The path to the mountains was no longer the one Lucian remembered. What had once been a familiar trail lined with windswept stones and scattered pine now pulsed with unnatural energy. The serpent's influence had spread like wildfire, warping the terrain, twisting branches into claws, and etching runes into the rocks that glowed a sickly green under the starless sky.
Lucian pressed on, Daen close behind. Neither spoke. There was no breath to waste. Every step felt like a battle against the pressure bearing down on them—the serpent's presence, now fully embodied in the girl they had once sworn to protect. That memory gnawed at Lucian more than the cold wind or the dark visions flickering at the corners of his eyes.
"She's still in there," Lucian said finally, breaking the silence. "I saw her."
"You saw a flicker," Daen replied grimly. "But whatever's left of her... it's buried deep."
"She hesitated," Lucian insisted. "That means there's still a chance."
Daen didn't argue. But he didn't confirm either. His silence was its own answer.
Ahead, the jagged silhouette of the Temple of Soth-Kar rose from the mountain's shoulder like a broken fang. Built by an ancient sect that once worshipped the serpent, it had been sealed for centuries after the Great Collapse. But legends said the relic—known only as the Heart of Ashkara—remained within. If anything could sever the serpent's hold, it was that artifact.
But reaching it meant entering the very place the serpent had once ruled.
As they neared the base of the mountain, the wind shifted. A low hum began to vibrate through the rocks. The runes along the cliffs flared to life, reacting to Lucian's presence as though acknowledging him. He stepped cautiously, each footfall reverberating unnaturally, as though he were walking on hollow ground.
"The temple knows we're coming," Daen muttered, tightening his grip on his axe.
"I'd be surprised if it didn't," Lucian replied.
Suddenly, the air split with a shriek. A creature—a twisted fusion of shadow and bone—leapt from the rocks. Its limbs were long and serrated, and its face was a mask of black ichor and teeth. It moved like liquid hatred.
Lucian barely had time to raise his blade before it was upon them. The clash was immediate and brutal. The creature slashed, Daen parried with the haft of his axe, and Lucian drove his sword forward, piercing the creature's chest. It let out a wail and collapsed into smoke—but more rose from the mist around them.
"They're guardians," Daen shouted. "It's defending the path!"
Lucian nodded and pressed forward, cutting down another. They fought through a dozen of the twisted sentries, their black blood staining the stones. At last, they reached the stairs carved into the mountainside—a winding ascent that led to the temple doors high above.
The climb was treacherous, not just from the steepness or the crumbling steps, but from the oppressive magic that clung to them like wet cloth. Every step felt heavier. Every breath more labored.
Halfway up, they paused to rest. Lucian's legs ached, and Daen's brow was soaked in sweat.
"Do you still think we can save her?" Daen asked quietly.
Lucian didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the looming temple, its spires carved in the shape of serpent heads, their mouths open as if to devour the sky.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think if we don't try, then she's gone for good. And the world with her."
A sudden rumble shook the mountain, and the sky tore open with a flash of green lightning. From within the clouds, a massive serpentine shape curled—its body the size of a mountain range, its eyes twin moons of fire. It was not physical, not yet, but its manifestation was nearing completion.
"The serpent's merging with her," Lucian whispered. "She's becoming the vessel. We're almost out of time."
They climbed faster.
When they reached the summit, the temple doors were already open. Pale light bled from within, and a chorus of low, humming voices echoed through the archways. As they stepped inside, Lucian felt the walls press in around him. The architecture was wrong—impossible angles, shifting corridors, and windows that looked out into black voids where stars moved in reverse.
In the center of the temple's great hall stood a dais, and upon it: the Heart of Ashkara.
It was a crystalline relic, about the size of a skull, and it pulsed like it was alive. Shadows swirled around it, and the air near it shimmered with volatile magic.
Lucian moved toward it—but before he could reach it, a voice stopped him.
"She won't let you take it."
The voice belonged to the girl. She stood at the far end of the hall, hovering slightly above the ground, her hair billowing in the dark wind that now whirled through the room. Her eyes burned brighter than before, and her hands crackled with energy.
"You can't stop the serpent," she said. "It was always meant to return."
Lucian held out a hand. "You're stronger than this. Fight it."
"You don't understand," she said. "I'm not being controlled. I chose this. The world is broken, Lucian. I can fix it."
Daen stepped beside him. "By wiping it clean?"
"By starting over," she answered. "The serpent brings renewal. The old world dies, and a new one rises."
Lucian took another step forward. "And what about you? Where are you in all this?"
The girl's expression faltered, just for a second. "I… I am the flame that burns the rot away."
Lucian moved quickly.
While she hesitated, he lunged toward the dais and grabbed the Heart of Ashkara. It burned his skin instantly, sending a searing jolt through his arm. He cried out but didn't let go.
The girl screamed, and the room erupted with energy. Columns shattered. The floor cracked. But Lucian focused all his will on the artifact.
Images flooded his mind—visions of the world before the serpent, the ancient war, the sacrifices made to seal it away. And finally, a vision of the girl, before she had been claimed. Innocent. Terrified. Alone.
Lucian saw the truth: she hadn't chosen the serpent. It had chosen her.
With a roar, he plunged the Heart of Ashkara into the ground, sending a wave of blinding light through the chamber. The serpent's scream echoed across the world. The girl fell to her knees, her body wracked by tremors as the power inside her struggled against the artifact's influence.
Daen ran to her, catching her before she hit the floor. "Lucian—it's working!"
Lucian staggered forward. "Hold her steady."
The Heart pulsed again, and the serpent's essence began to unravel, sucked back into the depths of the artifact. The girl screamed again, but this time it was human—raw and pained.
Lucian dropped to one knee, clutching the relic with both hands, ignoring the blisters forming on his skin. "Come back," he whispered. "You're not the serpent. You're not a god. You're just a girl. Come back!"
The light flared—and then, all at once, everything went still.
The wind died.
The light dimmed.
And the girl, no longer glowing, collapsed into Daen's arms—unconscious but breathing.
Lucian fell back, panting, the Heart now a dull, lifeless stone beside him. He looked around the shattered temple, the fading traces of the serpent vanishing into the cracks.
It was over.
For now.