the two of them. Heavily injured by the flames or not, he was still more than strong enough to do that.
Madoc didn't; he would die immediately after. Changing Star would ensure that.
He stepped back slowly, facing the two Masters warily. Raised by Wolves looked seconds away from toppling to the ground, but he wouldn't put it past the feral woman to bite him to death. Or from the Seer to stab him with that flying rapier of hers the moment his back was turned.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jest doing the same, limping away from the Echo he had been fighting from the beginning of the assault. Madoc was sure that he made for a poor sight, but the older Saint looked even worse, covered in burns and slashes, and nursing an arm that had been broken in more than five places.
During the brief stalemate, survivors dragged the wounded backward while both sides retreated almost instinctively, forming two ragged lines across the shattered island. In a matter of seconds, there was a clean divide between the two groups, with Gilead standing at the front of the Valor forces while Changing Star hovered above the Firekeepers.
Madoc felt unease tighten within his chest.
If only the Supreme Echoes had been with him instead of being entrusted elsewhere. With them, perhaps this situation would not have deteriorated so catastrophically.
Madoc could only hope that Anvil's plan for them would prove fruitful.
Ahead of him, Gilead stared silently at the burning figure of Changing Star, ready to answer whatever she did next. Something that he assumed Nephis was doing too.
Slowly, silently, pressure began building across the battlefield with frightening intensity. It was the silence of a tomb, the calm before the storm, the brief pause before the end of a momentous battle.
Madoc watched it unfold, too wounded to participate himself, and felt something dangerously close to dread settle into his weary mind. Even his best healing memory wouldn't work fast enough to matter.
He had thought Anvil overly paranoid when he decided to bring four Saints for this battle, and now, he found himself wishing that his brother had brought even more.
"I should have stayed painting."
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"Queen of Worms."
The massive raven tilted its right head slowly, glossy black eyes studying him with unnerving intelligence. Then it produced a harsh, rattling sound that could almost have been mistaken for laughter.
One of its beaks opened, and a velvety, feminine voice came out.
"My, I must say that the new look doesn't favor you too much."
Anvil's expression remained the same, yet the grip on his sword tightened slightly.
The bracelet Memory continued mending the damage caused by Changing Star's flames, restoring flesh and smoothing scorched skin beneath its pale radiance. Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing for the hair that had been burned away entirely.
A vexing fact to be solved after he dealt with the corpse before him and retrieved his new blades.
The raven watched him with blatant mockery, feathers rustling softly amidst the scorched winds. Its enormous body drifted lazily through the air as though it were amid a quiet evening gathering.
Anvil studied it coldly.
Even through the puppet she wore, Ki Song's presence felt vast and mighty, carrying the same weight he remembered from years past. Corrupted creatures naturally inspired revulsion, but her vessel possessed something almost alluring in its lethality and grace.
If he had to pick something, the most striking facet was the eyes, black as an abyss and disturbingly human despite the bestial shape.
"Did you truly believe your scheme would work?" Anvil asked at last, his voice calm despite the irritation simmering beneath it. "That, sending your pawns to weaken me, and then coming yourself to deliver the final blow, had a chance of success?"
A chilling, croaking laugh escaped the raven, loud and clear despite the roaring winds.
"It's a little more complicated than that." Ki Song said, waving one wing lightly as if it were not important. "But yes, yes, I did."
The shameless honesty almost made him scoff.
Anvil regarded the Corrupted vessel in silence while subtly taking stock of his condition.
Most of his lesser swords had been destroyed by Changing Star's explosion, reduced to molten slag or scattered fragments drifting through the sky below. He could still feel the absence of them within his domain like gaps in a completed structure.
It was unfortunate, but not devastating. His true weapons remained untouched, after all.
The seven swords floating behind him radiated terrifying sharpness even now, each one possessing power great enough to slaughter most foes effortlessly. His armor had already repaired itself under the careful ministrations of his aspect, warped steel reshaping itself while scorched flesh regenerated underneath.
Though somewhat tired from the fight, he remained far from depleted. But most importantly, he was still within his domain.
The same could not be said of Ki Song. She was separated from her domain and operating through a vessel instead of her true body. A powerful vessel, certainly, but still one constrained by its lower rank and lack of an aspect.
Her will was unimpeded, but that fact would not be enough to grant her victory. Not even close against someone of his caliber.
What little swords he still had left stirred, circling around Anvil in a sharp ring that would deliver proper rest to the flesh puppet she wore.
"Then come at me, Ravensong," he said coldly, "and let me teach you just how sharp my blades are."
The raven's left head emitted a shrill cry halfway between mockery and delight.
"Fun as it might be, I shall decline." She said in the same light tone as before. "I'm afraid you are a little too healthy to proceed with that plan right now."
Anvil regarded the creature with naked disdain. "Am I supposed to stand aside and let you and your spawn go away, then?"
"It would be much appreciated if you did, yes." His will flared, the air itself growing sharp under its effect. "It looks like your sense of humour is as terrible as ever. No, I have an offer to make you instead."
He tilted his head, regarding the raven warily. Ki Song's schemes had schemes of their own. He trusted any word that came out of her mouth as much as he trusted the sharpness of a spoon.
"Speak." He demanded nonetheless.
"It would be quite convenient if you were to keel over and die." Both beaks curved upward faintly, forming a grotesque imitation of a smile. "Since that's not happening, let me propose something different."
His grip tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword. "Stop wasting my time, worm."
The amusement in her beady eyes disappeared, replaced by stone-cold seriousness.
"An alliance," Ravensong croaked. "Until the Dreamspawn is dealt with."
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Nephis descended slowly through the lingering haze of steam and smoke, careful not to jostle the unconscious body held against her chest.
The world beneath her looked half-consumed.
Large portions of the Ivory Tower still burned with white fire while others had been drowned beneath spreading water. Vegetation had been reduced to ash, stone pathways shattered apart by Saints and explosions alike. Bodies lay scattered across the floating island amidst broken weapons and collapsed pillars, the once serene island transformed into something barely recognizable.
And through all of it, she held Sunny carefully against herself.
He remained utterly limp within her arms, his breathing shallow and uneven enough that every faint rise of his chest drew her attention instinctively. Without the constant movement of shadows around him, without the sharp smirk and infuriating remarks that always seemed ready, he looked more fragile than she had ever seen him.
She hated it.
The flames surrounding her flared brighter for a split second, only to dim immediately after as exhaustion crashed against her once more. Every movement hurt. Not in the sharp, immediate way wounds usually did, but in the dull, all-encompassing way that came after pushing herself far beyond her limits.
Detonating six cores at once had hollowed her out, leaving nothing but pain and a smoldering wrath behind.
Nephis lowered herself onto the fractured stone of the Ivory Tower at last, her eyes still watching warily for the next move of Saint Gilead.
The moment her feet touched the ground, silence spread slowly across the battlefield, as both sides regarded her with bated breath, aware that everything hung in the balance of what she decided to do next.
Valor soldiers stared at her with open dread while the surviving Firekeepers looked on with exhausted hope bordering on desperation. Steam still curled upward from scorched armor while distant groans and crackling fire filled the oppressive quiet left behind after her attack.
Nephis ignored all of it.
Her eyes found Saint with ease. The taciturn stone woman stood amidst the devastation with darkness swirling thickly around her armor, almost looking like a conquering queen resting among the remains of her foes. Her armor was covered in cracks, her shield was shattered, and the sword clutched in her hand was no less damaged, and yet, her crimson eyes burned beneath the narrow slits of her helmet just as brightly as ever, fixed entirely upon Nephis.
Not on the battlefield or on the enemy Saints.
On her.
There was accusation in that gaze.
Cold. Sharp. Baleful.
Saint had obeyed Sunny's command and remained behind to protect the Ivory Tower. And while she had done so, Sunny had nearly died.
Nephis understood the accusation well enough and found herself neither capable nor willing to deny it. Without a word, she approached the stone woman and carefully extended Sunny toward her.
Saint accepted him immediately, letting go of her shattered sword and the broken remains of her shield to take him instead.
The terrifying shadow moved with startling gentleness as she took Sunny into her arms, supporting him with a care completely at odds with her fearsome appearance. Darkness gathered around him, wrapping his unconscious body protectively as though shielding him from the world itself.
For one brief second, Nephis hesitated, then she reached out and brushed her fingers softly through his dark hair. The strands were damp with sweat and ash.
He did not react even as her flames washed once more over him, and something twisted painfully inside her chest.
Nephis withdrew her hand slowly before turning away.
Any hint of warmth vanished from her expression entirely as her gaze settled upon the armored Saint waiting nearby.
Gilead.
Water flowed around him in slow currents, extinguishing lingering flames wherever they touched. His armor remained mostly intact despite the devastation surrounding him, though scorch marks still covered portions of the dark steel.
The memory of his scream, short-lived as it was, still echoed vividly within her mind. A small, cold part of her took satisfaction in it.
Nephis regarded him without emotion. "You could have attacked me."
The armored Saint remained motionless for a moment before replying evenly. "It would not have been honorable."
Contempt rose immediately within her chest. "And an unprovoked attack is?"
Silence was her only answer.
Gilead's posture shifted faintly beneath the armor, discomfort flickering through the movement. Yet he did not answer.
Nephis slowly raised the [Blessing of the Moon].
The simple action sent another wave of exhaustion crashing through her body. Pain lingered everywhere, beneath skin, inside bone, woven deep into her soul itself. The white flames surrounding her flickered unevenly, sputtering at the edges.
Gods, she was tired.
The only thing she wanted was to lie down somewhere quiet, pull Sunny within her arms, and sleep until everything went away.
Instead, she tightened her grip on the sword.
Across from her, Gilead raised his own weapon and settled into a guarded stance. Water surged more violently around him afterward, pressure slowly building across the battlefield as his transformation started unfolding, turning him into a radiant silhouette of a man.
Around them, nobody moved.
The surviving Firekeepers stood battered and bloodied, many barely capable of remaining upright.
Cassie leaned weakly against shattered stone nearby, blood staining her clothes. Effie breathed heavily while using her spear to remain standing. Kai floated unsteadily above the ground with one arm hanging uselessly at his side.
And still, she could sense it, their hope, the trust they deposited in her to carry them to victory. Their desire to see another day, providing her almost dry reserves with a trickle of essence that she sorely needed.
Valor's remaining forces looked little better. The Awakened operatives had already perished beneath her flames, while the surviving Masters were grievously wounded. Even the remaining Saints remained still, too wounded to be anything but a hindrance.
Jest watched silently from afar, injured enough that even he no longer looked amused. Madoc was grim-faced, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.
Nobody had enough left to interfere.
The battle for the Ivory Tower would be decided here and now, between her and Gilead.
Nephis inhaled slowly, white flames surging brighter around her body. Or at least, attempting to.
The fire flickered weakly at the edges, unstable after everything she had forced herself to do today. The incandescent inferno that had once swallowed the world now looked diminished, like a sputtering candle stubbornly refusing to go out despite the darkness pressing against it.
And still, Nephis stared at Gilead through the dancing white flames.
Then she stepped forward first.
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Ki Song regarded Anvil in silence for a long moment, her attention resting on the subtle signs most people would never have noticed, the faint stiffness in his posture where pain lingered beneath restored flesh, the way his sword hand remained just slightly tighter than necessary, as though reminding himself that it was still there to be used.
Internally, she allowed herself a brief flicker of satisfaction at how the battle had unfolded.
Nephis and Sunless had exceeded every realistic expectation she had ever entertained for them, and that in itself was amusing. It was rare for her predictions to be so thoroughly outpaced, rarer still for the outcome to remain positive despite it. The world had a habit of producing disappointments; those two, at least, had not obliged.
Her thoughts drifted briefly through the possible ways her plan could have unfolded.
In one, against all probability, Anvil fell here and now at their hands. In that case, she would have congratulated them without hesitation, right before sending them to the Shadow Realm herself. A weapon that sharp, that unpredictable, could not be allowed to exist and grow any stronger.
In another, they failed to kill him but weakened him enough that she could deliver the final blow herself. A simpler outcome, and far more satisfying, though not nearly as entertaining.
And in the third and most likely -the one currently taking shape before her eyes- they did neither, yet succeeded in forcing Anvil into a position where caution outweighed pride.
It was, as far as plans went, as much of a success as it could reasonably be.
She had seen everything her heirs had to offer in a fight, making further plans all the easier to make. At the same time, the forces commanded by them were diminished and weakened, a perfect breeding ground for her own loyal servants to insert themselves into. Nephis and Sunless had also faced a crushing defeat at the hands of a Supreme, a valuable reminder that no matter how strong they might have become, they could not afford to forego her protection. Finally, they had also weakened Valor's position further.
As a bonus, many of Anvil's best weapons had been destroyed by her adorable newest daughter, a fact that she knew infuriated him more than anything else.
Back at Ravenheart, she had already opened a bottle of her favorite wine to celebrate. Anvil's death was the only way the situation could have been any better.
Speaking of him, the grip on his sword tightened imperceptibly.
"I'm listening."
Ki Song let a faint, almost absent sound escape her throat, something that might have been amusement if one were generous enough to call it that. "You must be aware by now of the Dreamspawn's spreading influence."
His teeth clenched slightly, the only outward sign of restraint slipping. "I am."
"Good," she replied in an even voice. "Then you also understand that we cannot afford to waste time indulging in petty disputes while that problem continues to expand unchecked."
Ki Song was clear on that; all-out war between their domains would be long and costly. And the Dreamspawn might very well return before it was done.
For the first time, something sharp flickered behind Anvil's composure, though it did not break. It simply deepened, like pressure gathering beneath still water. "What exactly are you proposing? That we pretend to be allies until that devil is dealt with?"
The corner of Ki Song's beak curved faintly in a facsimile of a smile. "Yes."
Silence followed, heavy enough that it seemed to press against the broken sky itself.
Anvil's face remained just as impassive as before, but she knew well enough that he was thinking. Weighing whether to accept or throw caution to the wind and attack her.
A part of her almost wished that he did; his reaction to the little surprise she had prepared for him once he came home would be truly entertaining.
"I want one of them," Anvil said at last.
A soft laugh escaped her then, unrestrained and almost genuinely entertained. "Ah, dear Anvil," she replied lightly, tilting her heads in a mirrored motion that made the gesture sinisterly eerie, "do you truly believe yourself in a position to be negotiating?"
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she continued, voice unchanging. "You may accept now, or you may refuse and fight me. Either way, the outcome will remain the same in principle, though considerably less convenient for you if you choose poorly."
Anvil's expression cooled further, the patience in it thinning into something far more dangerous. "You believe this… vessel of yours is enough to stop me?"
"Oh," she said softly, almost indulgently, "I am fully aware it is not."
That, at least, made him pause.
Her tone did not change. "However, this vessel of mine is more than sufficient to delay you long enough for the two of them to escape. And in doing so, you will also lose every remaining soldier you have scattered across the Ivory Tower."
"Changing Star is on her last legs, while Summer Knight is still fresh," Anvil pointed out.
"She's her parents' daughter." She replied without pause. "That girl will reduce your tin knight to ashes and every single one of your servants, too, right after."
Anvil did not answer immediately, and neither did she push.
He could see through his swords, just like how she could see through her vessels. One of them -a simple fly- was watching the duel between Nephis and Gilead at this very moment. They were currently at a stalemate, which was the worst position you could find yourself in against little Nephie.
A cold snort escaped Anvil when Summer Knight traded a slash that carved through his chestplate in exchange for one across Changing Star's. Her wound healed, but his didn't.
"Very well," he said at last, voice like iron dragged across stone. "I will entertain this ridiculous alliance you propose." Anvil's will flared further, pressing down on her feathered body. "However, I won't hesitate to strike you down if the chance presents itself."
Ki Song laughed again. "Neither will I."
For a brief moment, neither of them moved. Neither allies nor enemies in any meaningful sense, but something far more unstable, two forces aligned only by necessity, each measuring how much betrayal the other could survive before the arrangement collapsed entirely.
Then Ki Song inclined her heads slightly, as though concluding a simple discussion. "Shall we go and stop our dear children, then?" she asked idly, already beginning to turn her attention toward the distant battlefield. "Your tin knight will not last much longer against my adorable little Nephie."
Anvil's grip on his sword tightened once more, a reaction he did not bother concealing this time.
"She will betray you," he said flatly.
Ki Song paused just long enough to glance back at him, her expression faintly amused, faintly knowing. "My," she murmured, "I did not take you for a sore loser, dear Anvil."
To think he would utter such words…
As if she couldn't tell.
It was as obvious as day; one only had to look into Nephis' eyes to see the truth.
Ki Song could recognise that hunger easily, hidden as it was before an unexpressive mask. She recognised her desire for revenge, to make the world pay for taking those she cherished away from her, to make others be in as much pain as she was.
Why, those very same eyes had stared back at her every time she had looked at herself in the mirror after her mother's death.
When it came to little Nephie, betrayal was not a matter of if but of when.
Sunless, on the other hand? She could just as easily recognise the tension between the two of them. The unspoken words. The simmering conflict beneath. Ki Song did not know what it was that had taken place between them, though she had her suspicions, but she was more than willing to abuse it.
Who knows? Maybe her adorable little prince could convince her newest princess to change her mind. One could always hope, after all.
As if capable of reading her thoughts, Anvil regarded her with disdain, the thought of attacking her despite everything arrayed against him clearly passing through his mind.
In the end, he turned around without saying a word and started flying toward the Ivory Tower.
With a flutter of her wings, Ki Song followed, quiet satisfaction settling deep within her chest.
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Gilead met her in the fractured ground of the Ivory Tower, their clash alone cratering its abused surface yet again.
Water answered his will before thought fully formed, rising in disciplined arcs that cut through the heat and destruction, shaping itself into weapons, barriers, and pressure-driven strikes that mirrored the rhythm of his opponent's assault. For a brief, precarious stretch of time, it was enough. Nephis moved like a wildfire given flesh, but wildfires could be resisted when the sea itself rose to meet them.
Still, every exchange reminded him of the imbalance between them.
Every wound she delivered remained, while every one he did was gone within the same instant.
"You don't have to do this," Nephis said quietly when their blades locked, her voice carrying through the roaring air with unsettling clarity. "You could be better than this. You could still choose something else."
Gilead did not answer, choosing instead to deflect a blade of white flame with a compressed surge of water, the impact sending tremors through his arms, and only then did he speak, voice tight with effort. "I am already choosing."
But the words did not feel as solid as they should have.
There was a weight pressing behind his thoughts, subtle and persistent, like a seed trying to root itself in unfertile soil. Doubt, just as unwelcome as it was insistent, flickered with every word she spoke. He hated that it was there at all. Worse, he understood why it had come.
The thought was cut down as quickly as it formed, slicing the spreading roots along with it.
He was a knight of Valor. He had made an oath to his king, one that he intended to keep for as long as he drew breath, no matter how much he had grown to despise the man.
Whatever else he was -whatever hesitation, whatever regret might attempt to take shape inside him- none of it was permitted to outweigh that fact.
Under his resolve, that treacherous seed could do nothing but wither down to nothing.
And yet, as he watched her, he could not help but feel something close to dread.
Looking at Nephis was like staring directly into the sun. Not because she was overwhelmingly strong alone, though that was undeniable, but because there was something absolute in the way she fought, something that did not bend even when reason suggested it should. To face her at full strength was a thought that made even his iron discipline feel fragile.
Still, he pressed forward.
Steel and water met white flame again and again. He managed to carve openings where he could, landing several strikes that should have mattered. On any other opponent, they would have.
But on her, they did not remain as they should.
A cut across her side closed faster than it should have been possible. A wound along her shoulder deepened for an instant before stabilizing, as though the injury itself was being denied permission to exist in its full extent. Meanwhile, every strike she returned carried consequences far beyond their apparent depth. Even the lightest contact left behind burning persistence, pain that lingered like an echo refusing to fade.
Worse still, instead of faltering, she was growing stronger.
Changing Star's might should have been fading. He could feel it, the exhaustion, the depletion of essence, the strain of maintaining her peerless skill under such relentless pressure. And yet, faintly, impossibly, it felt like she was recovering. It was neither quick nor easy, but it was there, and slowly but surely, it was pushing the battle in her favor.
Gilead tightened the grip on his weapon, commanding water to flow through it and condense on the edge until it was reduced to a paper-thin sheen that experience had proved could cut through almost anything.
She had to be ended here and now. Anything else, and he would fail.
Changing Star did not miss his actions, for immediately after, her sword started shining brighter, more like a blade of pure fire than cold steel.
The final clash gathered between them, pressure building to a breaking point where even the air seemed to hesitate. Water surged, flame condensed, the world narrowing down to a single inevitable collision—
And then it stopped.
Two presences descended upon the battlefield like a verdict. The air grew dense, its weight almost suffocating, tinged with the smell of steel and a faint touch of blood.
Gilead's strike faltered mid-motion as his king, Anvil of Valor, arrived, accompanied by Ki Song, the Queen of Worms herself.
The Sovereigns did not announce themselves with any word or spectacle. They simply appeared, and reality bowed to them in submission.
"Enough," Anvil said coldly.
Gilead straightened up immediately, taking a step back and bowing his head respectfully at the man he owed allegiance to.
On the opposite side, Ki Song's gaze swept across the battlefield, lingering on the devastation, the broken lines of Firekeepers, the exhausted remnants of Valor forces, and finally Changing Star herself.
Both sides froze, neither daring to commit to any action, tension coiling between them as they awaited the next word of their sovereigns.
He saw Changing Star's reaction and couldn't avoid feeling a tinge of fear from spreading.
Her gaze lifted to the Sovereigns, and for the first time since the fight began, something like raw pressure escaped her control. White flames trembled along her form, rising higher, brighter, as though her very instincts demanded she burn everything between her and them.
And yet, despite the fact that Gilead was convinced she would strike, she did not.
Her gaze roamed around, to the shattered ground, covered in debris and corpses alike. The wounded Firekeepers next, barely capable of standing and looking at her with desperate hope. Her battered cohort at last, barely standing, barely alive. The cost of continuing was clear as day.
Slowly, reluctantly, like a blade being forced back into its sheath, the fire roaring around her diminished and finally died completely.
Gilead exhaled quietly in relief.
Around him, Valor's remaining forces began to regroup when, amid a storm of sparks, a new flying ship drifted into position above the broken battlefield.
Orders were not spoken, and yet they were understood easily.
They were withdrawing. The battle of the Ivory Tower had officially ended, with no victor but the Queen of Worms.
Gilead moved with them, though his attention did not fully leave the battlefield until the very last moment.
As the ship began to rise, separating them from the ruined island, he looked back.
Changing Star stood amidst the devastation like something carved out of light and fury, unmoving, but far from defeated. Her gaze followed them upward.
For a moment, their eyes met across the widening distance.
White sparks flickered within hers, small, unstable, almost like embers refusing to die, and Gilead found himself afraid of what he saw in them.
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Nephis worked without pause, moving from person to person, invoking her flames time and time again until there was no blemish to be found on the body of her patients.
Distantly, she realised that they were speaking to her. Pleasantries, gratitude, kind words, and flattery.
She listened to none, moving without pause as if she were more a machine than a human. The pain was excruciating, stabbing at every millimeter of her body with cruel precision and merciless torment.
And still, she moved.
There were more people to be healed, orders to be given, new plans to be made…
When a hand caught her elbow, she almost struck on instinct. She would have, had she not caught a glimpse of golden hair at the edge of her vision.
With bleary eyes, she turned toward Cassie, who gave her a soft, reassuring smile.
"It's done, that was the last one."
For a moment, she failed to comprehend the words. The last one? Did that mean…
Exhaustion crashed on her shoulders right as understanding settled, twice as oppressive. A voice in the back of her mind, sweet as a siren's song, told her that she could rest now, leave whatever came next to others.
"I will handle it," Cassie said, her voice just as calm and reassuring as her smile was. "You can rest."
Nephis could not help but disagree. There was too much to do, too many dangers to account for -Ki Song's continued presence within the Ivory Tower above all- to allow rest just yet.
She opened her mouth to protest-
Her legs gave out beneath her before she could, consciousness following right after, with only enough time to spare to realise that Cassie had caught her.