The clash intensified within the chamber. Despite their combined strength, Kamari and Byron were too weakened and fatigued to match Zaire’s relentless power, and his shadows gradually overwhelmed them, forcing them to their knees.
Meanwhile, Zion rose into the air, his body suspended before the portal, silhouetted against the swirling void. For a moment, he appeared to have control of the Nether Flame, but then his face twisted in agony as a scream tore from his throat.
Dark flames engulfed him instantly, his skin blistering and splitting apart. Bones snapped and twisted at unnatural angles, his spine arching as the flames burned hotter, blackening his body to an obsidian sheen. His eyes glowed with a sickly violet light—the unmistakable mark of the Nether Flame’s corrupting power. Behind him, a rotating Celestial Halo of twisted darkness took shape, pulsating with raw Nether Energy.
"Father?" Zaire muttered.
Zion’s head snapped toward them. A near-feral snarl ripped from his throat as he unleashed a roaring blast of pure Nether Energy. The chamber quaked under its force.
Kamari gritted his teeth and braced himself. Zaire moved instinctively, stepping in front of him and summoning a dense shield of shadows. The collision was catastrophic, and the ensuing shockwave slammed into the walls and sent Kamari and Byron staggering back under its force.
“Father!” Zaire shouted. He strained against the unrelenting blast. “Fight it! Don’t let it consume you!”
Zion’s gaze was hollow, devoid of recognition—the Nether Flame had consumed him completely. Slowly, his attention shifted to the portal, where its pulsing energy twisted and writhed. Massive shadowy hands clawed their way from the depths, their jagged fingers scraping the stone frame with a sickening grind, widening the tear.
The air turned frigid. Then, with a thunderous roar, the enormous head of the Dark God, Kaldor, emerged. His blazing eyes seethed with malice, and a grotesque smile carved itself across his monstrous face.
Zaire’s heart clenched as he watched Kaldor slowly forcing his way into the Realm while his father remained lost in the Flame's influence. Panic cracked his voice as he shouted, “Father, remember who you are! Please! Fight it!”
Zion’s body stilled, his movements slowing as if caught in an invisible struggle. His flickering eyes met Zaire’s, and for a fleeting moment, clarity broke through the Flame's insidious influence. A strained, fractured voice slipped from his lips. “Zaire…”
Zaire stepped forward cautiously, his hands trembling. “Don’t let it end like this, Father.”
A violent tremor ran through Zion as he visibly fought to regain control. His gaze shifted to the portal where Kaldor’s massive form pressed against the threshold. The sight seemed to jolt something loose in Zion. His glowing, purple eyes dimmed.
Then, he looked down. His hands, blackened and twisted, pulsed with Nether Energy. His breath hitched as he caught his reflection in a shard of jagged glass nearby. What stared back was a grotesque, corrupted visage—barely human.
“No…” he whispered, the word trembling on his lips. His hands shook as the reality of his transformation sank in. “No!”
The Nether Flame’s whispers returned, venomous and insistent. Promises and commands flooded his mind, urging him to surrender fully to the darkness. Zion clutched his head, his body convulsing as he fought the relentless pull. Agony erupted in waves, and bursts of pure Nether Energy tore free from him, burning through the walls and floors of the chamber. His screams filled the space.
Kamari, still bound in shadows, flinched as bolts of dark energy ricocheted wildly, scorching the stone around him. He strained against his bindings, helpless as the ground cracked beneath him and the air grew thick with unbearable heat.
Meanwhile, Kaldor pressed harder against the portal’s barrier, his towering form straining with every effort. His twisted features contorted in fury as the threshold resisted his entry as if some unseen force held him back.
Amid the chaos, Zion’s screams reached a crescendo. With a final, shattering cry, he tore himself away from the Nether Flame’s grip. His breaths came in heaving gasps as he hovered, his dark flames still raging but now controlled, bending to his will. He straightened, clenching his fists, and turned to face the Dark God.
“Kaldor!” Zion’s voice thundered through the chamber.
Kaldor’s burning eyes locked onto him. For a moment, silence hung heavy between them.
Zion raised his hand, gathering the seething power of the Nether. “Your reign ends now.”
He unleashed a torrent of dark energy, the blast crashing into Kaldor with a deafening roar. The ground quivered under its force. Kaldor staggered, his massive form straining against the attack, but he refused to be pushed back.
Zion gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of strength into the assault. His body trembled under the effort, sweat streaking his face, but he refused to relent. The chamber quaked as the portal began to destabilize.
He glanced back, his eyes finding Zaire. In that instant, his expression softened, his voice breaking with raw emotion. “I’m sorry, son… for everything.”
With one final surge of power, Zion poured the last of his energy into the blast. The attack swelled, consuming Kaldor and forcing him back into the portal’s depths. The vortex roared as Zion hovered forward, allowing the portal’s swirling energy to envelop him.
“Father!” Zaire’s voice cracked with desperation.
Zion didn’t look back. His silhouette vanished into the void, following Kaldor into Vordiyr.
Zaire approached the Dakr with slow, hesitant steps. When he reached it, he stopped, his fingers hovering above the Phoenix Core embedded at its base. He stared at the Core, then shifted his gaze to the portal. A heavy breath escaped him as he finally pulled the Core free.
The chamber reacted instantly. The portal’s energy dimmed, its edges folding inward until the dark light vanished, leaving only silence.
Byron and Kamari tensed as the shadows binding them began to dissolve. Freed, they stepped forward cautiously, their fists igniting with flames as their eyes locked on Zaire.
Zaire turned to face them, the Phoenix Core resting in his open palm. Its soft, multicolored glow cast gentle hues across his face, illuminating the sharp lines of exhaustion and grief etched into his expression. He stared at the Core as though transfixed by its warmth, lost in the delicate pulse of its energy.
Kamari and Byron were expecting a fight, but there was none. There was no aggression. No defiance. Instead, Zaire extended his arm, offering the Core to them. His eyes met Kamari’s, hollow and resigned.
Kamari’s heart raced. Suspicion clashed with confusion. He stepped forward cautiously, his hand hovering inches from the Core. His voice was low and tense. “Why now? After everything you’ve done, why give it back?”
Zaire’s gaze didn’t waver, though his voice carried a hint of grief. “Because my father’s work is done. And so is mine.”
Kamari clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s it?” His words came sharp and bitter. “You destroyed villages. Killed innocent people. Shattered lives. Do you think this makes up for it?”
A flicker of sorrow crossed Zaire’s face, subtle yet unmistakable. His shoulders sagged as he spoke. “No… this doesn’t make up for anything. This isn’t an act of redemption. That chance is long gone.”
For a moment, silence hung between them. The Core’s gentle glow pulsed like a heartbeat, its warmth bridging the space between enemy and enemy. Kamari’s hand trembled as he reached out, his every movement measured, his gaze fixed on Zaire as though searching for a trap hidden beneath the quiet.
“Take it,” Zaire murmured.
Kamari’s fingers finally curled around the Core, and a soothing warmth flowed into his hand. He stepped back, pressing the Core to his chest. Its light flared brilliantly, cascading over him in dazzling waves. Flames of every color—crimson, sapphire, gold—burst forth, encircling his body in a vivid, radiant dance. The chamber filled with light, the once-darkened space now ablaze with color and life.
As the flames dimmed, Kamari’s body remained wrapped in a faint, shimmering aura. His breathing steadied as his gaze locked on Zaire, his suspicion tempered by a faint unease.
Zaire stood still, watching in silence. His expression softened, and sorrow lingered in his eyes. The faintest trace of a smile touched his lips before he turned away. His steps were slow and heavy as he approached the shattered remains of the portal gate. His fingers brushed over the jagged stone as though they were searching for something lost in the ruins.
Kamari watched him. The once-imposing demon now seemed impossibly small, weighed down by a grief he recognized all too well. A pang of sympathy stirred within him.
Another son had lost his father.
The ache of that realization hit harder than Kamari expected. He saw it in the way Zaire’s body sagged. It was the same pain he had carried—the same hollow ache he had fought to bury every day. The same helplessness. The same anguish.
His fists clenched at his sides as memories threatened to surface, but he pushed them back. This wasn’t the time. He turned to Byron, gave a firm, knowing nod, and together, they rushed out of the chamber.
----------------------------------------
Byron and Kamari sprinted from the ruins of the collapsed lair, their footsteps hammering against the cracked, lifeless earth outside. Kamari’s heart thundered as his eyes locked on Malik’s still form. Every second stretched unbearably long, each heartbeat a painful reminder of what was at stake.
He dropped to his knees beside Malik, his breath catching as his gaze swept over the torn flesh and faintly trickling blood. Swallowing hard, he muttered, “I want to try something.”
Nia’s eyes widened, her hands trembling as they lingered over Malik’s chest, still glowing faintly with the Enre she poured into him. Worry etched deep lines across her face. She hesitated, but her gaze found Byron. He gave her a slow, deliberate nod.
Reluctantly, Nia pulled her hands back, letting the faint glow fade.
Kamari drew in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay calm. His hands hovered over Malik’s chest as the memory of the forest rushed back—the moment he’d healed Leon without knowing how. It had been instinct, the Phoenix Core guiding him. He closed his eyes and reached for that same connection.
Please, just one more time.
He looked down at Malik again, his trembling hands settling on the wound. The sight of his closest friend—the brother he’d never had—lying so still, so fragile, twisted deep in his chest like a knife. The thought of losing Malik clawed at him, the fear choking out every other thought.
This has to work.
He exhaled slowly, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it synced with the warmth radiating from the Core. Calm clarity. Focus. The mantra pulsed in his mind as he willed the energy into his hands.
A flicker of blue flame ignited beneath his palms, soft and gentle, its glow casting a faint light over Malik’s battered form. Kamari felt the warmth surge outward, seeping into Malik’s body. His breath hitched as a faint, fragile rhythm greeted his fingertips—Malik’s heartbeat. It was weak but steady.
The flames grew brighter, wrapping Malik in their protective glow. Kamari’s mind raced with a storm of hope and desperation.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Will this be enough?
The Core’s energy flowed through him, powerful but taxing. His limbs trembled as he poured everything he had into the flames.
Each second dragged painfully as Malik’s torn flesh slowly knitted itself together, the wound closing under the soothing light. Kamari’s chest ached with strain, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
Nia and Byron watched in silence, their faces a mix of awe and hope. When the blue flames finally faded, Kamari’s shoulders sagged. Malik’s wound was healed, though he remained unconscious.
Relief washed over Kamari like a tide. His lips parted in a breath of quiet triumph.
But the moment shattered in an instant.
A sharp crackling sound echoed across the sky. Kamari’s head jerked up, his pulse spiking. In the distance, the Void Rift loomed ominously, its jagged white fractures twisting across the heavens. The air warped and shimmered as reality itself seemed to bend and break.
Beside him, Nia’s breath caught. Her face drained of color, and her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Jermaine…”
Her words hung heavy in the air, the fragile thread of hope unraveling into dread.
----------------------------------------
The ground shuddered violently as Jermaine fought against the Void Rift. Its jagged white tendrils clawed at his limbs, gnawed into his flesh, and coiled tighter around him with every passing second. His muscles strained, his teeth clenched, and yet the Rift pressed on, devouring him piece by piece.
Just as it seemed the Rift would claim him, a blinding beam of concentrated energy slammed into him with immense force. Jermaine gasped as the surge tore through his body, electrifying him from the inside out. He staggered in midair, his entire being trembling as he struggled to contain the raw power flooding his veins.
The transformation was unmistakable.
A soft, light blue Celestial Halo materialized behind him. It pulsed with Source Energy, crackling in time with his heartbeat and casting an ethereal glow across the broken landscape. Jermaine stared at himself in disbelief as cracks of brilliant light began to spread across his skin, like veins of lightning illuminating his flesh. His body radiated a divine silver glow, each energy pulse brighter than the last.
For a moment, he was stunned. He was no longer just Jermaine—he was a force of nature, a transcendent being rivaling the power of the Great Celestials.
His gaze shifted downward to the mysterious figures below, their mechanized suits glinting in the halo’s light. Their faces remained hidden behind darkened visors, but their actions spoke volumes. They had given him the boost he needed to achieve the power of the Aylvin Seal. He didn’t speak. Instead, with a nod, he turned back to the Rift.
His roar tore through the heavens as he unleashed an earth-shattering wave of energy. The blast surged outward in a devastating cascade, tearing through the Rift’s jagged tendrils and splitting the void wide open. The sheer force of the assault fractured the very air, sending tremors rippling across the ground. The Rift recoiled, its monstrous form trembling under the onslaught.
And then, everything went white.
The wasteland dissolved in an instant—the storming winds, the Void Rift, the battle—all of it consumed by an endless expanse of light. White mist stretched in every direction, serene and silent. Jermaine found himself standing in this tranquil nothingness, his feet anchored on something solid though no ground could be seen.
A strange peace washed over him, but it was fleeting.
His eyes fell on her.
Nia stood a few steps away, her wide eyes scanning the surreal surroundings. There was something familiar about this place, though she couldn’t place why. Her gaze shifted to Jermaine, and panic flickered across her face as she took in his battered state—the cracks spidering across his glowing skin, the blood streaking his face, the exhaustion in his every breath.
“Jermaine!” she whispered, rushing to him as he stumbled.
She caught him just as his strength gave out, her arms wrapping tightly around him, holding him up. His weight was heavy, his body radiating searing heat, but she didn’t let go. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she felt the faint rise and fall of his chest, each breath more labored than the last. The glowing cracks on his skin pulsed faintly, fading with each heartbeat.
“Jermaine…” Her voice broke as the realization hit her.
He managed a weak, cocky smile through his pain, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did it.”
A rough cough racked his body, and blood dotted his lips. They sank to their knees together, and Nia’s trembling hands brushed his cheek. Tears spilled freely down her face. She didn’t need to ask; she could feel it—his life slipping away.
“Jermaine, no.” Her voice cracked. “You can't... Elijah still needs you. I still need you.” Her words spilled out in a frantic plea. “You promised us, Jermaine. You promised you’d never leave. Don’t break that promise now. Please…”
Jermaine’s gaze softened, his faint smile returning. He reached up, his trembling hand brushing away a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You know I hate seeing you cry.”
Her sobs shook her shoulders, but she held onto him as though she could anchor him to her, keep him from slipping away. “You’re strong,” she pleaded. “You’re my Jermaine. You can fight this. You have to fight this.”
He leaned his forehead gently against hers, his breaths shallow and strained. “I wish I could,” he murmured. “I really do. But you’ll be okay. You and Elijah... you’ll be fine without me.”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “We won’t.”
He smiled weakly. “Yes, you will. You’re not that scared girl I met all those years ago. You’re strong. And Elijah? He’s going to grow into someone amazing. More powerful than I ever was.”
The glowing cracks along his body began to spread faster now, his form shimmering with light as particles of energy broke away from him, drifting into the mist. Nia’s heart shattered as she watched him fade. She clung tighter to him as though holding him closer could stop the inevitable.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he said softly. “I’ll always be with you. My spirit... it’ll live on. I won't truly be gone.”
His trembling hand cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him. Their eyes met, hers brimming with tears, his glowing faintly with love.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Jermaine’s grin returned. “Always.”
Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, his warmth blending with hers one final time. As the light consumed him, she held onto him, refusing to let go. But then, he was gone. In her arms remained only the faint echo of his presence before his energy dissolved into the white void, leaving her alone in the stillness.
----------------------------------------
The white void gradually dissolved, and the world began to reemerge. The desolate landscape left in the Void Rift’s wake was eerily still, its chaos replaced by an almost unnatural calm. Faint crackles of lingering Knull Energy flickered sporadically, flashing for brief moments before dissipating entirely. The scorched, ashen ground brightened, its dull grays giving way to patches of soft, untouched earth. Overhead, the storm-torn sky began to clear as the heavy gray clouds peeled away, revealing an endless expanse of blue—a sky untouched. It was as if the corruption that had ravaged the land moments ago had never been.
Amid the quiet aftermath, the two figures in advanced mechanized suits stood motionless, their hands withdrawing from the four glowing slots of the strange device before them. The machine's hum faded to a low murmur, its purpose fulfilled, leaving only silence. One of the individuals tapped a screen embedded on their wrist, and bright, blinking text materialized:
Knull Threat Neutralized.
They exchanged a glance, no words passing between them. Still, the weight of shared relief hung heavy in the air. Their rigid postures softened; one gave a faint nod, silently acknowledging their success.
Together, they tilted their heads upward, gazing at the vast, open sky. Freed from the suffocating presence of the Rift, it stretched endlessly above them, unblemished and pure.
----------------------------------------
Back in the clearing outside the lair, Nia trembled as her mind returned from the white void. Her eyes, rimmed red and brimming with unshed tears, stared blankly over the wasteland. The Void Rift was gone, its threat erased, but its absence felt hollow—more like a gaping wound than a hard-won victory. Each ragged breath clawed its way out of her chest. She wanted to scream, to hurl every ounce of her anguish and fury at the uncaring sky above, to let it all out—but she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
She was a warrior. She had always known the risks. And Jermaine had known them, too.
Byron saw it first, the truth etched across her face. His eyes softened as they met hers, and in that single, heart-wrenching glance, he understood: Jermaine was gone. A heavy silence fell between them as he turned to the horizon, his gaze searching desperately for a trace of Jermaine’s Enre Signature—a pulse, a flicker, any sign that some part of him still remained. But there was nothing.
Byron swallowed hard, grief pressing against his chest like a vice. He forced it down and looked back to Nia. She sat trembling, her body rigid as though sheer will alone held her together. Her tears teetered on the edge, refusing to fall, though the weight of her pain threatened to crush her entirely.
Without words, Byron extended his hand and guided her head gently onto his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it undid her completely. The walls she’d kept standing by the barest thread crumbled beneath the silent permission to let go.
For a moment, she resisted, clinging to the warrior’s instinct to hold it all inside. But then Byron’s arm tightened around her, his silent strength anchoring her, and the first sob tore free from her throat. It was raw and guttural, breaking the stillness of the clearing as she collapsed against him.
Her hands clutched desperately at his shirt as her tears fell. She buried her face in his shoulder, the dam finally giving way to the torrent of grief she could no longer contain.
Kamari watched quietly, still cradling Malik’s unconscious body. He didn’t need to ask what had happened. The loss echoed through Nia’s cries, filling the air with a sorrow that felt palpable. Without a word, he moved closer and rested his forehead lightly against her back—a silent gesture of support, offering what little comfort he could.
Nia’s sobs deepened, each one heavier than the last. Every cry carried the unbearable truth that Jermaine—her lover, her best friend, her world—was gone. Not somewhere she could follow. Not waiting for her return. Gone.
Back in the shattered remains of the lair, Zaire knelt among the rubble of the portal gate, his fingers brushing over the cold, jagged fragments of stone. The faint sound of Nia’s cries reached him, cutting through the oppressive silence. It stirred something raw and aching deep within him.
His vision blurred as he pressed a trembling hand over his face. A single tear slipped free, carving a quiet path down his cheek. Then another. He didn’t stop them, didn’t fight the grief as it surfaced. This was his quiet surrender—a final acknowledgment of what he had lost.
His father was never coming back.
----------------------------------------
There was no time to grieve.
An urgent, rhythmic beep blared from the screen on Byron’s suit. Knull Energy levels were spiking. The forcefield around the lair had been compromised, and the toxic energy was leaking through the cracks, thickening the air like an invisible miasma. Byron’s gaze swept over his team, and his stomach dropped when he saw Malik’s suit—its material damaged in Zaire’s attack—leaving him dangerously exposed.
“Damn it,” Byron muttered under his breath. Panic rippled through the group as they scrambled for options, each one more futile than the last.
The beeping intensified.
“What do we do?” Kamari asked.
Before anyone could answer, Zaire stepped forward, his dark wings unfurling behind him. Kamari and Byron spun to face him, instantly on edge. Their muscles tensed, their stances ready for battle.
But Zaire raised his hands in a gesture of peace. His voice, calm and steady, cut through the chaos. “I am no longer your enemy. Let me help you.”
Kamari and Byron exchanged wary glances. The beeping grew louder while the air felt heavier with each passing second.
Byron’s jaw tightened. They had no choice. He gave a sharp nod.
Zaire stepped closer, shadows spilling from his body like a dark tide, flowing across the ground and wrapping around them. His expression was uncharacteristically soft—reassuring. “Hold your breath,” he said.
The shadows crept upward, cold and suffocating as they enveloped the group, pulling them into an impenetrable darkness. Kamari’s chest tightened, his instincts screaming to fight, to push back—but before he could react, the blackness dissipated.
They emerged into the sunlight.
The sudden warmth and light were almost blinding after the lair’s suffocating gloom. They stood at the gates of Ceiala, where the fractured city stretched before them, its charred ruins casting long shadows over streets littered with debris.
Nia wasted no time. Her telekinesis wrapped around Malik’s limp body, lifting him carefully. Without a word, she launched into the air, weaving through the broken city toward the nearest infirmary. Kamari and Byron stayed behind, their eyes fixed on Zaire.
Zaire stood still, his gaze sweeping over the devastation. The crumbled buildings, the blackened streets, the bodies of the fallen scattered like discarded memories—it was all laid bare before him. He drew in a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as his eyes clouded with something close to regret. Slowly, he sank to his knees, his head bowing as though the weight of his actions had finally broken him.
“I don’t regret what I did,” he murmured, his voice heavy, “but it saddens me… that it had to be this way.” He paused, closing his eyes as silence settled over them like a shroud. “Now that my mission is complete, I have nothing left to fight for.” His voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “I surrender. I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide.”
Byron studied him for a long moment. Finally, he stepped forward, a Suppressor Collar materializing in his hand. He crouched beside Zaire, the faint hum of the device cutting through the quiet.
Before he could activate it, Zaire raised a hand. “Wait,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Let me speak to the Young Phoenix.”
Byron hesitated, his gaze flicking to Kamari. After a moment, Kamari gave a slight nod, and Byron stepped back, though his wariness remained.
Zaire’s dark eyes found Kamari’s. “I know what I’ve done to you,” he began quietly. “And I know what I’ve taken. I don’t seek your forgiveness—I don’t deserve it.” His gaze drifted to the ruins around them, his voice faltering. “Perhaps there were other paths, other ways to fulfill my father’s dream. But this…” He gestured at the devastation, his hand trembling. “This was the path Fate dealt me.”
Kamari remained silent, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on Zaire.
Zaire sighed, his voice softening. “So, no, I won’t apologize. But I will tell you this: you have heart, Young Phoenix. A fire within you that never falters, no matter what stands in your way.” He held Kamari’s gaze, his tone earnest. “Don’t let that flame die. It’s rare. It will carry you farther than you can imagine.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Zaire closed his eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Byron stepped forward and clasped the collar around Zaire’s neck. With a soft hum, it activated, and Zaire slumped forward, unconscious, his wings folding lifelessly around him.
In the distance, the sound of boots on rubble grew louder. Kamari and Byron turned as a small squad of Seraphim warriors emerged from the haze, their pristine white and gold armor gleaming faintly under the fractured sunlight. They approached quickly, saluting in unison with a fist to their chests.
Byron returned the gesture with a solemn nod.
Two warriors knelt beside Zaire’s motionless form. Their hands hesitated, hovering as though unsure how to handle the infamous Angel of Death. Even through their helmets, their disbelief was palpable. Slowly, they secured his arms with Dragonium cuffs, lifting his limp body with care. As they carried him away, his legs dragged across the cracked street, leaving faint trails of dust behind.
Kamari’s gaze followed them, lingering until Zaire disappeared into the haze of the ruined city.
Byron stepped closer, resting a firm hand on Kamari’s shoulder. “You did good, kid,” he said.
Kamari turned, meeting Byron’s gaze. He swallowed hard and gave a quiet nod.
For a moment, they stood in silence, two figures amidst the wreckage. The distant rumble of the city surrounded them, but between them, only their heavy breaths broke the stillness. Finally, without a word, they turned and began heading toward the infirmary.