The cavern that had once been the heart of power and ambition now lay in ruins, a battlefield of shattered stone and roiling energy. Seraph stood at the center, his form wreathed in a swirling tempest of darkness, eyes burning with an unholy light. Auren and Caleb were still standing, though barely, with the shard of creation pulsing in Auren's hand, casting strange, ethereal shadows that danced like living things across the cracked walls.
"You cannot hold back the end," Seraph whispered, his voice echoing with a chorus of whispers, as if the very air were speaking through him. The once-dominant force of creation was now twisted, consumed by the relentless hunger of the Abyss. His body shimmered with power, no longer flesh and bone, but an amalgamation of energy and shadow.
Auren's throat tightened. The power she had summoned had come at great cost, but it was still there, still strong. It was the only thing holding Seraph back, a final barrier that kept the dark storm from engulfing everything. But that barrier was weakening, cracking with every pulse of Seraph's energy. The chamber itself groaned, its structure threatening to collapse under the weight of their battle.
Caleb was already at the altar, pressing his palms against the cool, rune-carved stone. The mark on his chest throbbed, sending waves of pain that made his muscles spasm and his vision blur. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. The runes flared beneath his touch, glowing with a brilliant, golden light that seared the darkness around them. A strange warmth spread from the altar into his veins, a whisper of power unlike anything he had ever felt. It spoke to him, ancient and primal, urging him to channel it, to use it.
"Caleb!" Auren's voice snapped him from his daze. She was struggling to keep the light alive, her face lit with determination and fear.
"I'm here!" Caleb called back, trying to stay focused. He could feel the pulse of energy syncing with his heartbeat, drawing the pain from the mark on his chest. A new power was awakening within him, raw and untamed.
Seraph's eyes snapped to Caleb, and for the first time, a flicker of doubt crossed his darkened face. The energy from the altar was ancient, older than even the gods themselves. He knew it; it was a force that could not be controlled, a force that had the potential to turn the tide.
"Stop him, Caleb!" Auren shouted, her voice breaking. The shard of creation blazed as she pushed her energy forward, forming a barrier that flared with light. The chamber trembled, stones falling as Seraph's storm clawed at the barrier, trying to break through.
But Caleb felt it—the pulse of power flowing through him, an answer to the call of the altar. It was as if he were standing at the edge of an abyss, looking down into the swirling darkness below, but with the power of the gods at his fingertips. He closed his eyes and let the energy move through him, feeling it seep into his very soul, filling the gaps left by the curse.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes, and they shone with an intense light that reflected the golden runes of the altar. A roar of power escaped him, raw and primal, as he thrust his hands forward. The power he wielded exploded out, a column of golden light that surged toward Seraph. The dark god recoiled, his form splitting and twisting as if the light were a flame threatening to burn him to ash.
"You have no idea what you have unleashed!" Seraph howled, the dark storm around him shattering into a thousand, black shards that fell like rain. But it was too late. The golden light engulfed him, and his voice was silenced as he was thrown backward, vanishing into the black stone behind him.
Silence fell.
Auren's heart pounded in her chest as the golden light dimmed. The cavern was now fractured, the walls split into jagged pieces. The altar, once so proud and mysterious, was now just a whisper of its former glory. Caleb stood at its center, breathing heavily, his body shaking with exhaustion. The mark on his chest had vanished, replaced by the warm glow of the runes that had once only been on the stone.
"It's over," Auren whispered, her voice raw.
Caleb turned to her, the exhaustion on his face giving way to something else. A gleam of hope. "Is it really over?" he asked, his voice barely audible, trembling.
Before Auren could answer, the ground shuddered again, and a deep, guttural laughter rolled through the cavern. It was not Seraph. It was Varyn. The ancient god stepped out of the shadows, his eyes now a tempest of storm and fire, his form shifting between substance and spirit. The real battle had only just begun.