The Citadel of Echoes loomed in the distance, its spires jutting into the heavens like the jagged teeth of a long-dead beast. Surrounded by blackened clouds and eternal twilight, it pulsed with an eerie resonance. Altharion, cloaked in the Voidweave Mantle, stood at the edge of the ashen ridge that overlooked the final bastion of the Hollow Sovereigns. Behind him, the remnants of his allies—Lira, the awakened Archon of Dawn; Kaelus, the reforged Veilbearer; and Shira, the soulbound sentinel—stood in solemn silence.
"This is where it ends," Kaelus murmured. His once fractured mind had found clarity in the aftermath of his redemption. Now, he bore a new sigil across his arm—one forged not from obedience but from choice.
Altharion nodded, his gaze never leaving the Citadel. "Or where it begins again. The Sovereigns won't allow us to simply dismantle the Lattice of Echoes. They'll fight to preserve the cycle of dominion. Even if it means breaking the world one last time."
As they descended the ridge, each step forward trembled with destiny. They passed through a storm of wraithlight—tormented memories made flesh—trying to claw at their resolve. Lira raised her palm, summoning a radiant sphere that disintegrated the apparitions in silence.
Inside the Citadel, time twisted and sound faded into void. The walls breathed with whispered regrets, echoing a thousand lives sacrificed to maintain the Hollow Sovereigns' rule. The group reached the core chamber—The Silent Hall—where the four Sovereigns awaited: the Eternal Murmur, the Gilded Warden, the Cradle of Chains, and the Wane-Seer.
"Children of the breach," the Eternal Murmur rasped, "you wear stolen power like a crown of glass. Shatter it, and your truths will bleed."
Altharion stepped forward. "The cycle ends here. No more rebirths of tyranny. No more echoes of sorrow."
"You speak as though your hands are clean," hissed the Wane-Seer, its form shifting like oil in water. "Yet you were once Oblivion incarnate."
Kaelus moved beside him, eyes unwavering. "And I was once their Veilbearer. But neither of us are who we were. And that terrifies you."
The chamber cracked with tension as the Sovereigns prepared their final assault. But something unexpected happened—Shira stepped forward and plunged her blade into the ground, creating a seal of binding. "This isn't a war. It's an accord."
They all froze.
"We don't need to kill each other," she continued. "Only the chain that binds us. The Lattice was never meant to imprison souls—it was meant to guide them. You twisted it."
Lira's light pulsed. "We can remake it. Together. Sovereigns or not."
Silence followed.
Then, the Cradle of Chains spoke—a low, feminine voice, weary and old. "We... remember the origin. Before the corruption. Before we chose to rule rather than serve."
The tension eased. Altharion lowered his staff.
A compromise was forged—not through conquest, but through surrender. The Sovereigns would dissolve their essence into the Lattice, relinquishing dominion and granting the realms the ability to guide their own fates.
As the pact was sealed, the Citadel trembled—not in collapse, but in transformation. The Silent Hall shifted into a sanctuary, and for the first time in millennia, the echoes stopped screaming.
Altharion turned to his companions, the burden of ages finally lifting from his shoulders.
"Let the world remember this," he said. "Not as the end of an age... but the beginning of choice."