The twins flank us, their power humming just beneath their skin.
As we move through the corrupted landscape, something extraordinary happens. New shadows begin to form around her, pulling themselves from the very fabric of this realm. They coalesce slowly, each one distinct. More shadows find their way to her as we continue on, each one a soul I thought lost forever.
I hold her close and try not to think about the last time I saw her, or the night everything changed, when Solveig's desperate magic tore through time itself. The night I failed to protect them both. Solveig died for this future, and yet—watching Kaia fade beneath the same sky—I wonder if we were ever meant to win.
Not this time, I promise silently as another shadow joins her growing legion. This time will be different.
But the way Malrik and the chaos mage move in perfect sync beside me, their concern for her evident in every step, it makes my blood run cold. They move like extensions of one another, both orbiting her even as she lies unconscious in my arms. It is more than friendship or loyalty. The looks they exchange, the way they position themselves, they both claim her in their own way.
The dragon's rage builds.Mine.The word pulses with each step.
The sanctuary can't come soon enough.
"Are we there yet?" the chaos mage groans, breaking the silence. "Because if we have to keep trekking through this nightmare wasteland much longer, I might start questioning my life choices."
I don't respond. His magic is wild, unpredictable, but his concern for Kaia is real. I can feel it in the way his energy shifts every time she makes the faintest sound.
"You already question your life choices," Malrik mutters, adjusting his grip on Kaia's hand. He hasn't let go of her since we started moving. The possessiveness of the gesture makes my jaw clench.
The chaos mage flashes a grin, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Fair point. But seriously, any glowing gates, magic doorways, dramatic beams of light ahead? Or are we just walking until our legs give out?"
"Not much farther," I say. The words carry more weight than just distance.
Malrik exhales, his silver eyes flicking toward me. "How bad has it gotten?"
I shift Kaia's weight, ensuring her wings remain tucked safely against her back. "Worse. The corruption spreads faster than it should. The wards hold, but they weaken every time I pull from Absentia."
Malrik nods grimly. "Same as before, then."
"Not exactly." I glance at the growing shadows forming around Kaia, following us like silent sentinels. "The souls are moving toward her. Not just fallen warriors—lost ones. That has to mean something."
The chaos mage scoffs. "Still waiting for someone to explain that one to me."
"It's complicated," Malrik says, his voice tight. "But if they're returning, it means she's more than just a Valkyrie."
"Yeah, I figured that much when she sprouted wings and ruined someone's sense of balance." The chaos mage gestures vaguely. "But, y'know, details would be great."
I don't answer. The path ahead shifts, the air lighter, the corruption thinning. The sanctuary's magic hums beneath my skin, calling me forward.
Malrik's grip on Kaia tightens. "And once we're inside? How do we fix this?"
I exhale, the weight of centuries pressing down on me. "We find out why this is happening now. And then…" My eyes drop to Kaia's unconscious face. "We see if she remembers."
Malrik and Finn exchange a look, but before they can push further, the air shifts again. The shadows ahead flicker, and then, finally, the sanctuary appears, its crystalline structures gleaming against the corruption that surrounds it. As we approach, more shadows pull free from the realm to join us, each one carrying memories that make my chest ache.
Revna meets us at the barrier, her phoenix fire casting warm light across the corrupted ground. Her eyes widen at the sight of Kaia's wings, understanding dawning in their amber depths.
"The Heart calls them," she says softly as another shadow forms. "Just like before, when the balance started to shift."
Corruption pulses darker beneath her skin. A growl builds in my throat. "We need to get her inside. Now."
As we pass through the wards, the whispers begin. Survivors emerge from their homes—shifters, mages, souls I've gathered from across the realms. They line the crystal-lit streets, their voices carrying centuries of hope.
"The Valkyrie returns," someone breathes, and the words ripple through the crowd like wind through leaves. "She's come back to us."
More shadows form with each step toward the castle, drawn by her presence and the murmured prayers of the watching crowd. Each one feels like a memory given form, warriors I watched fall, healers who gave their last breath, guardians who held the line until the very end.
The chaos mage moves closer, his wild magic settling into something protective. His fingers brush against her wing, a gesture so familiar it makes my vision flash gold with rage. "Not that this isn't impressively dramatic," he says, "but she's getting worse."
