Xyenn drifted through an endless expanse of radiant beauty. The sky around him shimmered like liquid light, its brilliance flowing in soft, ever-changing waves. It wasn't empty—it was alive. Trails of gold and silver mist curled and danced through the air, weaving intricate patterns that dissolved into nothingness, only to reform into something even more mesmerizing. The light wasn't blinding but warm and gentle, wrapping around him like a soft embrace.
He floated effortlessly, weightless, his body swaying in harmony with the current of this luminous realm. The air—or whatever it was—hummed faintly, a soothing resonance that seemed to vibrate within his very soul. Tiny motes of light, like glowing fireflies, drifted around him, some brushing against his skin and leaving trails of warmth in their wake. Others hovered just out of reach, pulsing softly like distant stars.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm with the waves of light around him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no chaos. No blood. No fear. Just quiet. Just peace.
"Is this what true peace feels like?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the vastness of this radiant sky.
He tilted his head back, staring upward—or perhaps downward, as direction seemed meaningless here. The light stretched endlessly in all directions, its brilliance shifting between soft hues of gold, white, and faint pinks. There were no harsh edges, no boundaries, only an infinite expanse of serenity.
As he floated, Xyenn's thoughts began to wander. The peace he felt wasn't just external—it was inside him. It crept into the cracks of his soul, filling the empty spaces he hadn't even known were there. He closed his eyes, letting the light wash over him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to question.
"Is this what I've been searching for?" he thought. "After everything I've done, after all I've fought for… is this the answer? Is this what it means to feel whole?"
Memories of his life flickered through his mind like distant echoes. The battles, the sacrifices, the burdens he had carried—they all felt so far away now, as though they belonged to someone else. He thought of the people he had killed out of survival, the ones he had fought to protect, and the ones who had stood beside him.
"I've been fighting for a bit..but it feels like it's been for so long," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Fighting to survive. Fighting to protect. Fighting to… exist. But here…"
He stretched out a hand, watching as the light gathered around his fingertips. It pulsed gently, almost like it was alive, responding to his touch. The warmth spread through him, deeper than his skin, deeper than his bones. It reached the very core of him, touching the parts of himself that he had hidden away for so long.
"This is peace," he realized, his voice soft and filled with wonder. "Not the absence of struggle. Not some illusion of safety. True peace. The kind that comes from within."
'I won't be overwhelmed by my issues. But this feeling…just this feeling of being completely safe. This feeling of not having to worry, is this something I always wanted? Everyday for my life I has to fight for something, whether it be my life, for food, water, shelter..I just want it to end. Here…it feels like I completed my goal. Peace and happiness, that's my end goal, isn't it? To see my efforts pay off? After fighting for so long, I'll stand on the corpses of my failures and regrets. And turn them into strength. Am I thinking about all of this because I'm in this weird ass realm? Or is it motivating me? My goals are right here in my face, and it's just for a moment, it's right in front of me. Calling out to me, wanting me to grasp it. Stakes are rising, always. New enemy after the next, but I won't now to any fucking thing. Screw that. I didn't lose an eye and have a cursed arm for no reason. Demons want me to be their slave, their own monster. Haldrek pressured me to become a monster like him to see real successful results in my journey. Even I had times where I thought maybe they weren't wrong, but then as I kept fighting, I saw what monsters truly are. If I were to become one, I'd be my first target. That day I killed the bandits still gets to me, the way I acted after, it still claws at me. Demons and Haldrek are using that as fuel against me. As someone who was always beaten by bandits and pushed around, I almost took the damn bait. Haldrek..almost convinced me.'
The revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, he felt as though he were floating higher, the light lifting him further into its embrace. He closed his eyes again, letting himself sink into the warmth, letting it cradle him, heal him.
But then, from deep within, something stirred.
It was faint at first, barely noticeable—a shadow flickering at the edges of his mind. But it grew quickly, spreading like ink spilled into water. The warmth he had felt was suddenly tinged with an unsettling heat, and his body began to tense.
"No," he muttered, his voice trembling as the shadow clawed its way to the surface.
The darkness inside him hated this place. It thrashed violently, recoiling from the purity of the light. The peace he had felt was like poison to it, and it lashed out, desperate to escape.
Xyenn's breathing grew ragged as the shadow began to consume him. His thoughts turned frantic, chaotic, his mind spiraling into a storm of fear and anger. He clawed at his chest, his nails digging into his skin as though he could rip the darkness out of himself.
"Get out…" he snarled, his voice raw, guttural, and filled with pain.
The shadow surged, and Xyenn fell to his knees—or at least, he felt like he did, though the ground didn't exist here. The radiant sky around him dimmed, the light flickering violently as the darkness within him fought to take control.
The shadow didn't relent. It lashed out again, and Xyenn's body convulsed. He screamed, his hands gripping his arms so tightly that his nails left marks. The light around him wavered, struggling to hold its ground against the shadow's onslaught.
Images of his past flashed through his mind—moments of despair, of anger, of hatred. The times he had given in to the darkness, letting it consume him.
But then, amidst the chaos, he remembered.
He remembered the times he had fought back. The moments when he had stood his ground, even when it felt impossible. He remembered the people who had believed in him, the Tyrants, the ones who had refused to give up on him, even when he had given up on himself.
The shadow thrashed violently, but Xyenn held firm. He focused on the light, the warmth, the peace. Slowly, he began to push back, not with anger, but with resolve.
"This isn't your fucking place," he said, his voice growing steadier.
With one final scream, the darkness broke. It recoiled deep within him, retreating to whatever corner of his soul it had come from. The light surged back, stronger than before, and Xyenn collapsed, his body trembling as he floated once again in the radiant expanse.
The warmth returned, soothing the raw edges of his soul. The light began to work on him again, its energy flowing through him like a gentle tide. He felt it reach deep into his being, touching the corrupted runes etched into his soul.
One by one, the runes began to change. They glowed faintly, their shapes shifting into something new. The first rune, curved like a crescent moon, shimmered with a soft silver light: ᚧ. Another rune, sharp and angular with jagged edges, glowed with a vibrant gold hue: ᚦ. The final rune, intricate and spiraling like the branches of a tree, pulsed faintly with a warm blue light: ᚭ.
Each rune settled into place, their light blending seamlessly with the purity around him. Xyenn felt the weight of them, not as a burden, but as a part of himself—a balance between the light and the darkness that had shaped him.
A single tear slipped from his eye, disappearing into the glow around him. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke.
"Is this true peace?"
'In the midst of darkness, I'll float forever until I reach dominion over the darkness myself. The First Monarch has kept tabs on me since I've been contracted to Yuuna. I know this now. As the king of Hell, there's no telling what else he can do. I won't falter, I won't be a monster, I'll be free one day. Even if I have to lose another eye, I won't be conquered. I'll kill them all.'
The world around Kivorn was radiant, a kaleidoscope of colors and life that stretched endlessly in every direction. He stood in the middle of a vast, sunlit field, the golden grass swaying gently in a warm breeze. The sky above was the deepest blue, dotted with soft clouds that drifted lazily, their shapes evoking the whimsical imagination of a child. The air was crisp, clean, and rich with subtle fragrances—wildflowers, fresh earth, and the faint sweetness of ripened fruit hanging from nearby trees. Birds chirped a merry tune, their songs weavingeffortlessly into the symphony of rustling leaves and buzzing insects.
For a moment, Kivorn could only stand there, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by something raw, fragile, and vulnerable. His breath hitched as he looked down at his hands and realized they were smaller, softer—his arms thinner, his legs shorter. A wave of disbelief washed over him as he touched his face, feeling the smooth, delicate features of a child. He was no longer the exhausted, emotionless elf who trudged through life like a hollow shell. He was himself again. A child. A child who still carried joy in his heart.
A cautious step forward turned into another, and then suddenly, he was running. He didn't know why or toward what, but his heart urged him on. The grass brushed against his legs, soft and ticklish, as he sprinted through the field. He laughed—an unfiltered, jubilant sound that startled even himself. That laugh. He hadn't heard it in so long. It was his, but it felt like a relic of a forgotten past, something that had been buried deep under layers of apathy and emptiness.
Ahead, the field opened into a wonderland of delights. A sparkling brook wound its way through the meadow, its crystal-clear waters babbling happily as it tumbled over smooth stones. Tall trees with inviting, low-hanging branches surrounded a vibrant patch of wildflowers, their petals vibrant with hues of violet, red, and gold. A simple wooden swing dangled from a sturdy oak, swaying gently in the breeze. Nearby, a kite fluttered in midair, its string loosely tied to a wooden post. A pile of smooth stones sat by the brook, perfect for skipping. Everything here seemed to exist solely to bring him joy.
Kivorn's mouth opened in awe as he took it all in. He didn't question it. He didn't analyze it. For once, he didn't care to know why or how. He simply wanted to feel.
He ran to the swing first, grabbing the rough, knotted rope with his small hands. He leapt onto the wooden seat and began pumping his legs, each swing carrying him higher and higher until he felt as though he could touch the sky. The wind whipped through his hair, and he laughed again—a joyous, uncontrollable sound that came from deep within his chest. He leaned back, letting his head fall as he swung, watching the world blur into golden streaks of light.
When he finally slowed, he hopped off, his feet landing lightly in the grass. His eyes sparkled as they darted to the brook, where the water glistened like liquid silver. He crouched at its edge, his hands dipping into the cool water, sending ripples cascading outward. The sensation made him giggle—giggle in a way he hadn't since he was truly a child. He picked up one of the smooth stones, feeling its weight in his palm before flicking it across the surface of the water. It skipped once, twice, three times before sinking. He grabbed another, eager to try again.
He lost track of time. The brook. The swing. The kite that soared high above him as he ran through the field, holding its string. A game of chasing butterflies through the wildflowers, their delicate wingsbrushing against his cheeks. He played with everything, his laughter filling the meadow like music. The joy he felt was pure, untainted by fear or doubt. It was the kind of joy he had yearned for his entire life, the kind he thought he would never feel again. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he ran, unstoppable and uncontrollable, but they weren't tears of sorrow. They were tears of overwhelming happiness, of longing finally fulfilled.
"I'm happy," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling as he wiped at his cheeks. "I'm… happy."
He hadn't realized how much he missed this—missed being free, uninhibited by the weight of the world. He had been cursed so long ago, stripped of his joy, his laughter, his ability to feel anything other than emptiness. His own people had rejected him for the very thing that made him special, that made him *him*. They had called him an anomaly, a stain on their rigid society. And so, they had sanctioned him, cursed him to be hollow, to wear a mask of indifference and fake smiles while the world around him continued to laugh and live. He had grown bitter, watching others feel what he could not, jealousy festering deep in his heart.
They could laugh. They could cry. They could feel. And he had to sit there, pretending to be fine, pretending to be *normal*. But he wasn't normal. He was a hollow tree stump, empty and dead inside, incapable of anything real. This joy—this beautiful, radiant joy—was something he had been deprived of for so long that it felt alien, almost too much to bear. But he didn't want it to stop. He never wanted it to stop.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Kivorn found himself standing at the edge of a cliff. The field stretched out behind him, and beyond the cliff's edge, the world opened up in a breathtaking expanse of rolling hills, sparkling rivers, and distant mountains. The setting sun painted the landscape in hues of gold and crimson, the light warm against his skin. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and the soft rustle of leaves.
"This," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "This is what I've wanted. All my life. This feeling. This… joy."
His fingers curled into fists at his sides as his voice grew stronger, more desperate. "I've been so jealous. Watching everyone else live. Watching them laugh, cry, feel. And me? I've been nothing. A hollow, empty shell. A fucking *elf* who can't even feel alive. I've spent so long pretending, putting on fake smiles, acting like I'm fine. But I'm not fine. I've never been fine."
Silence fell as his words hung in the air. He stood there, the wind tugging at his hair, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The light began to shift, growing brighter, warmer, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He let it in, let it touch the deepest parts of his soul that had been locked away for so long.
And then it came—an overwhelming wave of emotion that crashed over him like a tidal wave. It was too much, too intense, too beautiful. The joy, the happiness, the *realness* of it all filled him to the brim, spilling over until he couldn't contain it anymore.
A scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, as he doubled over, tears streaming down his face. But it wasn't a scream of pain—it was one of joy. Pure, unfiltered, unrestrained joy. He screamed because he could feel it. He screamed because he finally felt alive.
"Thank you," he choked out between sobs, his voice trembling as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the cliff. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me feel this, even just for a moment. I wanna work harder..to feel this eternally..fuck I don't wanna leave. I wanna stay here. Maybe even forever. To make up for the years I've been hollow…empty. I don't wanna leave…please let me stay, Clerics."
The light pulsed gently, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. He closed his eyes, letting himself be consumed by it, letting it work its way into his soul. The tears kept coming, and so did the screams. But for the first time in his life, they weren't screams of emptiness.
They were screams of being whole.
The vision began with Yuuna standing in the middle of a vast field, her bare feet brushing against soft grass that shimmered faintly with an ethereal glow. The sky above her was a deep bronze, rich and warm, casting the entire field in a golden hue. The air was alive with peace and serenity, so still and quiet that the gentle rustling of the grass seemed like the loudest sound. Around her, clusters of white roses bloomed in abundance, their petals glowing faintly with a soft, bright light. She wore a flowing white dress that swayed gently in the breeze, and for once, she felt… clean. Pure.
Yuuna's usual chaotic energy was gone, replaced by a quiet calm as she slowly turned in place, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes lingered on the roses, the way their light seemed to pulse gently, almost in rhythm with her own heartbeat. She lifted her hands, brushing her fingers across the petals of one flower. A slight chuckle escaped her lips, soft but full of wonder.
"This is… different," she murmured to herself, her voice unusually quiet.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. Slowly, she turned her head, and her breath hitched.
Approaching her from the side was a spirit-like being, radiant and otherworldly. The figure rode atop a small, elegant horse, its coat a shimmering blend of white and deep purple, like twilight captured in motion. The horse's mane flowed like silk, and its hooves barely touched the ground, leaving no trace of its passing.
The spirit wore a gown similar to Yuuna's, simple yet impossibly beautiful, its fabric glowing faintly with a light that seemed to shift between silver and gold. Her long golden hair was intricately braided in a way Yuuna had never seen before—a lattice of loops and twists that framed her shoulders and cascaded down her back. A delicate crown rested atop her head, its design unique, almost celestial, with filigree patterns resembling stars and crescent moons.
The spirit's face, however, was obscured by a glowing light that pulsed softly, concealing her features entirely. Yet her porcelain arms, scarred and cracked like old, fragile pottery, extended out from the flowing sleeves of her gown, their imperfections stark against the rest of her radiant form.
Yuuna's heart clenched, the calmness she had felt moments ago now replaced by a flood of emotions she couldn't yet name. Her lips trembled as a single word escaped her, barely audible.
"Mom…?"
The spirit said nothing. She simply dismounted the horse with a grace that felt almost unnatural, landing softly on the grass. Her glowing, scarred hand reached to her chest, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—she began to pull a sword from within her body.
The blade emerged with a faint hum, its surface glistening like molten bronze. As the sword left her chest, the white roses around them erupted in a stunning display, blooming outward like an explosion of light. The petals scattered into the air, glowing like tiny stars as they floated gently back to the ground.
Yuuna stood frozen, her lips parted in shock. The sight was beautiful, yes, but it was also overwhelming—so much so that she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
The spirit turned to her, extending a hand.
Yuuna hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and grasping the spirit's hand. It was warm, comforting, and as soon as their fingers touched, something deep inside Yuuna's heart softened. Without a word, the spirit helped her onto the back of the horse, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.
The horse began to move, its steps light and purposeful, and soon it broke into a gallop. Yuuna clung to the spirit tightly, her arms wrapped around her waist as they raced through the field.
It was then that the demons came.
They rose from the ground like shadows given form, their bodies twisted and malformed. Some had elongated limbs that bent at unnatural angles, their skin a sickly gray-green and covered in jagged ridges. Others had hollow, sunken eyes that glowed faintly, their mouths split into too many rows of sharp, uneven teeth. Their torsos were armored with bone-like plating, and their clawed hands dragged along the ground, leaving trails of decay wherever they touched.
The spirit raised her sword, and with each swing, the demons evaporated into mist. There was no blood, no gore—only the quiet hiss of their forms dissolving back into nothingness. The horse galloped faster, the light of its hooves burning away any darkness in its path.
Yuuna's voice broke the silence as she clung to the spirit, her words soft but steady.
"I've been so tired," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Without you, I've felt so… lost. I keepwondering… if you were here, would I have been different? Or maybe… maybe I wouldn't have been able to grow. To change. You gave me that opportunity, didn't you?"
The spirit said nothing, but Yuuna could feel her presence—warm, steady, and patient.
"I've been fighting so much," Yuuna continued, her words coming more freely now. "Dragon gods. The Lysfødt... And some nights, I can't sleep. I sneak away from the others, and I sing. I sing the songs we made together. Because it reminds me of you. It keeps me going. It keeps me from falling back into… what I used to be. A horrible being. Almost becoming what my father wanted me to be, his monster. And I was that."
Her grip tightened slightly around the spirit. "I used to be a villain to the masses. You know that, don't you? But I've changed. I've worked so hard to change. And I've fallen in love, Mom. His name's Xyenn. He's… well, he's a Jotyin. You'd love him, I think. Wait I told you about him, didn't I? Yeah yeah I did. Ta-da! We're still together."
A faint chuckle escaped her lips, breaking through the emotion in her voice. "He can be kind of a bird brain… reckless, easily flustered. But…" She hesitated, her voice softening. "He's like you. He knows my weakness. He doesn't judge me for it. He just… keeps me going."
Her voice grew quieter, tinged with sadness. "But sometimes, I feel like I can't keep going. I've got my Tyrants—they're like my children, in a way—but I'm so scared of losing them. I can't help but think about it. The stakes are so high, and…..I don't want to lose anyone else. After losing you, I can't handle another loss. I would change, I feel."
Her words trailed off as the horse galloped faster, the spirit slicing through wave after wave of demons. In the distance, the field began to change, darkening into a desolate, apocalyptic wasteland. The ground was cracked and lifeless, the air thick with ash. The sky, once bronze and warm, was now a swirling mix of black and crimson, with no light to be found.
Yuuna held onto the spirit tighter, her tears falling silently. She didn't need to speak anymore. Just being in her mother's presence was enough.
It was then that she heard it—the faint sound of music in the distance.
Soft, ambient, and hauntingly beautiful, the melody rose like a whisper on the wind. A lute played a delicate tune, its strings weaving a gentle harmony with the steady beat of a drum. A flute joined in, its notes light and airy, like a bird's song. And beneath it all, a harp added a shimmering depth, its chords resonating with an almost divine quality.
Yuuna began to hum softly, her voice blending with the music.
🎵 "In the fields where roses bloom,
Under skies of bronze and gold,
A song of light, a heart of flame,
A story waiting to be told." 🎵
The spirit's voice joined hers, soft and ethereal, harmonizing perfectly.
🎵 *"Through the dark, where shadows stay,
We ride to chase the night away,
A sword of light, a bond of kin,
A love that burns within."* 🎵
The horse galloped faster, the music swelling as they raced through the apocalyptic landscape. Demons came in waves, but the spirit cut them down with ease, her sword flashing like lightning. Yuuna clung to her mother, her face buried in her back, tears streaming down her cheeks.
And then, the horse slowed.
They had reached the edge of the wasteland, where a towering figure awaited them.
The demon monarch stood in the center of the desolation, his form immense and imposing. His body was a monstrous fusion of flesh and armor, his seven arms each wielding jagged, demonic blades. His face was stale and emotionless, but had blades and arrows stabbing through it already, and chains around his neck, with his hair large and bushy. Spiraling red eyes adorned the weapons, glowing faintly with a malevolent light. His head was crowned with flaming orbs that hovered ominously above him, and his massive, armored horse-like body stomped against the ground, sending tremors through the earth. Behind him, a massive circle of glowing red runes burned in the air, pulsing with raw, ancient power.
Yuuna's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the figure.
The spirit dismounted the horse, her movements calm and deliberate. She turned to Yuuna, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.
Yuuna reached out, her voice breaking. "Mom…!"
But before she could grab her, the spirit stepped away, dodging her grasp with a peaceful, almost knowing stride.
The spirit began to walk toward the demon monarch, her sword glowing brighter with each step.
The spirit and the demon monarch stood facing each other, their forms stark contrasts against theapocalyptic wasteland. The spirit's radiant light pulsed softly, her glowing porcelain arms steady as she held the shimmering bronze sword. Her golden hair swayed gently in the howling wind, her serene presence unshaken even before such a monstrous foe. The demon monarch, Xlemmeth, loomed large and terrible, his seven jagged blades gleaming with spiraling red eyes. The massive runes circling behind him burned with searing crimson fire, casting shadows that danced erratically across the cracked and lifeless ground. His massive, armored horse body stomped, sending tremors rippling through the earth.
The two figures began to walk toward each other, their steps slow and deliberate, the distance between them shrinking with every stride. The groundbeneath their feet cracked with each step, light streaming out from the spirit's path while darkness oozed from Xlemmeth's. The air grew heavy, charged with an unbearable tension, and a low hum began to build—a sound that resonated deep in Yuuna's chest, like the very fabric of reality was bracing for what was about to come.
Yuuna stood frozen, her eyes wide as she watched them. Her chest tightened, her senses heightened as if this vision were reality itself. She could feel the dry wind on her skin, hear the distant rumble of the ground, and even smell the ash that hung in the air.
Their steps quickened. The spirit's sword began to glow brighter with each stride, and Xlemmeth's runes flared like wildfire. Faster and faster they walked, the ground cracking violently beneath their feet as the energy around them intensified. Soon, they were sprinting, moving faster than seemed possible, their figures blurring as they approached each other.
And then they collided.
The moment their blades met, the world erupted in a blinding explosion of light and darkness. The shockwave blasted outward, tearing through the wasteland and sending debris flying in every direction. Yuuna stumbled back, shielding her eyes as the clash illuminated the entire battlefield. Light and shadow twisted and clashed in chaotic waves, the sheer force of their battle ripping apart the ground, sending jagged fissures racing across the earth.
The battle unfolded at a speed Yuuna could barely comprehend. The spirit moved like a streak of light, her sword flashing with a brilliance that carved through the darkness. Xlemmeth countered with brutal, calculated precision, his seven blades moving in unison, each strike accompanied by a pulse of red energy from the runes on his monstrous body. Their movements were blinding, like watching a storm of light and shadow consume the battlefield.
Yuuna gasped as the spirit's form seemed to shift and grow. For a fleeting moment, her mother's figure expanded into a larger, more ethereal form—a towering, radiant spirit of light. Her sword was now massive, cleaving through the air with devastating force as she swung it down on Xlemmeth. The demon monarch roared, his voice deep and guttural, shaking the ground as he blocked the attack with all seven of his blades. The impact sent another shockwave rippling through the wasteland, scattering ash and debris like a storm.
Xlemmeth retaliated, slamming his hooves into the ground. Massive black demon gates erupted from the earth, their jagged edges covered in glowing runes. From the gates, beams of dark, crackling magic shot upward, arching toward the spirit. The bolts of energy twisted violently, their paths unpredictable, and they struck the ground with explosive force. Each impact left deep, smoldering craters, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning magic.
The spirit dodged the beams with inhuman agility, her larger spirit form shrinking back into her original, more human-like figure. She charged forward, weaving between the attacks with impossible grace, her bronze sword slashing through the dark energy as if cutting through fabric. She closed the distance, her movements faster than ever, and engaged in close combat with Xlemmeth.
The clanging of their blades was deafening, a rapid-fire symphony of destruction. Every strike sent sparks flying, the glow of the spirit's sword clashing against the sinister red of Xlemmeth's runed blades. The runes on his body flared brighter with each swing, and Yuuna could see them more clearly now. Her eyes locked on the largest rune, etched into his armored chest, glowing with a dark, fiery light.
"Xlemmeth…" Yuuna whispered, her voice trembling. "The Demon Monarch of Cataclysm…"
Her hands clenched into fists as a realization dawned on her. "Could this be the same demon monarch who fought King Samuel? The one my mother… saved?"
Her heart raced as she tried to summon her own magic, desperate to help. But nothing happened. She felt the familiar pull of her energy, but it was as though the air itself swallowed it whole. "Of course," she muttered to herself, frustrated. "It's just a vision. But it feels so real…"
The battle raged on, the destruction escalating. The spirit and Xlemmeth moved faster than Yuuna's eyes could follow, their strikes creating shockwaves that tore through the ground and sent debris flying toward her. She ducked and dodged, her reflexes sharp despite her disbelief.
Then, suddenly, there was another massive explosion. The ground shook violently, and Yuuna stumbled, nearly losing her footing. Smoke and ash filled the air, obscuring her vision. But through the chaos, her eyes caught a faint glow—a soft, radiant light in the center of the battlefield.
Heart pounding, Yuuna ran toward it, weaving through the flying debris. The closer she got, the more clearly she could see it. A large, glowing white rose stood amidst the devastation, its petalsshimmering with an otherworldly light. And kneeling before it, bathed in its glow, was the spirit.
Yuuna slowed her steps, her breath catching in her throat. The sight was surreal, almost holy. She approached cautiously, her bare feet brushing against the cracked ground as she drew closer. The spirit slowly stood, her movements graceful and deliberate. She turned to Yuuna and extended a hand.
Yuuna hesitated for only a moment before taking it. The spirit's hand was warm, comforting, and as their fingers intertwined, Yuuna felt a wave of peace wash over her.
Without a word, the spirit led her in a slow, deliberate dance. The smoke and ash around them seemed to fade, replaced by a soft glow thatsurrounded the glowing rose. The two moved in perfect harmony, their steps fluid and precise, as though they had practiced this dance a thousand times before.
Yuuna's chest tightened as memories surfaced—memories of her mother teaching her this very dance when she was a child. Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled through them, her grip on the spirit's hand tightening.
The music from before returned, faint but beautiful, carried on the wind. Yuuna began to hum softly, her voice trembling at first but growing steadier as the melody filled her heart.
🎵 "In the fields where roses bloom,
Under skies of bronze and gold,
A song of light, a heart of flame,
A story waiting to be told." 🎵
The spirit's voice joined hers, soft and ethereal, their harmony weaving seamlessly with the music.
🎵 "Through the dark, where shadows stay,
We ride to chase the night away,
A sword of light, a bond of kin,
A love that burns within." 🎵
Yuuna's tears fell freely now, but her smile never wavered. She spun lightly under the spirit's hand, the two of them moving as one around the glowing rose. The dance was slow, deliberate, filled with unspoken emotion. Yuuna could feel her mother's presence in every step, every movement.
But as they danced, the spirit's form began to wisp away. Slowly, like smoke rising into the air, her figure started to fade. Yuuna's heart clenched, and she tightened her grip on the spirit's hand.
"No…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Mom…"
The spirit smiled—a soft, serene expression that radiated love and peace. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Yuuna's forehead before her form dissolved completely, her essence flowing into the glowing rose.
Yuuna stood there, her hand still outstretched, trembling. Slowly, she dropped to her knees, her fingers brushing against the rose's petals.
"I will find you…" she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face."Mother…"
The rose glowed brighter, its light enveloping her as she knelt there, her heart filled with a quiet, determined resolve.