It was a statent from the High Table—a sign of support. The ancestors saw what was unfolding on Earth, and they couldn’t allow Thessara to continue unchecked. But they couldn’t intervene directly either.
There were laws—ancient ones—and though Thessara and the Fallen One had already shattered those laws by residing among the living, the other ancestors couldn’t risk the sa. To hold their place at the High Table, they had to abide by the rules, even as the world below slipped into chaos.
Thessara was bound by the Chain of Light. Her limbs were shackled, her body locked in place. She struggled to summon her power, and her root beneath her was rotted through—its bark corrupted and brittle.
Across from her, the Fallen One staggered, but the sa light that restrained her now cradled him, holding him upright. The contrast was unbearable. Her rage surged anew, igniting behind her eyes like wildfire.
"Those bastards," she hissed under her breath.
Everyone knew the truth—it was an open secret. The Fallen One, once the first among the ancestors, still held the reverence of the High Table. Though exiled and stripped of his title, he was never truly cast out, not in their eyes. He stood bathed in rcy, while she was condemned.
"This is exactly why I want to watch the world burn!" she scread, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade. She glared upward, toward the unseen figures on high. "Because of self-righteous cowards like you! Do you think you’re above it all? I am one of you!"
As Thessara unleashed her fury at the injustice of it all, the Fallen One felt a shift—a tremor in the fabric of the Spectral Seal. The enchantnt he had cast to bind Ol’gaz within Florian’s body was quivering, pulsing with strain. Sothing powerful was stirring, clawing its way to the surface.
It was like a wild bull trapped in a wooden crate far too small for its bulk—thrashing, ramming the walls, desperate to break free. That was the chaos surging inside Florian now. Ol’gaz’s power was growing, stretching against the spectral confines, threatening to tear through the seal and reclaim the vessel.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
As Ol’gaz swelled with strength, Riona’s presence was fading. The Fallen One could barely sense her anymore. Her light, once vibrant and steady, now flickered like a dying fla. He turned his gaze to where her body lay, a shadow of urgency rising in him.
Of course, he wanted to save her. He owed her everything—his return, his redemption. It was instinct to protect her. But if it ca down to Riona or the world...
His jaw tightened. He wouldn’t make the sa mistake again.
Then, he made a decision that would change everything. It was an act of defiance, forbidden by every rule and law he had ever sworn to uphold. He knew the consequences: once this deed was done, there would be no redemption. His na, his reputation would be gone forever.
Yet, despite the certainty of his fall, he chose it. Because at that mont, it was the only way to save the world.
Without hesitation, the Fallen One leapt forward, seizing control, and forced its way into Florian’s body.
***
It was Isharka who first proposed aiding the Fallen One. Cloaked in the guise of stopping Thessara from bringing ruin to the world, he persuaded the other ancestors to lend their strength to the Fallen One’s cause. But in truth, it wasn’t the world he feared for—it was his friend.
Once the Fallen One had left the battlefield, the Chain of Light dissolved. Its purpose was complete—saving the Fallen One had been Isharka’s true aim. But it wasn’t just that. Channeling their powers into the earth had drained the ancestors, leaving them exhausted and spent.
With the Chain of Light gone, Thessara’s scream rent the air. She collapsed to the ground, her body betraying her. Just monts ago, she had been suspended in the air effortlessly, but the power the Chain had drawn out from her was too much. She was weakened. And it showed.
Invisible beings floated in the air, unaffected by gravity, their forms untethered to the earth like phantoms. But severely wounded invisible beings were an anomaly.
At tis, they drifted like fragile leaves caught in the faintest breeze. At others, they collapsed to the ground, forced to move on their own two feet, as mortal as any living creature.
Thessara was no exception. She struggled to stand, her legs unsteady beneath her. One hand clung to the remnants of the walls, while the other clawed desperately at the air, trying to summon the power she could no longer command.
No matter what she did, the root wouldn’t erge. Had she truly drained herself completely? Was she so weak now that she could no longer fight?
No. She only needed sothing—sothing powerful enough to restore her strength. To hell with the High Table. To hell with the ancestors of the Spiritual Circle. She would pay any price to have her revenge. She didn’t care if it ant her own end.
But to exact that revenge, she needed to exist, just long enough to witness the world burn—perhaps even longer, if she could summon the last of her strength to destroy it herself. Even if it led her to Valhalla. She had already sinned beyond redemption. What was one more transgression?
Thessara’s imdiate goal was simple: survive. She stumbled out of the shattered chamber, what was once a room now stripped of doors, windows, or even a proper ceiling.
The castle lay in ruins. Nearly every room had been destroyed. The third floor, where she stood, was split down the middle, a jagged chasm running through the stone like a scar. The upper levels had fared no better—reduced to rubble by Riona’s explosion and the violent clash between the ancestors just monts earlier.
Riona’s body lay to the left—Thessara could sense it. But she didn’t approach. Survival took precedence now. Killing the body would do nothing; Riona’s soul remained trapped in the subconscious. And if she managed to slay Ol’gaz in the dream realm, she could still win.
To prevent that, Thessara needed strength, enough to destroy Riona entirely if the Hybrid erged victorious.
So she turned away, pushing forward, away from Riona’s shell. As she moved through the ruins, distant sounds caught her attention—clashes, snarls, the crackle of power. She followed them.
What she found made her pause.
Her favorite puppet—Emperor Kaan—stood locked in battle. And with him were two werewolves. One of them, Thorin, she was certain she had killed.
"You’re alive," she breathed, her voice a mix of disbelief, disdain, and astonishnt.
The Alpha was locked in combat with the emperor, Puck fighting at his side.
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