Chapter 25 – The Shattered Barrier
The world looked wrong.
Where the golden curtain of Revenak's barrier once met the sky, only smoke remained—a bruise spreading across heaven. The towers that had always caught dawn's first light now shuddered in shadow. The city's hum, that endless chorus of living Light, was silent.
John felt the change before he saw it.
The pulse in his chest—the Eclipse Heart—beat out of rhythm with the world. Every throb carried a faint ache, as though the relic inside him mourned what it had undone.
Tamara stopped beside him on the ridge. The wind caught her cloak, scattering frost like dying sparks.
"John," she whispered. "The barrier's gone."
He didn't answer. The spear of Revenak rested across his back, faint light flickering through the runes that lined its shaft. Even the weapon seemed unsure of itself, its glow dimming and brightening in uneven breaths.
Behind them, Blake squinted into the distance. "Smoke, screams, and absolutely no shiny wall. Guess that's our welcoming committee."
Ember rumbled low. The Lumibear's fur had dulled from molten gold to a worried bronze.
John took a breath that tasted of ash. "We go."
They descended.
Halfway down the ridge, they heard it—the sound that didn't belong. Not wind, not thunder. A chorus of shrieks and roars blending into one endless note. The ground quivered with each pulse.
The first corpse appeared a few minutes later: a knight in white armor, half-melted into the stone. His sword still burned weakly, but there was nothing left of him above the waist.
Tamara knelt, fingers brushing the scorched earth. "Light backlash. When the barrier fell, the energy turned inward."
Blake swore softly. "Then everyone inside—"
"Not everyone," John said. "We'll find survivors."
He said it like a promise, but the words rang hollow.
They passed through the outer gate—or what was left of it. One door hung from a single hinge, the other had fused to the ground. The marble street beyond was cracked open like old bone. Where crystal veins once pulsed with gentle luminescence, black vines now crawled, leaking smoke that hissed against the air.
Then came the monsters.
At first just shapes in the distance—four-legged shadows gliding between fallen spires. Then closer, clearer: bodies of obsidian sinew and molten eyes. Things born from the dark between worlds.
"Formation," John ordered.
They moved without thinking. Tamara to his right, frost gathering along her blade; Blake to his left, venom pooling around his daggers; Ember in front, fur erupting in pale fire.
The first wave struck.
John's spear blurred—a streak of gold and red. Every thrust burned a hole through flesh that wasn't flesh. Ember tore through the flank, jaws crushing bone that cracked like glass. Blake vanished into smoke, reappearing behind one creature to slit its throat before it even turned. Tamara froze another mid-lunge, shattering it with a backhand slice.
For every one they killed, two took its place.
"Fall back!" John shouted. "To the square!"
They ran.
Behind them, the shrieking mass poured through the broken gate, crawling over the dead to reach the living. The streets of Revenak became rivers of shadow and blood.
The city square was unrecognizable. Where fountains of pure Light once danced, pools of molten crystal now bubbled. Corpses lay piled around the statue of Caelus, the Light Prince—citizens, soldiers, children—eyes still faintly glowing as their Light leaked away into the air.
At the center, a handful of surviving knights fought beneath a collapsing tower. Their armor flickered, their weapons dull. One saw John and shouted, "The barrier's fallen! The Light's dying!"
"We see it!" Blake yelled back.
John vaulted a fallen column, spear blazing. The ground exploded beneath his feet as he landed in the middle of the fray. Fire roared outward, cutting a ring between the survivors and the swarm. "Get them out!" he barked.
Tamara raised her sword, summoning a wall of frost that sealed one of the streets. "We can't hold this!"
"We don't have to." John's voice was calm, too calm. "You and Blake—take who's left. Pull back to the western ridge. I'll find Leto."
Blake stared at him. "That's suicide."
"Do it."
Something in John's tone left no room for argument.
Tamara stepped forward. "We go together."
John met her gaze—green eyes reflecting flame. "If I fail, you need to live. You'll be Revenak's last light."
The words cracked something in her. She opened her mouth, but the look on his face stopped her. He turned before she could speak, calling Ember to his side.
Then he leapt.
The power came without asking.
Light burst from his back, forming wings of flame and gold that carried him above the ruins. Each beat left shockwaves of heat trailing behind. The city sprawled beneath him like a dying star—fires blooming where monsters roamed, towers collapsing into rivers of molten glass.
The barrier's absence screamed louder than sound. He could feel the emptiness, the wound where the world had been cut open.
He flew faster.
Bodies littered the streets like discarded prayers. Everywhere he looked, Light guttered and died. The air shimmered with the echo of spent miracles.
He found the palace first.
Its once-golden gates lay torn from their hinges. The courtyard was filled with motion—hundreds of monsters tearing through what was left of the royal guard. And at the center, a fallen figure in armor that still glowed faintly blue.
Prince Caelus.
John landed hard enough to crack stone. The spear's point ignited as he charged. He didn't remember fighting; only burning. The next moment, everything near the prince was ash.
He knelt.
The Light Prince's chest was still. His sword lay beside him, snapped in half. The radiant wings that once marked his divinity were gone, reduced to fading embers.
For a heartbeat, John could only stare. He had never liked Caelus, never trusted his cold perfection—but seeing him broken made the loss real. If even someone as strong as him died, what chance did the rest of them have?
Then he heard another sound.
A cough—weak, ragged—somewhere deeper inside the palace.
"Leto," John breathed.
He ran.
The throne hall was half-collapsed, moonlight streaming through holes in the ceiling. The banners of Revenak hung in tatters. Near the steps of the shattered throne lay a man slumped against the wall, spear still in hand.
Leto.
His armor was cracked from shoulder to hip, his skin gray where Light had drained from it. He looked up as John skidded to his side.
"You came back," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. "Too late… but you came."
John pressed his hand against the wound, Light spilling from his palm. "Save your strength. We can—"
"Stop," Leto said. He caught John's wrist with surprising force. "The Heart… when you took it, the balance broke. The barrier fell. The gods' power left with it."
John froze. "Then this—"
"The hoard struck the moment the veil weakened." Leto's breath rattled. "We fought until the Light itself gave out. Even Caelus… his divinity couldn't survive the void."
John's vision blurred. "No. There has to be a way—"
Leto's hand found his shoulder. "You carry the Heart now. You're what's left of Revenak's light. Don't waste it on regret."
"Master—"
Leto's eyes softened. "You were never my student, John. You were my successor."
Then his hand slipped away.
The spear fell from his grasp, ringing once against the stone. The sound echoed through the ruined hall like a bell tolling the end of an age.
John sat there for a moment, frozen. The warmth under his palm faded. The light in Leto's eyes dimmed to nothing.
Then the silence broke.
Outside, the monsters howled.
Something inside John cracked open.
He stood slowly. The world around him blurred. He could feel the Heart beating—fast, frantic, feeding on his rage. The spear in his hand burned white.
The first creature entered the hall, drawn by the noise.
John turned toward it, expression empty. The air around him distorted, colors bleeding from reality. When he spoke, his voice was calm again.
"Burn."
The world obeyed.
Fire exploded outward, engulfing the doorway. The monster disintegrated before it could scream. More poured in from the sides, climbing walls and ceilings, only to vanish in pillars of light. John moved through them like wind through grass—untouchable, unstoppable. Every strike of his spear left shockwaves that shattered stone. The floor melted beneath his feet.
He didn't fight with precision anymore. He eradicated.
Outside, the city caught flame again—this time not from darkness, but from him. Whole streets turned to rivers of gold fire. The monsters came in waves and died in silence. Time stopped mattering. His body stopped feeling. There was only motion, only heat, only the endless roar of vengeance.
Somewhere beyond the fury, Ember fought beside him, burning brighter than ever. The Lumibear's claws tore through shadows faster than sight. Still they came. Still John killed.
By the time Tamara and Blake reached the palace, the battle was over.
They found him standing in the courtyard.
Corpses of monsters stretched in every direction—an ocean of black glass and ash that glowed faintly in the dark. The air shimmered with residual heat, distorting everything into nightmare. Ember lay nearby, panting but alive, his fur smoldering.
John stood at the center of it all, spear hanging loosely in one hand. His armor was cracked, his eyes dark beneath the glow of the Heart pulsing in his chest.
Tamara ran to him. "John! Stop—"
He didn't hear her. His blade moved again, slicing through the corpse of a creature that had already died. Then another. And another. Every swing slower, emptier, but he couldn't stop.
She grabbed his arm. The heat seared her glove, but she held on. "It's over!"
For a heartbeat he didn't react. Then his body trembled, the spear clattering from his grip. The light around him flickered, faltered—and went out.
He fell to his knees.
Tamara dropped beside him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as the first sob tore loose from his throat. It was soundless, a tremor that shook more than any scream. His breath came in broken gasps, eyes fixed on the ruins that had once been his home.
Blake stood a few steps away, silent. For once, there was no joke, no smirk. Only understanding.
Ember limped closer, pressing his head against John's back with a soft, low rumble.
The night was still again.
Tamara tightened her hold. "You're not alone," she whispered.
John didn't answer. He just looked at the burning horizon—the last light of Revenak fading into ash.