And there she was, in all her ethereal beauty. With skin like pale moonlight, and eyes like perfectly cut jade, the seemingly ephemeral mirage of the Eternal Empress was sat in a chair with her legs crossed. Photonic butterflies of various colors flapped their wings and flew around her, and she sat in a pose with her index finger slightly bent, and one of those butterflies was landed on it.

When Ain was told that Iona, the Empress of Humanity was still alive, half of him didn't believe it. But there she was right before his eyes.

Relief and, for some reason, shame filled Ain as he fell to a knee. "Empress, I can't believe you are alive."

And yet, for some strange reason, she did not reply or even acknowledge Ain. Instead, she stared at the butterfly on her finger, her eyes glimmering with a diamond sparkle. It was at that time that Ain noticed a few things that were extremely strange.

The butterfly on the Empress's finger exuded a terrifying power -- just like Perdition. More than that, the Empress herself seemed different than how Ain remembered her. When he heard the song of her Source, it was overpowering -- unimaginably so.

The butterflies made of light were most certainly not ordinary creations -- Ain could not feel a Source within them at all. They were entirely Conceptualized magic. And yet there was no retribution from the Radix.

As Ain slowly rose to his feet, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Even though it happened right in front of him, his brain simply ignored it until it was too late. The Empress held a sword in her hands, and Ain's image was reflected on the pristine, silvery surface.

His instincts warned him of the impending danger, and he dashed to the side, but before he could leave the sword's reflection entirely, space was torn asunder and Ain's left forearm was separated from his body.

Ain crashed into the furniture, stumbled and fell, rolling on the ground, and then recovering to his feet, as he continued to run, jumping through the marble wall and into the hallway outside.

His heart was pounding. He was moments away from certain death, one that not even Idona could repair. That sword... just because his reflection was caught in it, he was almost destroyed.

As he ran through the hallways, he noticed a glimpse ahead of him, and saw one of those butterflies again. When he looked back, he saw the Empress -- or whatever that thing that looked like her was -- and he had no choice but to stop running and turn and face her.

In this narrow hallway, he couldn't avoid the sword. It was not a physical slash that chopped off his arm, but Ain wasn't sure what it was. If he had to guess, it wasn't space outside the sword that was cut -- but the space inside the sword. But how did that work? Was Ain also inside the sword?

This was the first time that Ain was stumped by Conceptualized magic. All sorts of things were possible with it, but generally, they did not become too strange, as those who created Conceptualized magic were still creatures with a reasonable mindset. This was different. To Ain, this felt profoundly alien.

The light reflecting off the Empress's sword cast strange spots of light on the walls, multi-colored and hexagon-shaped. But the sword did not yet catch his reflection.

As Ain stared at the sword, waiting for the moment his reflection was in it, the Empress suddenly stood right before him. In hindsight, he remembered her walking towards him, but in the moment, Ain could've sworn she did not make a single move. It was the same as back then when she drew her sword.

How could Ain fall for that twice?

Her sword pierced Ain's chest, straight through the heart, and then cleaved its way through his ribs, and his blood sprayed onto the wall. That sword wasn't aiming for his heart, but it was aiming for his Source. Had Ain not released his breath when he did, he would've been dead.

Well, he was still dead. One can't live without a heart. But that problem could be fixed. Having one's Source destroyed -- there was no coming back from that.

"Tir Idona," Ain murmured, taking a step back, and sliding off the Empress's sword. The blood on the wall turned to black ash and evaporated, as Ain's wounds healed.

"Sword of the V--" Ain began, reaching for his sword but then trailed off.

What was he doing? He kicked himself, mentally, but no matter what, he couldn't draw his sword. Not against her. He knew it was her, even though she was different. It was still her.

With his one remaining hand, he reached for her instead. "Why are you doing this, Iona?" he asked, even though he knew, in his heart, that the question would fall on deaf ears. And even though he asked the question, he knew the answer. It was because he used the Apotheosis Realm Method. Creation must've deemed him a threat, and sent someone to kill him. Ain did half-expect this -- certainly not this quickly -- but he did not expect that that someone would be her.

His fingers managed to reach hers, and with the lightest touch, he grasped her hand with his.

"I am no longer the one you reach for, mortal," she said with that familiar voice, as she stared at Ain's hand. "Will you not fight to defend yourself?"

Ain thought about the question, and then shook his head. "I will not."

"Even though you know that in this incarnation I am no longer Iona, but instead, the Avatar of Balance?" she asked, and her sword turned, exposing the flat of the blade towards Ain in which his reflection was captured.

Hearing the words Avatar of Balance, Ain understood what happened to the Empress. There were three fates, that were known of, that awaited those who practiced high Realm Methods. Abyssalization, Apotheosis or becoming an Avatar of a Principle. Balance was a Pillar of Creation, therefore, its power was absolute compared to Principles that did not have a Pillar.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

However, becoming an Avatar was a conscious choice, it did not happen accidentally.

"I am sorry, Iona," Ain whispered. "I am so sorry. I couldn't help you."

Ain's reflection in the sword flickered -- cracks appeared over his features -- and Ain felt a tug on his being, but, nothing happened.

"Ain, it is too late for that," she said, relaxing her grip on her sword. Her features softened; she was still the regal and awe-inspiring Empress, but there was a warmth to her that was not there before.

Ain's throat tightened. He licked his lips, but they still felt dry. How could this have happened? Did she choose to become an Avatar to escape from the Calamity Lord? That had to be the reason. She would rather become this, than his consort.

If only Ain had won the Edict...

"I am so sorry, Iona," Ain whispered again. There was nothing else he could say to her now.

The Empress remained silent. Dozens of seconds passed in this silence, with neither making a move. Ain's head was bowed, and his gaze was lowered. A part of him hoped that she would kill him. Perhaps he had become tired of life, or the thankless things he does for a race that only praises him when they need him. It was a syndrome of ignoring the hardships that come with the expected result, and always assuming a Hero is willing to do what needs to be done -- as if somehow that was the reason the Hero existed. Ain was also a person -- a real, living and thinking creature -- not a tool to be used and then forgotten.

Perhaps Ain became tired of life.

"If you want to make things right," she finally said. "Then fight me and kill me. There is no other way."

Hearing those words, it was like a fate worse than death. Ain looked up, into the Empress' eyes where he saw an eighteen point star of luminous cyan glow -- and beyond the Stigma of the Empress' Realm, he saw sadness and desperation.

"No..." Ain said. "I can't. Anything but that. Maybe with the Edict, we can..."

"Will you not fulfill my only wish, then?" she asked, and there was something matronly about her mannerisms -- chiding even.

"I..." Ain trailed off.

"Ain, I am no longer a creature of the Sun and Moon. Who else but I? -- now tramples the flowers and curses them: You who are not of this world made; disappear. Who else but I? -- now silences the song of the lark because its song is impure," she said. "I am not the one you once knew. Now I am something that beckons the weak and the lost to my mystical world, where the broken and the fallen dwell: in death without death. To live in my name is to live without life. To find me in this world is to find me in my name: Apatheia."

Hearing the Empress's new name, a shock ran through Ain. Reality dawned on him, like waking up from sleep by being dunked into a tub of icy cold water. She truly was no longer the same person.

Still, Ain hesitated.

"Yet, I am cursed because I alone must live without respite," she said, seeking Ain's gaze with hers. "I must live without death, and die without life. I am also one to be trampled and silenced, for I am neither of this world nor of pure things made. I am the point at which all things of Sun and Moon must unravel. I am a creature that gazes into the domain of Heaven and sees not the place of its own demise."

Ain swallowed, and goosebumps appeared on his arms. He felt his heart leaning in the direction of granting her wish, even though his mind resisted it with all it had.

"Why must that be so?" she asked. "Was I not like you once -- of human thought and human language? Am I still not of human form and human flesh? Do I also not have unreachable dreams and armed hopes? Was my crime to desire to give mercy to all who desired it, at the cost of my own self? Now I am cursed and clad in scorn. This is not what I desired to become."

"Stop..." Ain whispered, shaking his head.

"You can still help me," she said, tilting her head to the side slightly. "Now I wish the thread of my fable come undone. I want to die, and in death, to become the flowers in the garden I trampled. I was, and who I was, only the lark I silenced still remembers. Now the constellations of the end descend upon me, and I yearn to step into their eradicating light and become one with their stardust."

She took a step back, and sheathed her sword. Her stance widened and her hand hovered close to the hilt. Ain's heart crumbled to pieces, as he remembered the days when he taught the Empress that style of combat. The countless summers they spent together, neither one of them knowing the terrible war that was coming. Ain loved her more than the world itself. Everything he has ever done was for her.

"That is my only desire now," she said. "One final time, one last duel, with the one who now wields the Will of Humanity. That is all I wish."

With a heavy heart, Ain mimicked her stance. He rarely, if ever, used this style of combat, even though it was his specialty. He only had one Method for it -- and the most powerful in his arsenal.

His Circuits opened, and this time, his entire being connected to Excidium. Beyond the Cosmos of Annihilation, there was another source of power. It was the unified will of Humanity itself -- it was the resilience of a race that stood up to the calamities of the world and not only prevailed, but thrived. It was the collective might of a creature that looked at the end of the world, and then time and time again defeated it by creating another cataclysmic event. It was the power to live on forever, even in death. To be remembered and to remember those who fell in the name of the cause.

"Origin of Nothingness Method," Ain whispered.

"Sword of Reflections," she said, calmly.

"Ein Sof."

"Farewell."

Ain didn't register her words until he saw her make a slashing motion, but she never even grabbed her sword. By then, it was too late to stop, and Ain's sword arced through the air, trailed by glimmering stardust. The world lost its brightness, and both above and below, beyond the ceiling and floor were replaced by a starry, night sky. Each multi-colored star had fourteen points, and formed countless constellations shaped like swords.

When his sword passed in front of the Empress, she was devoured by a singularity, and transformed into glittering motes of stardust that became absorbed by the stars of the faux night sky.

Of the Empress, one final remnant was a glowing, golden core that hovered in mid-air. It was her Source.

Outside, thunder rumbled. Using an Apotheosis Method in Creation was certain death; perhaps Ain did that on purpose. But an exposed Source in Creation was also certain death. At least he was doubly sure he would die.

His sword fell to the floor with a loud ring, and he reached for the Empress's Source, grasping it with his fingers gently.

"I am sorry," he whispered. Yet no matter how gentle he was, cracks began to appear on the surface of the core, and brilliant light poured through them.

Ironically, it was because of that that he comprehended the Principle of Reflection; he stared into the cracks and within it saw what cannot be described in words. It was like living an entire lifetime -- a Practitioner's lifetime, not a mortal's -- and experiencing Reflection in its purest form.

To Ain, the Axiom he received in that moment was: The Nothingness reflects the Self.

Almost instinctively, Ain replied: "The Self reflects the Nothingness."

One could see the lightning bolt that struck the Calamity Faction Estate from literally anywhere in Creation. One could see it from an entirely different Realm.

In the Human Realm, Queen Lunaella was looking at the sky, feeling a strange melancholia that came without explanation, when she saw it, and her heart knew what happened.

In the Realm of the Fae, Lissandra was taking a walk in her garden which, for some unexplained reason, had wilted. When she saw the lightning bolt, she cursed under her breath.

In the Spirit Realm, Luminous Princess Astria saw the lightning bolt and, in her madness, could only cackle with glee and covet such power.

And in the Demon Realm, in a spire reaching towards the Heavens was a demon with a single, blazing red horn protruding from his forehead. The horn was made out of energies and not real. In fact, this person was not even a demon. He was Human. The Calamity Lord Exia. He saw the lightning bolt and yet his expression remained stoic. "Not yet, Ain," he said, pointing his finger towards the Calamity Faction Estate.

"Amnesty."