"Though the name may sound strange to all who hear it…" Hatku's voice was slow, as if dragging each word from somewhere deep and buried. "I am… familiar with it."
Tashina turned to him sharply. The journal still lay open in her lap, the final line etched into both of their memories now, glowing faintly in the dim candlelight.
"They called it the Ultimate Being…"
She narrowed her eyes. "Familiar? How could you be familiar with something only spoken of in myth?"
Hatku didn't answer immediately. His gaze was far off, fixed on a cracked window where rain pattered softly against rotting wood. Thunder grumbled in the distance, like a beast stirring in its sleep.
Tashina reached out and gently shut the journal. "Hatku," she said, more firmly now, "how do you know that name?"
He inhaled, slow and tight. "Because the Universal Gods showed it to me."
The air inside the watchtower thickened. The fire between them hissed, catching on damp wood.
Tashina's lips parted in shock. "You… saw them?"
"Not with my eyes," he said, his voice like gravel. "They don't come like that. They don't arrive. They descend. Into your soul. Into your mind. You don't hear them. You become the hearing."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, face buried in his hands.
"It was after everything," he whispered. "After the day I thought everyone had died. That mother… had killed you, father—everyone. I ran. For days. Through realms I didn't know. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I tried to forget what I'd seen. But I couldn't."
A flash of memory ripped through him—his mother's beast form howling in agony, blood splattered across walls, his younger self stumbling out of their shattered home under a sky lit with unnatural light.
"That's when they came," Hatku continued, voice distant. "The Universal Gods. Not in form, but in visions. In the gaps between sleep and nightmare. They spoke to me through the world itself. Through cracks in stone. Through the trembling of flame."
Tashina leaned in, her expression unreadable.
"They told me," he said, eyes shadowed, "that our mother wasn't dead. That she had been cursed. Turned. Forfeiting that battle wasn't a failure—it was an insult. One they wouldn't let go unpunished."
"And you believed them?" she asked, barely a whisper.
"No," he said. "Not at first. But… the pain felt real. The visions were too vivid. And a part of me—deep down—wanted it to be true. I wanted her to still be alive, even if… twisted."
His fists clenched. "Then they made their demand."
"What demand?"
He met her gaze.
"If I wanted to free her… if I ever hoped to reverse the curse and bring her back… I had to do one thing."
Tashina's throat tightened. "What?"
"I had to kill the Ultimate Being."
The words hung in the air like a blade suspended mid-strike.
Tashina slowly turned her eyes to the journal beside her, to the pages now silent, as if exhausted from revealing their truth. "But this being," she said softly, "this… legend—it might be the only thing strong enough to destroy the Universal Gods. To end this eternal war. To set everyone free."
"I know," Hatku replied, his voice trembling. "I know that now."
"And you never told me."
"I was ashamed. I was confused. I didn't even know if what I saw was real. Or if they were just twisting me into another one of their pawns."
He stared into the fire, and it reflected in his eyes like a battlefield of flames.
"I carried it alone," he said. "I thought that was strength. But now I see… maybe I was just afraid."
Tashina didn't speak for a long time. She watched the fire. Then she looked at him—really looked—and saw the boy who had lost everything, the warrior who had clawed his way through blood and bone to find truth, the brother who still mourned a mother that no longer looked human.
She reached out and placed a hand on his.
"So what do we do now?" she asked.
Hatku didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Because no warrior is ever trained to choose between salvation and sacrifice.
But the question weighed heavier than any blade he'd ever carried.
And now—after years of torment, of bloodshed, of losing pieces of himself one battle at a time—the truth was no longer buried.
The only question left:
Should he kill the only hope for all realms… or save their mother?