Lyra gasped as the pressure around her shattered. The spell Jareth had placed on her was gone. A strange emptiness replaced the familiar warmth of his magic, making her shiver.
She staggered back, clutching her arms. "Fujin… I don't feel his magic anymore."
Fujin, standing nearby, tensed. His normally composed expression darkened with unease. "That shouldn't be possible unless…"
Lyra's breath hitched. "Unless he's—"
"No," Fujin cut in firmly. "Look at the city's barrier. It's still intact. If Jareth had fallen, the barrier would've vanished along with his spell. He's alive. There must be another reason he removed it."
Despite his reassurances, Lyra's stomach twisted with anxiety. She wanted to believe him, but the uncertainty gnawed at her.
Then, a powerful presence filled the room.
A golden light descended from the heavens, bathing the chamber in warmth. The air shimmered as a divine figure stepped forth. Goddess Astoria had arrived.
The radiant deity's voice rang like a melody, both soothing and urgent. "Oh dear Lyra, chosen of Fujin, there is another attack coming. This one is much larger than before."
Lyra's fingers clenched into fists. "How many?"
"Enough to overwhelm the city unless you fight them at full strength. I do not know why Jareth removed his spell from you, but he must have a good reason. You should use your Godform, or else the city won't survive."
Lyra hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Then I'll fight. No holding back."
Meanwhile, Nerina sprinted down the stairwell at full speed, each step echoing like a drumbeat. The city was under attack—again—and she had to reach Lyra before it was too late.
Her heart pounded wildly as she pushed her body to its limit. The spiraling stairs blurred around her. She barely registered her surroundings—only the need to reach the bottom, to escape the tower and get to Lyra.
And then—
The entrance loomed before her. Without breaking stride, she burst through the doors, feeling the air shift the moment she was free.
A surge of power exploded from within her as she leaped into the sky. Divine light engulfed her body, reshaping it, strengthening it.
Her Godform emerged—a humanoid figure clad in celestial blue armor, wielding a massive lance glowing with divine energy. Her wings of pure energy unfurled behind her, propelling her forward at an incredible speed.
"I have to reach my sister before something happens to her!"
With a single, powerful beat of her wings, Nerina shot toward the city, leaving behind only a streak of blue light in the sky.
At the same time, deep within the tower, Jareth pressed onward, his urgency mounting with every step. The air grew heavy, thick with an unnatural presence. He could feel it—something dark, something watching him.
Bahamut's voice rumbled in his mind. "Jareth… be careful. I feel the demon's presence growing stronger. This one is different from the Demon Gods outside. He may not be as powerful, but… there is something sinister about him."
Jareth's fingers tightened around his sword. "Something about this place is wrong. It's like the walls themselves are breathing."
He stepped onto the next floor.
And the world around him twisted into a nightmare.
The stone walls pulsed like living flesh, grotesque and unnatural. The door behind him slammed shut with a sickening squelch, sealing him inside. Symbols glowed across the walls, shifting like veins filled with molten darkness. The air was thick with a stench—like rotting meat and burning sulfur.
Then, the trap was sprung.
A monstrous force lashed out, binding Jareth in thick tendrils of shadow. They slithered around him like hungry serpents, tightening with unnatural strength, pulling him toward the pulsating walls.
A voice slithered through the air, its tone dripping with malice and amusement.
"Welcome, interloper. Let's see how well you fare… when the tower itself turns against you."
Jareth struggled, his muscles tensing against the inky restraints, but they did not yield. It wasn't just a physical force—it was something deeper, something gnawing at the edges of his mind. He felt it creeping in, trying to sink into his soul, twisting his very thoughts into doubt and despair.
A deep, primal rage ignited within him. He would not be consumed.
His eyes darkened, his voice a low, seething growl. "You think this will stop me? You think shadows and whispers can break me?"
A surge of raw power flared from within him, Bahamut's essence burning like an inferno in his veins. The darkness recoiled, but it did not retreat completely.
Jareth took a slow, deliberate breath, his grip on his sword unyielding. "You're just another obstacle. And I've crushed worse than you."
Time was slipping away, and outside, war was brewing.
He had to escape. And fast.