The god’s presence bore into my mind, his power tearing through memories as if he were plucking leaves from a branch. Desperately, I shut my eyes and tried to focus on blocking him out, but it was like trying to hold back a storm with a single thread. A feeble attempt to step away, seeking cover behind the machine, ended in a collapse as my legs betrayed me almost immediately, buckling under the relentless assault.

The pain receded as suddenly as it had come, leaving me sprawled on the cold floor, clutching my head as the world around me pulsed in excruciating brightness. Every nerve felt raw, every sense too sharp, amplifying the disorientation clawing through me. I could see the god yelling, his mouth moving with intensity, but an unbearable ringing in my ears rendered his words nothing more than silent threats. Desperation settled in as I struggled to regain control over my scattered mind. I began breathing in and out slowly, determined to recall the often overlooked meditation techniques I’d once brushed off as trivial.

Gradually, the exercises worked. Each deep breath seemed to pull me back, grounding my thoughts and dulling the overwhelming light halo that had encased me moments before. The ringing in my ears softened, the pain faded, and, with some effort, I managed to pull myself upright.

Across the room, I could make out Tiberius standing near the God, apparently engaged in a conversation. My hearing must have been still playing tricks on me because the first thing I could decipher was him telling the God he liked the color blue.

I shook my head, willing myself to pull it together, and caught the God glancing in my direction for just a heartbeat. That small glance was enough to freeze me, panic flooding in anticipation of the pain’s return. Yet, it never came.

The ferocity of their battle jarred me out of my thoughts. The speed—the sheer relentless speed at which they fought—was like nothing I’d seen from Tiberius. I knew he’d used his time magic before, but never with this intensity, nor for so long. For the first time since this nightmare began, a flicker of hope rose in me. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t over yet.

I turned, scanning for the goddess. She had to help him; he only needed a second, just a brief distraction, to reach the crystal. Yet when I finally found her, I almost didn’t recognize her—her form had faded to near transparency.

"You have to help Tiberius," I pleaded, moving closer.

She didn’t even look at me, her eyes instead fixed on the brutal clash unfolding in front of us. "There is nothing I can do. My plan has failed," she replied, voice as empty as her gaze, as if she were already a shadow waiting for the end.

Desperate, I reached out, trying to grip her shoulders, shake her out of this eerie acceptance, but my hands passed through her like mist. "He just needs a short distraction! Look—the crystal is almost black," I urged.

Her voice stayed maddeningly calm, as if her own detachment was the only thing anchoring her. "I am nothing but a ghost now; I couldn’t even lift a grain of dust."

"Look at me!" I nearly shouted, willing her to see the urgency, the slim chance we had if only she would act.

Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, her head turned to me. Her eyes looked through me, distant, lost in thoughts miles away.

"Think!" I begged, my voice shaking. "Anything! It doesn’t matter how impossible or dangerous—just something."

She stared, her gaze still far away, but then, gradually, it was as though she forced her eyes to focus on me. "There is nothing..." she began, her voice faltering. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and it was like something shifted in her.

A sharp scream made me spin around. The god was stumbling back, and for a heartbeat, relief and hope surged through me. But in the next breath, my hope was crushed. Tiberius was pinned to the ground, his face contorted in pain, as a jagged spear of energy anchored him helplessly in place, the god standing triumphant above him.

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“Put your hand on the crystal,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of pain and panic, pulling me back into the moment.

“What? What would that accomplish? You said—” My protests were useless, swallowed by the urgency in her tone.

“He will be dead in moments if you don’t act,” she pressed, a rare edge of desperation in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.

Without a second thought, I closed the short distance and wrapped my hand around the crystal. At first, nothing happened. Was I too late? Was the crystal not yet ready? But before I could question further, I heard her soft murmur behind me, barely audible, “I hope you can forgive me… and another death…”

I heard her say the last part, almost in a whisper, and I wanted to turn, to see her face, to understand. Suddenly, pain ripped through me as energy surged from the crystal into my body, and I couldn’t hold back a scream. It was so intense I had to fight every reflex urging me to pull my hand away. The sensation was sharp, electric, almost too much to endure, but I couldn’t help a faint, defiant smile as I remembered the time I’d convinced Tiberius to shock me with his spell. He’d refused for so long, thought it reckless, but I’d insisted. I thought it was brilliant preparation for trolls and their shamans. Foolish as that memory was, it somehow anchored me now.

The current forced my grip to tighten around the crystal, and I felt a strange pull, as if the crystal was drawing from me. The goddess’s words echoed in my mind—another death. She’d always known this would be the end for someone, hadn’t she? For a moment, doubt trickled in. Why would this even work? Didn't she pluck him from his world for this very specific purpose?

But then, the pain swelled and radiated through my chest, driving out every thought. My torso felt as if it was being torn apart, the strain overwhelming. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I managed to look at Tiberius one last time. He lay still, impaled by three spears, his face turned away, lifeless. The god stood over him, savoring his triumph.

Strange, isn’t it? I thought. All those novels I’d read as a teenager, where lovers died side by side, hand in hand, for something greater. I’d thought it was beautiful. Romantic.

Now, in the thick of it, with the energy clawing its way through me, that adolescent notion seemed laughably naive—and yet, achingly true.

A brilliant, blinding light snapped me out of my haze of pain and fear. Turning, I saw the machine itself glowing with an intensity that seemed otherworldly, as though it was alive. For a moment, awe mixed with terror held me frozen in place.

Then, a pulse of pure light erupted from the machine and washed over me like a tidal wave. It didn’t burn, but I felt its strange force down to my bones, a deep hum that seemed to quiet every nerve. I waited, tense, for something in me to feel different—my skin, my mind, anything—but nothing happened. Yet the air had shifted, and I heard a strange sound coming from where the god had once stood. When I looked back, his form was unraveling, dissipating like smoke caught in a strong wind. His face twisted in an agonized expression that sent a chill through me, though all it produced was a distant, muted howl. I felt almost… sorry for him, watching him fade into helplessness.

Another pulse surged from the machine, this time dimmer, and then it fell dark, the light in it extinguishing. The crystal in my hand cooled instantly, releasing me from its tight grip. I staggered back, confusion and disbelief warring in my mind.

My focus snapped back. Tiberius. He’d sacrificed himself for this moment, and maybe—just maybe. I started moving towards him.

“Take the shard,” the goddess’s voice whispered in my ear, stopping me, though she was nowhere to be seen. She sounded far away, like she was fading along with the light.

Reaching his side he was still, too still, but a faint pulse beat beneath his skin. The final spear had missed his heart, but blood was seeping from his wounds as the spears had faded with their master. I felt panic clawing at me, the urgency pressing down like a weight in my chest. This had to be enough. It had to.

"Think about home," the voice whispered again.

I gripped the crystal shard and clenched my jaw, a sudden, strange sense of clarity flooding me. With shaking hands, I held the shard close, trying to focus on the one place I knew Tiberius could have a chance: my family villa, where at least a healer would be nearby.

The shard shattered in my hand, and instantly a portal appeared beside us. There was no time to hesitate. Tiberius was growing colder, and every second counted. Summoning the last of my strength, I took him in my arms and ran into the portal, and stumbled through, desperately hoping this was enough.

We tumbled out onto the soft grass of the villa gardens. My legs buckled, and I stumbled, dropping Tiberius, my voice hoarse as I cried out, “Help!”

“Alira?” a familiar voice called. I looked up to see Mast, the villa’s staff leader, rushing over with a look of pure alarm on his face.

“Mast,” I gasped, still breathless. “He’s gravely injured. He won’t survive another minute without help.” I pointed to Tiberius, lying on the ground, his chest rising in shallow breaths.

Mast wasted no time, his hands glowing faintly as he knelt and muttered the beginning of a basic healing spell, at least enough to buy Tiberius a few more precious minutes. Relief flooded me as other staff hurried over, and my knees buckled. I watched with quiet gratitude, finally allowing myself a small respite.

'Just a moment to rest my eyes'