The skies above Hallowvale still shimmered with fading threads of divine magic as Sion stirred weakly, barely conscious. His body trembled, every breath a struggle.
"Raphael…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
She leaned in, clutching his hand, eyes wet with fear. "I'm here."
Sion's lips parted with effort. "I'm… sorry."
Then his eyes rolled back, and his body went limp.
Raphael froze, pressing her hand to his chest. He was alive—but only just.
Far across the kingdom, hooves thundered down the dirt road as a royal carriage raced toward the ravaged village. Inside, Sara sat upright, her knuckles white around her sword's hilt. Katherine sat beside her, silent, her eyes fixed forward.
"How bad do you think it is?" Sara asked quietly.
Katherine didn't answer immediately. "The message said 'injured,' but knowing Sion… it must be worse than that."
Beneath the Sea of Klara, in the drowned hollows of the earth, shadows danced against stone walls carved with ancient sigils. Inside a massive, submerged cathedral of bone and obsidian, a sea of black-robed worshippers knelt in reverence.
Candles floated on blood-filled basins. Low chants echoed in a forgotten tongue.
At the far end of the temple sat a throne of twisted iron and ribcage, pulsing with a heartbeat not its own.
Then—the voice came. Cold. Commanding. The same voice Sion had heard amid battle.
"The boy is not dangerous… yet. But he will be."
The congregation stilled. The voice vibrated through the very stones.
"Prepare the human sacrifices. Take the firstborn from every household. The chains grow weak. Our master stirs."
"Soon, we shall seize the mortal realm."
"Obey."
A hush fell across the crowd. The voice grew darker, more venomous.
"But be wary of him. That boy. We cannot afford exposure—not yet."
"When the time is right, I will kill him myself."
The chamber erupted again in manic praise. The voice vanished like smoke. Silence returned to the deep.
By the time Sara and Katherine reached the outskirts of Hallowvale, the sun had begun to rise—but its light revealed only devastation.
They stepped from the carriage and stopped, stunned.
The entire valley had been shattered.
A crater stretched across the land, a massive scar through earth and stone. Mountains nearby were split in two. Forests lay flattened. The very sky above still shimmered with divine residue.
Sara's voice caught in her throat. "What kind of battle did Sion fight here… and against what?"
Katherine scanned the terrain with grim precision. "Where are the Titan corpses?"
"There should be remains," Sara muttered. "Even divine power leaves bones."
But nothing was left. Only ash. The sheer intensity of Sion's magic had vaporized it all.
"Knights!" Sara called sharply. "Fan out and search for him! Now!"
"Yes, prime minister!" the captain answered. The squad dispersed instantly.
Minutes passed like hours—until a shout pierced the stillness.
"Duke Sion is here!"
Sara and Katherine ran toward the sound. What they found stopped them in their tracks.
Sion lay collapsed at the edge of the crater. His clothes were in tatters, blood stained his chest and legs, and his right arm was grotesquely damaged. His broken sword lay beside him, the divine edge shattered beyond repair.
Sara fell to her knees beside him, shaking him gently. "Sion? Sion, please—wake up."
But he remained unconscious.
Katherine, still standing, turned her gaze back to the crater. Her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't a random blast pattern. The crater was shaped like a human form—massive, divine in scale.
"This wasn't just divine magic," she murmured. "What were you fighting, Sion?"
The healer approached quickly and knelt beside him, pressing glowing hands to Sion's chest.
"His condition is critical," the healer said, voice tight. "His body's sustained massive trauma. Bones shattered, internal bleeding, severe aura instability. He won't survive without immediate intervention. We must take him to the capital—now."
Without hesitation, Sara and Katherine gave the order. With the help of their knights, they carefully lifted Sion onto a reinforced stretcher, warded with protective sigils.
The royal carriage turned back toward the capital, racing against time.
As it vanished into the horizon, wind swept across the battlefield—soft, mournful.
Whatever had awakened in Hallowvale… was only the beginning.