Only the brush of wind sweeping over sand and the faint crackle of dying energy disturbed the silence.
I stood motionless, eyes fixed on the collapsed figure sprawled before , surrounded by others of his kind—all wide-eyed, all still. They seed to understand as well. I supposed if they could perceive energy as deeply as Harua, it made sense.
But I didn’t need Luna’s vision, nor Precursor Sense’s insight. The stillness alone was enough. I had co to recognize it too well. The silence that followed the sacrifice. Even if his act had freed his people, the sight of it left rigid. The emptiness behind the eyes, once the spark had fled, clung to my thoughts, refusing to fade.
Bristle moved before I did. A flash of orange flared across the edge of my vision, whistling past to strike one of the lingering undead square in the chest. The burst snapped back to the mont.
“Right,” I muttered, forcing my body upright, steadying my breath.
The three that had paralyzed were already chanting again, huddled together, trembling hands kindling with fire. I couldn’t let them finish. Launching forward, the sand buckled beneath my feet, and my fist t the first one’s skull with a crunch that echoed through my arm.
It caved inward, but to their credit, the others didn’t falter. Flas spread from within them, climbing their bodies like living veins of light. I could feel their fear and their hesitation in that act. Perhaps the ignition of that inner fire carried a terrible implication, a price they dreaded to pay.
But how could I stop now? The choices had already been made. Though a sluggish weight coiled around my limbs—the spell taking hold—Luna’s thorns erupted from my wrist, her vines wrapping the burning undead in a tightening embrace.
It scread, a raw sound that scraped the air, as motion returned to my body. I turned to the last of them. For an instant, hesitation t my eyes at the recognition of fear. They hadn’t ant true harm until now. They weren’t the sa as the three who had dragged into this place.
Still… he fell in the next breath.
With each one’s death, the weight pressing against my chest lifted. My Internal Force began to flow again in rhythm, no longer needing my companions’ support. The Domain of Death started to waver, thinning as every corpse sank into the sand, returning to the earth.
Movent rippled through the Nikes. One by one they stirred, trembling at first like their fallen comrade, then steadying. Wings flexed, testing the air. Their gazes sharpened; the exhaustion in their eyes burned away, replaced by sothing far fiercer.
Even in my spent state, I could feel the turn of the battle. I’d only seen a true battlefield once before, in that illusion, that test. This was smaller, yes, but the outco was now unmistakable.
Bristle bounded past , his fur bristling, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest before he loosed another bolt of fla. The shot arced perfectly, shearing away half the skull of a still-standing foe.
“Good boy,” I breathed, forcing my legs to move toward another cluster. My muscles scread with every step. The Internal Force still ran through , but thin, nearly drained from the explosion. Still, there was no ti to stop.
So I moved. Again.
And again.
Others arrived—from the town, the outskirts, the lower ruins—but all were crushed.
I was running out of stamina. Fast. The air scorched my lungs, the heat hamred down on past the clouds, and every mont clawed deeper into what little strength remained.
But at last, the true shift ca.
I wasn’t certain why they hadn’t acted until now. What danger had restrained them? Perhaps the restriction itself had been deadly. After all, one of their own had already perished. But now, at last, the air shifted.
A wall of wind roared across the field.
The gale tore through the chaos, shredding the lingering cries and obliterating everything caught in its wake. Sand spiraled upward, coalescing into blinding storms that swallowed the world in gold.
I fell to one knee, lungs heaving, vision fraying at the edges. The pressure was imnse, the sound deafening. For a heartbeat, I thought I would collapse completely until Bristle darted back through the tempest, his body braced beneath my arm, steadying upright.
From within the storm, sounds erged. Not screams, not pain. Only the ghostly chorus of the wind itself.
Eerie.
When the dust finally began to settle, I raised my head and looked out across the field. Bones lay strewn in crooked patterns, half-buried in sand, slivers of drying flesh clinging stubbornly to what remained. And as I took it in, a single thought pulsed through :
How could the Nikes have ever been conquered?
They moved as one. So soared through the air while others swept low across the ground, but all in perfect, wordless harmony. Ripples of air shimred from their wings, weaving streams of green light that pulsed in unison. It was almost hive-like, an entire species breathing as a single organism.
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Yet the longer I watched, the more I understood. Their strength wasn’t endless. It was concentrated, compressed into every motion, every gust. Their Air Force, though fierce, was finite. Smaller in breadth than what I could summon with my own Internal Power. And still, I knew: if one of their blasts struck head-on, I would be nothing but dust.
Harua approached through the thinning haze, her steps impossibly light. Not a feather on her body seed touched by dirt. She spared no glance for the dwindling battle behind her.
“You are difficult to predict,” she said, her tone as calm as ever.
I exhaled, tilting my head toward the sky. “You’re the last person I want to hear that from.”
Her eyes flickered with faint amusent. “But you are curious, aren’t you?”
She settled beside , folding her wings neatly. Then, extending one toward , she revealed the underside where a hand might have been if she were human. Slowly, threads of light began to gather there. Tiny particles drifted upward from her feathers, converging above her palm until they ford a delicate sphere of lines, thin as silken thread. The strands began to spin, weaving tighter and faster, stirring the air with a gentle pulse.
“We don’t hold much,” she said softly, a bright note in her voice, “but with a strong connection and understanding, it can spin.”
I blinked, brow furrowing. “Spin?”
She nodded, her feathers catching the faint light. “Sleep for now. I’ll teach you soon.”
There was no argunt left in . Bristle shifted his weight, helping ease down to the ground. The heat still pressed heavily from above, though streaks of dark cloud offered the faintest relief. My body sank into the sand, and before long, darkness pulled under.
When I fell, a voice was already speaking.
#
“He’s reversing it!” my disciple shouted, flas flaring high from his scalp, the heat distorting the air between us.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, half amused by his outrage. “Reversing what? You believe it’s my duty to dictate how Creation is used?”
His mouth opened, then shut again, words dying before they ford.
I sighed, shaking my head slowly. “You think too narrowly. Perhaps that’s my fault for driving you so far down this path, making you see only in the light of Creation and Destruction. There’s far more than that. Consider your fellow disciples.”
He groaned, frustrated, shaking his head. “They ca later, it’s not the sa. But you’re letting this man—this thing—create—” He stopped himself, unable to finish the thought, his confusion plain.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, dimming the flas that crowned him until his flesh reappeared. “My youngest pupil forged new energies as well. This being rely follows the sa instinct.”
He tore away from , anger flaring anew as he turned and shouted: “HE WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING! THIS WORLD WILL CEASE TO EXIST! Master please! You have to act!”
My eyes narrowed. “No. If I alter the rules, then what happens when I’m gone? Will soone else act in turn on those below them?”
His gaze was lost, distant, and I truly wished I could make him understand. “There is nothing infinite in this world,” I said quietly.
“But—” he began, only for my raised palm to silence him.
“This world—my world—cannot endure forever. I have carried it as long as I could. But soon, I will depart. He will beco the Precursor of the next world. His bloodline is stronger, his essence pure. His Stagnation will not co for…” I shrugged, lips tightening. “Much longer than mine. But my end has already arrived. Who can say how far he will go?”
“You’re leaving?” My student’s voice cracked on the word, eyes wide with disbelief, dismissing the rest. “What—what will we do?”
I smiled faintly. “As always. The right thing.”
He released a slow, unsteady breath. “What if he prevents the next one from coming?”
I brought a hand to my chin, considering. “Well, when I return, there is a thod to extend the world’s span. That is, if I even—”
“You can’t!” he roared, flas lashing upward, licking the high columns of the chamber.
I arched a brow. “Of course I can.”
He dragged a hand down his face, frustration trembling in his fingers. “I know you can,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m saying you shouldn’t.”
I gave a small shrug. “Then so be it. We end here. Before a third or even fourth even rises… Do you truly believe the second could drive away the next ones? Do you think fate can be challenged so easily?”
“You destroyed fate,” he retorted, anger building.
A soft chuckle escaped . “Did I? It was a part of my life for so long, I’d nearly forgotten. Fine then. Luck. Do you think he’s that lucky? Seeing what we have of his life, I’d say he’s on the losing end there.” I smiled faintly. “You worry too much.”
He bowed deeply, hands clasped tight. “I’m only worried about you.”
I stepped forward and embraced him. “You’ll take care of the rest. I know you will. The last remnants of Determination must not be allowed to take root.”
He nodded against my shoulder, silent. When I released him, we shared one final look, and then, he turned flying away without another sound.
My hand lingered in the empty air he’d left behind.
“Destroying fate…” I murmured, exhaling softly. “Why did I ever think it possible? My purpose was never to erase you, but only to keep you from interfering.”
I closed my eyes, allowing my hand to trace the river.
It began at my feet. A gentle tingling, almost soothing. Then it climbed upward, spreading through my body like a tide.
It’s all right. I’ve taught them how to prolong the world. Even if that creature truly reaches Stagnation, another will rise to take my place. There will always be another.
My thoughts began to unravel, drifting loose like threads in a current. It grew harder to think, harder to separate self from stream. The flow of fate and I entwined, indistinguishable. Together, we beca sothing greater.
I wonder how long it will take them to master this…My energies and fate, united, will beco one. A guiding Force for all worlds. As long as others can carry you, you can never control them. Fate will be at the hands of the individual.
And then, I saw it. For the briefest instant.
Eternity.
It could… it can… Then I must—
Forgive … I—can’t—return.
Goodbye.
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