"Luminaria," he said, his voice echoing through the trembling chamber, "remember our discussion about the Revitalization Arts—prepare it. While I'm gone, you will know when to use it."
The words sank deep into her, their meaning clear only to her and him.
Lilith raised a brow, glancing at him sideways as the shadows swallowed their legs. "Leaving secret instructions?" she teased softly.
Atlas met her gaze with a faint smirk. "You'll find out soon enough."
A flicker of intrigue passed across Lilith's face before the darkness fully enveloped them both.
And with that, the vortex collapsed—its sound a low, resonant hum that faded into silence, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of ozone and the quiet shimmer of dissipating light.
The chamber stilled.
Luminaria stood frozen, her heart pounding, the last echo of Atlas's words looping in her mind.
Elizabeth stepped closer to her mother, her voice trembling with fury and dread. "What did he mean… 'prepare'?"
Luminaria's glowing eyes dimmed slightly, her expression unreadable. "It means," she said quietly, her tone laced with resolve, "that Atlas never walks into a trap unarmed."
She turned toward the fading energy of the portal, her hand clenched tightly around the necklace at her neck. "Just know we have nothing to worry about."
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Flashback—
One month ago, when Luminaria had yet to yield to Atlas and only craved his blood, she could usually be found in her office chamber, attending to her daily divine duties. Meanwhile, Atlas was in the fields, practicing his Revitalization Arts.
After an hour of reviving and refining the life forces of plants, an idea sparked in Atlas's mind.
He paused his training and made his way to the mansion. Upon entering, he proceeded directly to Luminaria's chamber.
Without knocking, he entered the room. Luminaria was seated in her usual spot—her office chair.
Her gaze shifted from the paperwork before her to Atlas's face, then to his forearm.
Atlas smirked and sat down in the chair opposite her. "It's not yet time for your feeding," he said, "but I've come for a different reason." He noticed the effect of his words as Luminaria's expression darkened.
"Don't worry. If you help me with this, I might reward you with my blood, which means you'll get to drink it twice today," Atlas added, lightening Luminaria's mood.
Now motivated to assist him, Luminaria asked, "First, I want to know if I can revive someone using the Revitalization Arts."
"Yes, that's the purpose of the Revitalization Arts. Eventually, you should be able to revive someone, but there are certain conditions that need to be met beforehand," she explained.
"The conditions are:
1. The being's soul: You can't revive someone if their soul is lost.
2. A vessel for that soul: Whether it's a body or a sword, anything that can contain a soul can be considered a vessel."
Atlas leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "Then tell me this," he said, his tone suddenly more serious. "What would I need to revive myself… if I were to die?"
Luminaria blinked, startled by the question. "You?" she repeated, eyes narrowing in thought. "You're not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?"
Atlas chuckled. "No. But preparation is survival. I want to know what's required—just in case."
Luminaria crossed her legs, her gaze sharpening. "You'd need everything I just mentioned, but… for someone like you, it's not that simple."
"How so?"
"You're not mortal, Atlas. Your soul isn't anchored the same way a human's is. Reviving you would require not only your vessel and your soul—but something far rarer: a duplicate imprint of your essence."
Atlas tilted his head. "Duplicate imprint?"
"Yes," Luminaria said, leaning back in her chair. "It's an exact recreation of your soul's frequency—its divine pattern. Normally, it's impossible to create, but…" She smirked faintly. "With my Revitalization Arts, I could reconstruct one."
Atlas raised a brow. "Could?"
"I can," she corrected, pride in her voice. "But it would require something… intimate."
"Such as?"
Luminaria's gaze locked with his, her tone turning silky. "Half of your soul."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Atlas's smirk faded. "You want me to give you half of my soul?"
"Not want," she said, standing slowly and circling around her desk toward him. "Need. To create a perfect duplicate, I must use your soul as the base material. Without that, any copy I make would eventually collapse."
"And you intend to… keep it?"
"Safe," she corrected again, her voice lower now, almost a whisper as she stopped behind his chair. "Inside me. I'll reshape it, reconstruct it, and store it within my own divine core. If you ever fall, I'll use it to rebuild you."
Atlas's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion—but curiosity. "And what do you get out of it, Luminaria?"
Luminaria leaned closer, her breath grazing his ear. "More of your blood. Twice the amount you offered before."
Atlas chuckled under his breath. "I should have known."
"Then do we have a deal?"
His smirk returned. "Do it."
Luminaria's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Then brace yourself, Atlas. What you're about to feel… isn't something even gods endure lightly."
She raised her hand, summoning radiant streams of golden light that coiled around her fingers. The air trembled under the weight of her divinity.
"Ready?" she asked softly.
Atlas's gaze hardened. "Do it."
The moment her palm touched his chest, agony exploded through his body. It wasn't physical pain—it was deeper, a wrenching, cosmic tearing that reached beyond flesh and bone into the very fabric of his existence. His essence shuddered, splitting as golden light flooded from his form.
Atlas gritted his teeth, refusing to scream, though his body trembled violently. He could feel it—his soul being carved apart, separated by divine hands that knew exactly where to cut.
"Almost there…" Luminaria murmured, her tone steady but laced with awe. Even she could feel the raw, uncontainable power of his soul as she reshaped the severed half into a luminous orb of condensed divinity. "You're incredible, Atlas… your essence— it's unlike anything I've ever touched."
When the separation was complete, she drew the orb of light toward her chest. The golden energy sank into her body, vanishing beneath her skin. She let out a slow, trembling breath, her eyes glowing momentarily as the power fused with her core.
Then, as promised, she placed both hands over Atlas's heart once more. "Now rest. I'll mend what's left of you."
He could barely reply, still gasping as the pain began to subside. Luminaria's healing light enveloped him, knitting the torn fragments of his remaining soul back together.
Her mastery was undeniable—each motion precise, each wave of energy delicate and deliberate. Minutes passed like hours, and only after what felt like eternity did the pain finally fade.
When it was done, Luminaria stepped back, sweat glistening faintly across her temple. "It's finished," she said softly. "Your soul will stabilize within the hour."
Atlas straightened slowly, his breathing even again. "And my duplicate?"
Luminaria smiled faintly. "Safe—inside me. If your life ever ends, I'll revive you myself."
Atlas studied her, "Our fates are bound." She said.
Atlas's smirk deepened. "They already were."
End of Flashback