Aria's tears would not stop. They carved down her cheeks, hot against her freezing skin. Icarus's blood stained her hands, his warmth seeping away no matter how hard she pressed him to her chest.
"I won't… I won't let you go." Her voice cracked like splintering glass. "You're mine—you promised—so you can't leave me like this…"
Her heartbeat pounded, louder and louder, until it felt like it was splitting her chest open. Pain surged through her ribs, her veins, her very bones—yet she didn't let go. The soul-bond, fraying like torn thread, screamed inside her. She clutched at it, refusing to let it snap.
Something answered.
The air around her stilled. The earth quivered. A low hum filled the forest as golden light began to seep from her skin, at first a trembling flicker, then a flood. Her sobs twisted into a scream, one that rattled through the sky like thunder. The light burst outward in a wave, melting shadows, splitting stone, making every tree bow under its force.
Her aura—dormant for so long, mocked by her own failure—ignited at last. Golden, blinding, furious.
The golden light kept growing. It was no longer a glow — it was fire, a storm, a living sun trying to claw its way out of her fragile human body.
"Aria, stop—!" Alwin shouted, but his voice was drowned by the roar of her aura, louder than any storm. The ground split open in jagged veins, trees snapped like twigs, and the forest groaned as though it would collapse.
Abigel rushed forward, his black aura wrapping around him like a shield. He forced his way into the violent blaze, each step cutting his skin, burning his lungs. She'll tear herself apart… she'll die like this.
He grabbed her shoulders, shouting over the thunder of her scream.
"ARIA! Look at me!"
Her golden eyes didn't see him. She was somewhere else — trapped in grief, in rage, in power that wasn't meant for a mortal to wield.
For an instant, her mind fractured—
A memory not her own spilled out. A tower high above the world. Duke Raelin, standing by a shattered window, staring at stars with eyes that knew too much. His voice was soft, heavy with certainty.
"The child of my blood will awaken in grief. She will bring heaven's fury to earth, and if no one pulls her back, she will cease to be human at all. That is the day she will need a shield… a shadow who will not let her drown."
The vision cracked apart like glass, and Abigel gasped—because Raelin's voice was speaking of this.
"Damn it…" Abigel growled, pulling her against him even as her aura scorched his skin. Umbros coiled tighter around him, whispering desperately to keep his master anchored.
Protect her. Don't let her break.
The last words Icarus left him slammed into Abigel's heart like a blade. His arms tightened around Aria, refusing to let go.
"Icarus trusted me with you… so I won't let you destroy yourself!" he shouted, his voice cracking.
Her scream turned ragged, half-human, half-divine. The golden blaze surged, threatening to consume everything—but Abigel held on, black aura coiling desperately around her light, trying to cage the uncontrollable sun with his shadows.
Meanwhile, in the system realm—
The system began to fracture. First, a hairline crack across the marble floor. Then another across the ceiling. Columns groaned and split apart, raining dust into the air. The walls hold the power to control aria began to crumble as though time itself had declared them false.
The God of Faith lurched to his feet, his eyes wide with horror.
"Wh–what is happening?" His voice broke. "This realm is eternal—nothing can shake it!"
But the young god sat still, his golden eyes fixed on the unraveling reality. Unlike Faith's terror, there was only calm in his voice.
"It seems… everything is unfolding just as he planned."
Faith spun toward him, his panic sharp and raw.
"What do you mean?! Who—who planned this?!"
The floor gave way beneath their feet, swallowing the room in blinding light. When the light cleared, the chamber was gone—replaced by a place Faith knew too well.
His breath caught. His knees weakened.
"No…" His voice trembled. "This place… it's where the Saintess was killed."
The young god finally turned to look at him, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"No. Not where she was killed…" His voice cut deep. "…but where you left her to die."
Faith froze, blood draining from his face. His lips parted, but no words came. The crumbling silence pressed in around them.
"Don't you remember?" the young god whispered, and in that moment the weight of centuries crashed back onto Faith's shoulders—reminding him of the sin he had buried, the betrayal that even gods could not wash away.