The first rays of sunlight stretched over the horizon, cutting through the mist like blades. The twelve—the six Revenants and their Mirrored Six—gathered quietly, each lost in thought. This wasn't just another mission. This was war. Planetary and universal threats waited beyond the mountains, and failure wasn't an option.
Lucien stood slightly ahead, cloak fluttering though no wind stirred. His pale eyes scanned the horizon, White energy stirring faintly within him. He could feel the weight of what awaited them: enemies who could annihilate continents, perhaps entire worlds. Seliora stepped beside him, her presence grounding.
"They won't wait for us," she said softly, voice cutting through the quiet tension.
"I know," Lucien replied, fingers brushing hers for a brief, human connection. "Neither will we."
The Quiet Chaos
Zarynth and Vaelith were already bickering—an old habit they clung to even in the shadow of death.
"Your technique is sloppy," Zarynth said, flipping his sword in the air.
"My flames are disciplined," Vaelith shot back, sparks igniting at her fingertips. "You're chaos incarnate."
"Exactly. Chaos wins battles," he said with a grin, ignoring the fire dancing dangerously close to him.
Ashveil lounged on a nearby rock, Nysera poking him with a stick.
"You're not taking this seriously," she accused.
"I am," he yawned. "I just don't care about etiquette."
Their smirks didn't hide the fact that both of them knew the coming battle could very well kill them.
Bonds in the Morning
Kairo and Eryndra stood at the riverbank, tossing stones and flickering in and out of moments to test timing.
"Time isn't forgiving," Eryndra said quietly, catching a stone mid-air.
"I know," Kairo admitted, a rare softness in his voice. "But you make it easier to bear."
Caelthorn and Morwyn watched from a ridge, silent as ever, hands brushing when no one else noticed.
Veythar and Iralith inspected weapons, quietly sharing tips. "Six months of training," she said, "and still, we're about to face something beyond comprehension."
He smirked faintly. "But we'll die doing it together. That counts for something."
The Final Gathering
Seliora raised her hand, signaling everyone to gather.
"Before we depart," she said, "let us remember why we fight, and what we protect. Not for glory. Not for testing. For life itself—and for each other."
The twelve formed a circle, a rare moment of quiet. Even Zarynth stopped fidgeting, even Ashveil went still.
Lucien's hand brushed hers again, a silent promise.
They weren't children. They weren't just warriors. They were twelve hearts, bound by void, by kinship, and by love. The world might try to tear them apart, but for this last morning, they could still be human.
The wind whispered over the hills, carrying a warning: the battle awaiting them would be unlike anything they had ever faced. But together, they were ready.