The battlefield was quiet now, the Moon’s fractured glow slowly receding, but the pull of its portal remained. Its swirling light shimmered like a living thing, its force dragging everything unanchored toward its radiant maw. Adrian stood at the edge of the battlefield, his crimson eyes fixed on Lyra. The fake baby rested in his arms, its soft cries drowned out by the hum of the portal.
The wind picked up again, tugging at his cloak and hair. Adrian staggered, his boots scraping against the bloodied earth as the portal’s pull grew stronger. He clutched the baby tighter, his jaw tightening as his gaze never left Lyra. The exhaustion and sorrow etched into his face softened for a moment, replaced by something gentler. He mouthed the words, “I love you,” his voice lost in the roar of the Moon’s magic.
Lyra’s silver eyes widened, her trembling hand reaching for him. “Adrian!” she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. She tried to move closer, but the portal’s force pulled at her too, forcing her to stumble back. She strained against it, tears streaming down her face as she watched him brace himself against the inevitable.
Adrian’s expression held both sorrow and peace. He looked at her one last time, his grip tightening on the baby. Without hesitation, he let the portal take him. His body was swept into the light, the glowing swirl consuming him along with the fake child. His crimson eyes never wavered from hers, even as his form disappeared into the void.
“Adrian!” Lyra’s cry echoed across the now-still battlefield, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the hearts of all who heard it. She collapsed to her knees, her body wracked with sobs that cut through the eerie silence left in the portal’s wake.
Behind her, Eryon surged forward, his amber eyes wide with panic.
“My daughter!” he roared, his voice cracking with anguish. He sprinted toward the portal, his hands outstretched as though he could pull her back. But before he could reach it, the light flickered and then vanished entirely, leaving only the cracked surface of the Moon overhead.
Eryon dropped to his knees, his hands clawing at the ground as a guttural cry tore from his throat.
“No!” he bellowed, his voice raw with grief and frustration. He slammed his fists into the dirt, his shoulders heaving as the weight of what he’d lost crashed over him.
Lyra turned to him, her own tears mingling with the dirt and blood on her face. She reached out a trembling hand, placing it on his shoulder. Neither spoke, their shared grief too overwhelming for words.
Around them, the battlefield was silent, the remnants of both armies watching the scene unfold in somber stillness.
The Moon’s glow faded entirely, leaving only darkness and the weight of sacrifice.