The King clawed at the ground, his fingers digging deep into the earth as the portal’s pull grew in strength. His crimson cape snapped wildly in the wind, and his once-imposing figure was reduced to a desperate, flailing shadow of himself. His crimson eyes blazed with fury and fear as his feet began to slide toward the portal’s glowing maw.
“You think this will save you?” he snarled, his voice ragged as he tried to push himself upright. His dark magic surged, crackling around him as he fought against the pull. The ground beneath him fractured, glowing with an unnatural light as he planted his hands firmly, his power trying to anchor him in place.
Eryon stepped forward, his boots crunching against the broken earth. His amber eyes burned with a fierce light, his expression hard as stone. His movements were steady, unhurried, each step deliberate as he closed the distance between himself and the struggling King.
“This is for Misery,” Eryon growled, his voice low but carrying the weight of all his fury and grief.
The King’s head snapped up, his lips curling into a snarl, but before he could respond, Eryon swung his clawed hand with devastating force. The blow connected with a sickening crack, sending the King sprawling. His body twisted as the portal’s pull took hold, dragging him toward the light. He let out one final, rage-filled scream before the portal consumed him entirely.
The moment the King disappeared, the Shadowbound army collapsed into chaos. Leaderless, they faltered, their twisted forms breaking apart and dissolving into shadows that were swept into the portal. The battlefield grew eerily quiet as the wind began to die down, the Moon’s fractured light fading as the portal slowly closed.
Eryon stood motionless, his claws still raised, his chest heaving with exertion. The glow in his amber eyes dimmed as the reality of what had just happened settled over him. His hand dropped to his side, and he turned, searching for Lyra.
Lyra had fallen to her knees, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her knife lay forgotten on the ground, her silver eyes fixed on the Moon as its cracks slowly healed. The air around her was thick with the aftermath of the battle, and tears streaked her bloodied face.
“Lyra!” Isla’s voice broke the silence as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside her daughter. Draven followed close behind, his strong hands steadying Lyra as she swayed. Isla cupped Lyra’s face, her silver eyes filled with worry. “Are you hurt?”
Lyra shook her head weakly, her gaze dropping to the blood staining her hands. “It’s over,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
From the edge of the battlefield, Adrian watched silently. His crimson eyes locked on Lyra, unreadable as he stood motionless, his figure half-hidden in the shadows.
For a moment, it seemed as though he might step forward, but he didn’t move.