The scream of steel and stone echoed through Ardenthal as the Citadel fell.
A tower of history, knowledge, and blood — reduced to rubble in seconds.
Dust clouds rolled across the square like waves. The sky, already blackened by magic, cracked with veins of crimson light. Evelyn was thrown backward by the force, her ears ringing, vision spinning.
"Elara!" she coughed. "Lucien—!"
"Evelyn!" Lucien's voice came through the chaos. He found her in the smoke, pulling her up, gripping her arm hard. "You're bleeding—"
"I'm fine," she said, voice shaking. "Where's—"
"Elara's holding the line," he said, pointing across the square.
Through the haze, they saw her — blade soaked in shadow-blood, eyes locked on the growing storm.
And Kael was beside her, back-to-back with her now. Their movements no longer clashed, but blended — fire and steel, precision and wrath. For a second, Evelyn forgot they'd only just met.
They moved like they'd fought together for years.
"Cover her," Evelyn said.
"I'll stay with you," Lucien replied instantly.
She touched his hand. "Lucien. I need her alive. That's more important than me."
He hesitated — his eyes fierce with protest — then nodded.
Lucien ran toward Elara just as a wave of shadow-wraiths charged from the south alley.
Evelyn turned to face Noctarion.
He hadn't moved.
He stood calmly among the smoke, watching her. His twisted crown spun above him — whispering ancient magic Evelyn didn't understand but instinctively feared.
"You wear power like a child wears a sword," he said softly. "Too big. Too dangerous."
"I'm not afraid of you," Evelyn said, raising her hands. "Not anymore."
"No," he agreed. "You're afraid of what you'll have to become to stop me."
He raised his hand. A wall of force slammed into her — not physical, but emotional. Memories flooded her:
Her mother's scream.The blood.The chains.The fire.Her own voice, begging. Crying. Forgotten.
She dropped to her knees.
"No—" she choked, holding her head.
He stepped closer. "You are powerful, Evelyn, because you are broken. But break a soul enough… and it turns hollow."
Then a voice cut through the air—
"Get away from her!"
Lucien.
He charged from the side, sword flaming, eyes wild. He struck Noctarion hard, and the shadow king staggered.
"You should've stayed dead," Lucien growled.
Noctarion smiled. "So should you."
They clashed. Fire against void.
Behind them, Evelyn forced herself to her feet, blinking through the tears that stung her eyes. Noctarion had shown her pain — but in that pain, she found resolve.
She wasn't that girl anymore.
She looked to the sky and whispered, "Light, answer me."
A flare of warmth exploded from her chest.
White fire.
Not heat — hope.
It rushed out like a sunburst, knocking back the shadows and giving Lucien time to fall beside her again.
"I thought I told you to protect Elara," she said, panting.
"I protect you," he said fiercely. "Always."
Across the square, Elara stumbled.
Too many. Even with Kael beside her, the numbers didn't stop. She swung her blade, snarling, exhausted.
Then one of the wraiths broke through and slashed her side.
"Elara!" Kael caught her before she fell. His arms were strong, grounding.
"Don't touch me," she hissed, wincing in pain.
"You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
"You were about to drop," he snapped. "So shut up and lean on me."
She looked up, furious—but met his gaze.
And it wasn't mocking.
It was fire. Controlled. Grounded. Like he was the one person who could stand beside her and not treat her like glass or a monster.
His voice softened. "You don't have to carry this alone."
"No one ever gave me a choice."
"Well," Kael said. "I'm not asking permission."
For the first time in years, Elara let herself breathe—just for a second—and let herself rest against someone.
Just for that second.
At the heart of the city, Evelyn raised her blade and screamed:
"For Ardenthal!"
The light inside her surged again, raw and blinding.
Noctarion's shadow cracked for the first time.
He recoiled. "You are not ready!"
She stepped forward, radiant. "I don't have to be."
She unleashed the full force of her power. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't clean.
But it was hers.
And it forced Noctarion to vanish in a cloud of dark ash, just as the dawn finally broke through the smoke.
The capital still stood.
Barely.
Later, as they sat among the ruins, Evelyn cried.
Not because of pain.
But because—for once—she hadn't lost.
Lucien sat beside her, holding her silently.
Across the square, Kael wrapped Elara's wound with steady hands. She hissed at the sting.
He smirked. "Still not dead?"
"Disappointed?"
He met her gaze seriously. "Not even close."
And she… didn't look away.