The Temple of Hollow Sky stood silent again.
The seal had held—barely. Cira's emergency reinforcement glyphs still glowed faintly, keeping the fractures from splitting open entirely. But it was only a matter of time before it gave way completely if not repaired properly.
And we didn't have time.
Not anymore.
As the storm clouds cleared, revealing the broken sun above, we gathered our wounded and our thoughts, retreating into the upper ruins. The battle was over, but the war hadn't paused to let us breathe.
And Darian Voss, once one of our strongest allies, now sat under constant guard—his wrists bound in mana-dampening cuffs, his eyes hollow.
He hadn't spoken since the seal was secured.
Not to me.
Not to anyone.
Strained Threads
Tension wound through the camp like a tight rope about to snap.
Elara stood outside Darian's tent, arms crossed and face carved from stone. Kieran paced nearby, jaw clenched. The rest of the soldiers kept their distance, whispering and watching.
"He was one of us," Kieran muttered. "He fought beside us. Saved lives. Now—"
"Now he's a warning," Elara interrupted coldly. "A reminder that even the best of us can break."
I stepped between them before the argument escalated.
"He wasn't corrupted like the others," I said. "Not entirely. He made a choice."
Kieran turned to me, frustration flashing in his eyes. "And now he's a liability."
"No," I said, "he's a key."
The Interrogation
The tent was dim, lit by a single hanging lantern. Darian sat on a crate, posture slouched, gaze fixed on the floor. When I entered, he looked up slowly.
"Come to decide if I live or die?" he asked quietly.
"Neither," I replied. "I came to understand."
He laughed, bitter and tired. "I wish I could help you with that."
I sat across from him, the Crown Mark dim against my skin.
"Why?" I asked. "Why betray us now?"
His jaw tightened. "I didn't betray you. I betrayed the lie."
He leaned forward, voice trembling. "You think the Harbinger's wrong because he wants to break the seals. But what if the seals shouldn't exist? What if the gods who created them aren't protectors, but jailers? What if the Chained God isn't the enemy—just the one who said no?"
"Darian—"
"I saw it, Sylas," he hissed. "When I touched the seal. I saw the gods. I saw what they did. The things they kept hidden. They call the Chained God a threat—but he was one of them. Until he rebelled."
"And then what?" I asked. "He burned worlds until they had to chain him?"
He flinched.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what's true anymore. But neither do you."
Shifting Faith
That night, I stood outside the camp perimeter alone, staring into the dead wind as it blew across the ruined canyon. The stars were faint above me, and even they felt like they were watching.
What Darian said echoed in my mind.
What if the Chained God wasn't always evil?
What if the gods who made the Crown weren't saving us, but hiding something?
The memory of the Undervault came back—of the vision, of the creators of the Crown admitting they couldn't destroy the god they'd made.
Not found.
Made.
"Still doubting?" Elara's voice broke the silence as she approached.
"Always," I said. "It's the only thing keeping me honest."
She stood beside me, silent for a long moment.
"I don't trust the gods," she said. "Never have. But I trust you. Even if you fall, I'll still believe in who you're trying to be."
That anchored me more than she realized.
The Third Seal Revealed
The next day, a message arrived from Aetheris—urgent, encrypted, and marked with Kaelen's seal.
We gathered around the central communication array, Cira tapping through the coded layers. A holographic map unfolded, rotating slowly until it locked on a location far to the north—past the glacial cliffs, beyond any known trade route.
The Bleeding Spire.
"Uncharted territory," Cira murmured. "This area's not just off maps—it's been erased. No records, no surveillance. Just empty void."
Kaelen's voice came through next, transmitted directly:
"We've confirmed it. This is the final seal. The Harbinger has already moved. If he reaches the Bleeding Spire before us… the final chain will break."
We had no time.
New Orders
Preparations began immediately.
The Valkyris was refitted for long-range Arctic travel. Heat barriers, storm shields, and Divin-charged core stabilizers were installed overnight. Supplies were loaded in bulk, and only our most trusted fighters were selected for the mission.
Darian would remain behind under guard—Kaelen insisted.
Cira took command of route logistics. Kieran coordinated the rebel scouts. Elara trained with the steampunk veterans, merging her mana-fist style with pulse-enhanced gauntlets.
And I…
I dreamed.
A Dream of Masks
That night, I stood in a field of snow.
A spire rose ahead, black and bleeding into the sky.
And at its peak stood a figure cloaked in gold and shadow—a mask carved from shifting faces.
The Harbinger.
He turned to me.
"You are close," he said. "Too close."
"I'm not afraid of you," I said.
He stepped down the spire, each step echoing with ancient weight.
"You still think this is a war of heroes and villains. But you're chasing ghosts with no memory of the chain's first link."
"What do you want?" I asked.
"To finish what we started."
Awakening
I woke in a cold sweat.
And I knew.
He was already there.
The Harbinger had reached the Bleeding Spire.
Departure
At sunrise, the fleet took off.
Three ships, two hundred soldiers, one mission.
Stop the Harbinger before he unlocked the final seal.
As the clouds opened before us and the world faded beneath the wings of our ships, I looked to the horizon.
A new arc had begun.
And the gods were finally watching.