"Mother!"
Three stumbled forward, his legs heavy as stone. He dropped to his knees beside Keila's still form, his trembling hands hovering, afraid to touch her, afraid to believe what he was seeing. Lightning still flickered faintly over her skin, like echoes of a dying storm.
Her eyes fluttered open. Weakly, she raised a hand to brush his cheek, her touch warm but fading.
"Three… my son…" Her voice was a whisper, ragged and pained. "You must… be brave. Live on… for your father… for me…"
Tears spilled down his face. "No, Mother, please… don't leave me… you can't—"
Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles, even as her breath grew shallow. "You carry… our light. Don't let it die with me."
Her hand slipped from his face. Her chest rose once, fell—then stilled.
"Mother…? Mother!"
Three shook her desperately, his sobs breaking through the chaos around them. The smell of ozone and blood filled his lungs. His heart felt like it was tearing itself apart. The world had collapsed into silence , no clash of steel, no thunder of battle, only the unbearable stillness of her lifeless body in his arms.
He pressed his forehead against her chest, his tears soaking into her torn robe. "I'll… I'll be strong… I promise. But please… come back…" His voice cracked into nothingness.
Far away on the battlefield, Sid's head snapped up. His heart clenched, his entire being freezing before it erupted into a storm of grief. He had felt it — the severing of a bond deeper than blood.
Keila was gone.
"No…" His whisper broke into a roar that shook the ground. "No!"
Zoltan smirked, his poisonous aura slithering closer. "So… the wife has fallen. How poetic. Perhaps you'll join her soon."
Sid's shoulders trembled. The flames on his body surged, turning from brilliant blue to blinding white, devouring the very air. His grief twisted into something darker — a suicidal fury that burned hotter than anything he had unleashed before.
"I'll tear you apart!" he bellowed, his aura exploding outward in a storm of light and fire. The battlefield quaked as his power skyrocketed tenfold, his very life force pouring into the flames. His armor cracked under the pressure, light searing through every fracture.
Zoltan's grin faltered. He recognized it instantly , the reckless, suicidal move of burning one's own essence. If left unchecked, Sid would annihilate everything around him, including himself.
"You fool," Zoltan spat, bracing himself. "You'll die before you ever kill me!"
Sid lunged, a comet of white fire and light. His sword blazed brighter than the sun, every strike carrying the weight of his grief and rage. Sparks flew, explosions rang, and the earth split beneath them as his flames scorched everything in reach.
Zoltan twisted and dodged, venomous mist spilling from his body to corrode the ground and choke the flames. Every strike he blocked rattled his bones. Every clash forced him backward.
But he endured. He had to. If Sid's frenzy burned too long, the man would destroy himself without Zoltan needing to land the killing blow.
"Burn yourself out, Starborn!" Zoltan snarled, unleashing a barrage of poison-laced blades that hissed through the air.
Sid didn't care. He charged through them, flames burning the venom away, his eyes bloodshot, his face contorted in fury and anguish.
With each swing of his flaming sword, he roared, not just at Zoltan, but at the world that had stolen his wife.
The battle had become more than survival. It was devastation incarnate.
And Sid didn't care if it took his life to finish it.
Sid's white flames raged across the battlefield, swallowing poison, steel, and shadow alike. His every strike shook the ground, but Zoltan danced back, his venomous aura fighting desperately to corrode the burning light.
Suddenly, a scream cut through the chaos.
"Help! Father!"
Sid's head jerked toward the sound. Near the center of the island, where the once-proud homes now lay in ruin, a cloaked figure had found Three. The boy had tried to hide beneath the broken beams, but the enemy had dragged him out with ease.
The man sneered as he pressed a palm of roaring flame against Three's chest. The child writhed and screamed, his small hands clawing at the attacker's grip.
Sid's heart stopped. Every drop of blood in his body boiled.
"No… not him."
Three's cries echoed, piercing his soul. The sight of his son being burned alive, the island collapsing, and the weight of his wife's death shattered every restraint Sid had left.
His flames surged, turning the world into blinding white fire.
"Get away from my son!"
With a roar, Sid forced his power to its absolute limit. He twisted his flames and light together, and with reckless will, he ripped open space itself. The tear screamed like a dying star as it split the battlefield apart. From the wound of reality, a storm of fire lashed out, striking the man torturing Three. The enemy was incinerated instantly, his body vanishing in ash before he could even scream.
Three, however, was caught in the rift's pull. His terrified eyes met Sid's for a fleeting instant before the tear swallowed him whole. The boy was gone, lost to the void.
"Three!" Sid's voice cracked, his grief unbearable. His hand stretched toward the vanishing figure, but the space closed with a deafening snap.
A shadow loomed. Zoltan had seized the chance. With a roar, he unleashed a venomous storm, a blade of poison and malice that split the battlefield in two.
Sid didn't move to dodge. He spread his arms wide, his armor cracking as the toxic force ripped through him. Blood sprayed, but he stood, barely clinging to life, his eyes burning with final resolve.
Zoltan sneered. "This ends here."
Sid coughed blood but smiled through it. "Yes… it does."
In an instant, he lunged forward and clamped both arms around Zoltan's body. His white flames erupted, flooding the battlefield with light so bright it erased shadow and flame alike. His voice echoed not in the air, but in the minds of every Starborn still standing.
"Brothers, sisters… this is the end. Burn everything. Leave nothing behind."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then one by one, across the island, the surviving Starborn ignited themselves, their bodies exploding in blinding flares of light. The enemy army screamed as the chain of self-destruction tore through their ranks, annihilating all in its path.
The island shook, the skies burned, and for a moment it seemed as though the world itself would collapse under the storm.
When the light faded, only ash and silence remained.
Among the ruins, a figure stirred. Zoltan staggered to his feet, his cloak burned away, his body scorched and bleeding. His green hair was singed, his face twisted with pain. Yet his poisonous eyes still gleamed with malice.
Sid was no more. The great flame of the Starborns had been extinguished.
Zoltan coughed, clutching at his chest, but forced himself upright. His gaze fell to the golden relic lying cracked upon the scorched earth — the suppressor of bloodlines. He picked it up with trembling fingers and pressed its center.
A portal bloomed, dark and spiraling. Without a second glance at the carnage, Zoltan stepped through, his silhouette vanishing into the void.
And with that, the battlefield was silent, the island nothing more than a graveyard of ashes and broken dreams.