The summit of Seraphiel's Spire was unnaturally silent, as if the wind itself dared not breathe. Alaric stood alone, the remnants of the once-mighty Astral Council strewn at his feet. Broken thrones. Shattered sigils. The echoes of a fallen order.
A throne remained intact—ornate, forged from starlight and carved obsidian—the Crownseat of Eternity.
And upon it sat not a ruler, but a specter of guilt and memory: the former High Arcanist, Meridion Valen.
"You came," Meridion rasped, his voice lined with regret, yet untouched by time. "I wasn't sure you would."
Alaric didn't move. "You guided them. Hid behind diplomacy while lives burned."
"I tried to stop the war—"
"You preserved your legacy," Alaric snapped. "While the realms bled dry!"
Meridion rose slowly, not in defiance, but in sorrow. His robes were no longer majestic. They hung like funeral veils, each thread heavy with betrayal.
"I made mistakes," he whispered. "And I carry every death like a chain."
Alaric's grip on Veilrend tightened. "Then why stay here? Why cling to the ruins of your empire?"
"To bear witness. Someone had to remember what we were—before power became addiction."
A flicker of hesitation passed through Alaric. He had imagined this moment a hundred times—his blade at Meridion's throat, justice dripping like molten vengeance. But now, facing a man who had already condemned himself, vengeance tasted hollow.
Meridion looked past him. "They follow you now. The Sundered. The Reborn. Even the Veilbearer you once loathed has found peace. And what of you, Alaric? Have you forgiven yourself?"
"I don't need forgiveness. I need the future to be different."
"Then don't make the mistake I did—trying to control it."
A deep rumble shook the spire. Across the horizon, storm clouds churned unnaturally fast, coalescing into a spiral. The Eye of Aetherion—the final phase of the Ebon Core's reawakening—was beginning.
"You've seen it, haven't you?" Meridion said, eyes narrowing. "The Core doesn't just want release. It wants dominion."
Alaric nodded. "And I intend to stop it."
Meridion stepped down from the throne and extended a small vial—liquid shimmering like the night sky. "The Astral Convergence Elixir. One dose. It'll tear away your final limiter… but it comes at a cost."
"What cost?"
"Your humanity."
Silence stretched between them.
"I walked that path once," Meridion said quietly. "Thinking power would make me a better guardian. Instead, I became the thing I was guarding against."
Alaric took the vial but didn't drink. "Then I'll find another way."
Meridion managed a faint smile. "Then perhaps… you are worthy of the crown I never deserved."
Alaric turned to leave—but paused. "Come with us. Help rebuild what you broke."
"I'm not done watching yet," Meridion said, settling back into the throne. "But this time, I'll watch a better world rise… even if I'm not part of it."
As Alaric descended the spire, the storm above intensified. Lightning forked in violet arcs. But for the first time in decades, the path ahead no longer seemed shaped by the shadows of the past, but by the will of those willing to fight for something more.
The fractured crown did not need mending.
It needed replacing.