Kaedan didn’t walk.
He didn’t run.
He stormed, shadows peeling off of him like living smoke as he barreled through corridor after corridor. Guards leapt out of his way, terrified, but he didn’t see them.
He saw only the pulse.
The impossible gold that called to the bond he’d been cradling like a dying ember.
His feet slammed through the grand hall, stone cracking beneath every stride. His wings snapped open to full span, brushing the towering columns as he sprinted toward the throne room doors.
They blew open before he touched them.
And then—
He froze.
Outside the balcony, over the dead sea, the sky was changing.
The storm clouds that had clung to Vharon for centuries trembled… then split like torn cloth. For the first time since records existed, Kaedan saw a sliver of pure, unobstructed horizon.
A gasp swept through the throne room as more nobles and guards poured inside.
“What is that—?”
“It’s—impossible—”
“Gods…”
The people fell silent when the light grew stronger.
It wasn’t white.
Not gold.
Not yellow.
Something between them — ethereal, celestial, ancient.
A sunbeam.
A single, perfect ray of sunlight pierced the horizon and reached across the dead sea like a hand extended to the land of Night.
Kaedan’s knees nearly buckled.
“Sun…” he whispered, voice cracking. “After all this time…”
The beam expanded, spiraling downward as if searching for someone.
For her.
Crowds flooded into the balconies, then down into the courtyard, dropping to their knees as instinct overrode terror.
Some cried.
Some prayed.
Some just stared, stunned.
The sunlight twisted in the air, condensing, shaping itself into a swirling vortex of gold and shadow.
Kaedan’s heart slammed against his chest.
“No…” he breathed. “It can’t—”
The light grew too bright to see.
Then—
A shape formed.
A silhouette.
Human.
Fragile.
Falling.
“ARIA—!”
Kaedan launched himself forward, leaping from the balcony in a burst of shadow wings. He caught her just as her legs gave out, her weakened form folding into his arms like a dying star collapsing into a cradle of night.
Her skin was warm.
Her pulse faint.
Her glow dim but present.
She was alive.
Ariaxa.
His Ariaxa.
A sound ripped from his throat — not a sob, not a laugh, something raw and animal and utterly undone.
He held her tighter, burying his face in her hair, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, her trembling fingers.
“Ariaxa—Aria—gods—Ariaxa—”
His voice completely broke.
She stirred weakly in his arms.
Her eyes opened slowly — shimmering like dusk reflecting dawn. Her lips curved faintly, trembling with exhaustion.
“I—told you…” she whispered, breath fragile. “…I’d come back.”
His breath collapsed into a harsh, shaking sob.
He grabbed her face with both hands, kissing her again and again — her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, her jaw — as if trying to prove she was real, trying to anchor himself to the truth of her presence.
“You left,” he whispered into her hair. “You left me—you—”
“I had to,” she breathed, voice cracking. “For them. For us.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, tears streaking down his cheeks.
“I don’t care,” he choked. “You could have died. You almost—” His breath broke again. “I can’t—Ariaxa, I can’t survive another second without you.”
She touched his cheek with trembling fingers, her thumb brushing away a tear.
“You did survive,” she whispered. “And I came back for you.”
His chest caved in around that truth.
He crushed her against him, wings curling like a shield around them both as nobles and soldiers watched in stunned silence from the shattered balcony.
But as he held her, he felt it.
Something inside her chest—
wrong.
Her pulse stuttered.
Her glow flickered, like a candle sputtering in the wind.
“Ariaxa?” he whispered.
She tried to answer.
Instead—
She coughed.
A wet, awful sound.
A smear of black-gold blood splattered onto his cloak.
For a moment the world froze.
Kaedan’s heart stopped.
Her hand slipped down his chest, fingers trembling uncontrollably.
Another cough.
More blood.
Her skin dimmed.
Her wings—still half-light, half-shadow—flickered violently.
Kaedan grabbed her face again, panic slicing through him so fast he nearly dropped her.
“Ariaxa—what is that—what—”
Her eyes fluttered, dazed with pain.
“The void,” she whispered, voice thin as breaking glass. “It… followed me. Part of it is still inside me.”
Her breath hitched.
Her glow dimmed further.
“No,” Kaedan breathed, terror flooding every vein. “NO. No, no, no—NOT AGAIN—”
He pressed her closer, clutching her as if his arms alone could hold her soul inside her body.
“Stay with me,” he begged. “Don’t fade—don’t you dare fade—”
Ariaxa tried to smile.
Weak.
Broken.
Still hers.
“I told you…” she whispered hoarsely.
Another cough — more black-gold dripping down her chin.
“Saving the worlds… wasn’t without cost.”
Kaedan shook his head violently, rage and grief twisting his features.
“No. Don’t say that. Don’t. I just got you back—”
She winced, pressing a hand to her ribs where light flickered through cracking skin.
She forced a whisper:
“But I didn’t come back whole.”
Kaedan felt the truth sink into his bones.
Into the bond.
A poison.
A void.
A wound that hadn’t healed with her rebirth.
He pulled her tighter, wings curling around her trembling form.
His voice dropped to a desperate, broken whisper.
“I won’t lose you again. I won’t.”
Her breath stuttered.
Her body shivered.
She coughed again—
And this time, blood spilled across his palm.
Black.
Wrong.
Void-tainted.
Ariaxa’s eyes dimmed, clouding with pain she couldn’t hide.
Kaedan’s heart cracked open.
“No—Ariaxa—NO—”
But she was already slipping.
Her head fell against his shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered.
And her wings flickered like the last sparks of a dying star—
as Ariaxa coughed up blood — void energy still poisoning her veins.