Un espace infini s'étendait devant elles, une mer d'étoiles figées, entrelacées par des fils lumineux. Des fils qui semblaient aussi vieux que le temps lui-même. Ces fils n’étaient pas simplement des lignes de lumière, mais les racines d’un immense arbre cosmique, l’Arbre Sacré.

L'ombre de cet arbre invisible se projetait à travers chaque monde. Chaque racine représentait une possibilité, une réalité née des décisions non prises, des choix non faits. Les Mondes des Possibilités. Eirina, silencieuse, observait cet enchevêtrement avec fascination, tandis que Morigan, un pas en avant, cherchait déjà une faille, un point de rupture dans cette toile infinie.

— "Tout ceci... ne sont que des reflets," murmura Eirina.

Morigan hocha lentement la tête, concentrée. Ses doigts effleurèrent l’un des fils. Un éclat de lumière se diffusa, puis une image fugace d’un autre monde, une autre réalité, apparut avant de disparaître aussi rapidement.

— "Ce sont les racines de l'Arbre Sacré," dit Morigan, sa voix basse mais assurée. "Chacune représente un monde potentiel, une réalité née des décisions, des rêves, et des peurs de tous les êtres vivants. Nous ne sommes qu’une possibilité parmi tant d'autres."

Eirina resta silencieuse, absorbée par cette pensée vertigineuse. Elle se demandait combien de réalités s’étaient effondrées, combien avaient prospéré.

— "Mais nous ne pouvons pas nous attarder ici."

Morigan, toujours pragmatique, fit un geste et ouvrit un rift dans l’espace. Un portail d'énergie pure s’ouvrit devant elles, brillant d'une lumière crue et oppressante. Eirina plissa les yeux face à cette lumière agressive.

Elles franchirent ensemble le portail, et soudain, tout changea.

La 11e dimension supérieure.

le temps et l’espace étaient distordus, où les lois de la physique humaine semblaient insignifiantes. Devant elles, un vaste fleuve s'étendait, mais ce n’était pas de l'eau qu'il contenait. Des fragments de mondes brisés, des éclats de lumière et d’ombre, flottaient à la surface, animés par un courant invisible.

— "C'est... un fleuve," murmura Eirina, incertaine.

— "Pas un fleuve ordinaire," répondit Morigan. "C’est le fleuve de la perception. Le traverser, c’est affronter nos propres illusions, celles que l’on crée pour se protéger de la vérité."

Un rire résonna soudain, sombre et malicieux.

— "Ah, vous voilà enfin !"

Un homme apparut devant elles, flottant légèrement au-dessus du sol, ses pieds ne touchant jamais vraiment la terre. Son visage était caché par un large capuchon, mais ses yeux, brillants d'une lueur verte étrange, étaient perçants.

— "Je suis Archeron, le passeur," dit-il avec un sourire tordu. "Et pour traverser ce fleuve, il faudra... payer le prix."

Morigan croisa les bras, méfiante. Elle connaissait la nature trompeuse des passeurs, toujours prêts à duper les âmes désespérées.

— "Quel prix ?" demanda-t-elle, la voix froide.

— "Oh, rien de bien compliqué," répondit Archeron avec un éclat malicieux dans les yeux. "Je vous donnerai le passage... en échange de votre compagnon." Il fit un signe vers Eirina.

Eirina sentit son cœur s'arrêter un instant, surprise par l’audace d’Archeron. Mais avant qu'elle ne puisse réagir, Morigan éclata de rire.

— "Vraiment ?" dit-elle, un sourire moqueur sur les lèvres. "Tu penses pouvoir me tromper aussi facilement ?"

Archeron haussa un sourcil, feignant l'innocence.

— "Tromper ? Mais voyons, je ne suis qu’un humble passeur, lié par mon devoir."

Morigan secoua la tête, ses yeux brillant d’une lueur dangereuse. Elle fit un pas en avant.

— "Tu as déjà essayé ce tour, n'est-ce pas ? Avec combien d'autres as-tu échoué ?"

Le sourire d’Archeron se figea légèrement, mais il ne répondit pas.

— "Tu n’as aucune autorité ici," poursuivit Morigan, sa voix résonnant comme un avertissement. "C’est nous qui choisissons ce que nous payons, et tu n’as aucun pouvoir pour dicter ce choix."

Archeron ricana, bien que moins confiant.

— "Très bien, très bien... Alors peut-être qu'un simple jeu suffira ?" Ses yeux pétillaient de malice. "Un jeu de devinettes, peut-être ? Si tu gagnes, tu traverses. Si tu perds, je prends ta compagne."

Morigan sourit, mais c'était un sourire glacial.

— "C’est toi qui perdras, Archeron. Comme toujours."

Eirina, légèrement en retrait, observait cette joute verbale avec fascination. Elle savait que Morigan n’était pas du genre à se laisser piéger, mais elle ressentait tout de même une pointe d'inquiétude. Ce monde, cette dimension, était dangereusement imprévisible. Les règles y étaient toujours floues, et même Morigan ne pouvait tout contrôler.

Archeron, sentant que sa ruse échouerait, tenta une dernière manœuvre. Il projeta une illusion, transformant le paysage autour d’elles, changeant le fleuve en un labyrinthe tortueux de miroirs brisés. Des ombres dansaient autour d’elles, des éclats de voix et de rires moqueurs.

— "Le chemin est invisible... ou peut-être ne l’est-il pas ?" murmura Archeron, sa voix se répercutant dans l’air.

Eirina, déstabilisée, tenta de garder son calme, mais Morigan ne fléchit pas. Elle ferma les yeux un instant, laissant ses sens supérieurs déchiffrer la vérité derrière l'illusion.

— "C’est inutile, Archeron," dit-elle en ouvrant les yeux, ses pupilles brillant d'une lumière surnaturelle. "Je vois à travers ton mensonge."

Elle leva la main, et en un instant, l'illusion éclata en milliers de fragments, disparaissant comme de la fumée.

Archeron poussa un long soupir, haussant les épaules.

— "Très bien... Vous avez gagné." Il fit un geste vers le fleuve. "Traversez, si vous l’osez."

Morigan jeta un dernier regard à Archeron avant de faire signe à Eirina de la suivre. Elles avancèrent vers le bord du fleuve, prêtes à affronter ce qui les attendait de l’autre côté. Mais tandis qu’elles s'éloignaient, Eirina jeta un coup d'œil en arrière.

Elle ne put s'empêcher de penser que le sourire d’Archeron n’avait jamais vraiment disparu.

Un frisson la parcourut.

La barque glissait doucement sur la surface calme du fleuve des Mirages. Le passeur, Archeron, ramait avec des gestes lents, réguliers. Eirina et Morigan s'étaient installées silencieusement, leurs yeux fixés sur l'horizon incertain devant elles. L'eau scintillait sous un ciel d’un gris morne, se reflétant comme un miroir brisé où les souvenirs et les rêves se mêlaient indistinctement.

— "Ce travail vous plaît-il ?" demanda soudain Eirina, brisant le silence.

Archeron s'arrêta de ramer un instant, la surprise se lisant sur son visage dissimulé par son capuchon. Ses yeux brillèrent d’un éclat, comme s’il cherchait à comprendre l'intention derrière cette question.

— "Pourquoi me demandes-tu cela ?" rétorqua-t-il d'une voix rauque, mais non hostile.

Eirina baissa les yeux, puis les releva pour le regarder droit dans les siens.

— "Tout semble si... vide ici. Tout à l'heure, vos yeux reflétaient quelque chose de... profond. De la solitude, peut-être ?"

Un silence pesant s'installa de nouveau. Morigan, bien qu’habituée à l’aplomb d’Eirina, fronça légèrement les sourcils. Elle restait toujours sur ses gardes, surtout dans ce monde où chaque parole pouvait être un piège.

Archeron resta immobile, puis, lentement, il posa ses rames, les laissant reposer contre le bord de la barque. Le mouvement fluide de l'eau seule les faisait dériver.

— "Tu es perspicace," dit-il enfin, sa voix plus douce cette fois. Il sembla hésiter, puis reprit, comme s’il n’avait pas raconté cette histoire depuis des siècles. "Tu veux connaître l’histoire de ce monde ? L’histoire de mon peuple ?"

Eirina hocha doucement la tête, tandis que Morigan, intriguée malgré elle, resta silencieuse.

---

"Nous étions autrefois un peuple prospère, respecté et en harmonie avec le cosmos," commença Archeron, son regard se perdant dans le vide. "Notre existence était simple, mais pleine de sagesse. Nous comprenions les lois de l'univers, et surtout, nous savions comment les respecter. Mon peuple... Les Sideri," dit-il en marquant une légère pause. "Des êtres nés des étoiles, ayant pour rôle de maintenir l'équilibre entre les mondes."

Le silence retomba, l’eau clapotant doucement contre les parois de la barque. Archeron reprit, la voix plus lointaine.

"Ma famille, les passeurs, portait un fardeau depuis des éons. C’était notre destin, transmis de génération en génération. Nous devions guider les âmes perdues qui s’aventuraient jusqu’ici et les conduire vers leur jugement. Une tâche que beaucoup voyaient comme une bénédiction... Mais moi, je ne l’ai jamais acceptée." Il serra ses doigts autour des rames, le souvenir amer.

"À la 54e génération, ma génération, je me suis rebellé. Pourquoi devions-nous être les seuls à porter ce fardeau éternel ? Pourquoi n'avions-nous pas le choix de nos propres vies ? Les Sideri adoraient les dieux, non pas par foi, mais par peur. Peur de perdre cette harmonie qui leur avait permis de survivre. Ma révolte... fut vaine. Même ma famille m’a convaincu de la nécessité de ce rôle. Ils disaient que c'était notre responsabilité sacrée de guider ces âmes perdues à travers le fleuve des Mirages. Que sans nous, l'équilibre serait rompu, et le chaos s'installerait."

Archeron marqua une pause, fixant l’horizon trouble devant lui, comme si le passé se rejouait devant ses yeux.

---

"Les jours sont devenus des années... puis des décennies... jusqu'à ce que je cesse de compter."

Il baissa la tête, ses yeux cachés sous son capuchon.

"Mon corps, fait de chair, a commencé à dépérir, mais mon âme... elle est restée. Enfermée dans ces os, condamnée à continuer mon rôle jusqu'à ce que je devienne poussière. Une malédiction que mon peuple appelait bénédiction divine. Ils ne comprenaient pas... Ils ne comprenaient pas que la solitude de l’éternité est bien pire que la mort."

Morigan resta impassible, mais Eirina fronça les sourcils, captée par l’intensité de l’histoire d’Archeron.

"Un jour, lors de l’une de mes traversées,J'ai rencontré une âme….

Sa voix s'adoucit, presque nostalgique.

"Elle n'était pas comme les autres âmes errantes. Elle brillait d'une lumière si forte que j'ai dû me couvrir les yeux. Elle semblait posséder une volonté propre, un libre arbitre que je n'avais jamais vu auparavant chez ceux qui viennent ici. Et pour la première fois depuis des siècles, je me suis senti... vivant."

---

"Elle s'appelait aria," continua Archeron, le nom glissant de ses lèvres avec une révérence singulière. "Nous avons discuté pendant des heures. Elle me parlait de sa vie passée, de ses rêves inachevés. Et moi, je lui ai parlé de ma malédiction. Elle m'écoutait, vraiment. Et dans ses mots... dans ses yeux, j'ai trouvé une lueur d'espoir. Une raison de continuer."

Il sourit tristement sous son capuchon.

"Pour la seconde fois, je me suis opposé aux lois. Je lui ai permis de retourner dans le cycle, de renaître. C'était interdit, bien sûr. Mais je n'avais plus peur des conséquences. J'étais prêt à affronter n’importe quelle punition des êtres de lumière. Pour elle."

Archeron s’arrêta, la barque dérivant lentement. L’ambiance lourde de son récit semblait s'être installée autour d’eux, comme un voile palpable. Eirina, toujours attentive, le regarda avec une sorte de compréhension silencieuse.

---

"Pourquoi... lui as-tu permis de partir ?" demanda-t-elle doucement, son ton empreint de compassion.

Archeron resta silencieux un moment, comme s'il cherchait la réponse en lui-même.

"Parce qu’elle... m’a rappelé qui j’étais. Un être libre. Et elle m'a donné la force de me libérer, ne serait-ce qu'un instant, de cette destinée imposée. C’est tout ce que je désirais. Un moment où je ne serais plus le passeur."

Le silence tomba à nouveau. Puis, soudain, le courant du fleuve sembla se renforcer, secouant la barque.

---

"Le fleuve se souvient," murmura Archeron, les yeux fixés sur l'eau agitée. "Il se souvient des âmes, des désirs, des mensonges. Et il ne pardonne pas."

Morigan fronça les sourcils, sa main se posant sur le manche de son arme par réflexe.

— "Nous allons traverser, quoi qu'il en coûte," déclara-t-elle fermement, ses yeux étincelant d'une détermination farouche.

Archeron soupira, hochant la tête.

— "Très bien," dit-il, reprenant les rames en main. "Mais sachez ceci : ce que vous verrez de l'autre côté... ne sera pas ce que vous attendez."

---

La barque poursuivit son chemin, glissant à travers le fleuve des Mirages, les ombres des âmes perdues flottant autour d'eux comme un murmure silencieux.

The stillness of the river broke violently as the waters began to churn and heave. Giant waves rose from the depths, tossing their small boat as if it were nothing more than a leaf in a storm. Eirina quickly extended her hand, casting a stabilising spell, her magic creating a protective barrier around their vessel. Morigan, her eyes narrowing, touched the hilt of her sword—a sword she had taken after battling against Heroes once . Her magical perception had sensed something lurking beneath the surface.

"Something's rising," she murmured, her grip tightening.

The ferryman’s face paled as he realised what was coming. His voice cracked with fear as he shouted, "It’s the guardian of the river!" And as if in answer, the surface of the water shattered with a deafening roar, revealing a colossal form that towered above them, dwarfing the Himalayas. A monstrous dragon, its body glistening with deep blue scales, rose from the depths, water cascading off its enormous form like waterfalls. Its grotesque face was framed by jagged teeth, long and deadly, each one a scythe of destruction. A half-circle halo floated above its head, a mark of its connection to both the world of the living and the dead.

"Leviathan," the ferryman breathed in astonishment.

Eirina, her gaze fixed on the terrifying creature, asked, "You know this beast?"

The ferryman nodded gravely. "It’s the guardian of the river. When I freed the soul of aria, the beings of paradise descended in their wrath and wiped out my people as punishment. The Leviathan awoke and fought against the holy ones, protecting us. But after a fierce battle, he was sealed deep beneath the layers of the River of Memories. I do not know what has happened now... but something—some influence—has stirred his forgotten rage." His voice trembled as he glanced skyward. The eight moons, the celestial seals that bound the Leviathan, still hung in the sky, their glow unbroken.

Suddenly, without warning, Morigan leapt from the boat, her feet hovering just above the water as she used her levitation magic to stand in midair. She unsheathed her sword and, with a cry of defiance, brought it down upon the Leviathan’s mighty form. Her blade, enchanted with magic powerful enough to amplify its destructive force thirteenfold, struck the beast. But the sword shattered upon contact with the dragon’s impenetrable scales, bursting into shards like fragile glass.

"Wait!" the ferryman cried out, his voice panicked. "Leviathan is no creature of chaos—he’s a protector!"

But as if to deny his words, the Leviathan let out a bellowing roar, unleashing a torrent of water—a laser-like blast with such intensity that the very ocean split in two. The river of memories parted as the searing beam tore through its surface, creating a massive rift in the sea itself. Morigan barely had time to react. She threw up a shield, one of her strongest—its durability equal to the Leviathan’s might—but it was destroyed in an instant, shattering into nothing. The force of the attack was so immense that it ripped one of Morigan’s arms from her body.

Eirina gasped, her heart freezing in horror at the sight. The ferryman stood frozen, his voice lost to the sheer terror that gripped him. The Leviathan’s power, once a force of protection, was now pure, unchecked devastation.

But Morigan was not easily defeated. Without hesitation, she regenerated her arm, the torn flesh reforming effortlessly as though nothing had happened.

Chapter: Clash of Titans—Leviathan vs. Morigan

The air was heavy with tension as the waves churned violently beneath the Leviathan's colossal form, its towering body reflecting the dim glow of the moons. Each of its movements sent tidal waves crashing across the infinite sea. Morigan hovered in the air, a smirk playing on her lips, her regenerated arm flexing as if testing the power that flowed through her veins. Despite the fact that her sword had been shattered moments before, she didn’t seem troubled. Instead, her childish arrogance flared, her eyes glittering with excitement.

“Finally…” she muttered, her voice laced with anticipation, “A worthy opponent.”

The Leviathan’s eyes locked onto her, glowing with a primordial light as it roared once more, its cry shaking the very fabric of the world around them. Without hesitation, the beast launched another blast of water, but this time, Morigan was ready. She raised her hands, casting a complex array of runes that shimmered in the air like ancient symbols of a forgotten language. A massive barrier formed in front of her, absorbing the force of the attack, but even so, the sheer power of the blast caused the sea beneath her to part once more, revealing the dark abyss below.

With a single motion, Morigan dispelled the barrier and launched herself toward the Leviathan, her body leaving a trail of dark energy in its wake. Her hand glowed with a spell designed to rupture the very fabric of reality. She aimed straight for the Leviathan’s chest, her smirk widening as she prepared to deliver a blow that would collapse stars.

But the Leviathan, in an instant, manipulated gravity itself. The space around Morigan distorted as an overwhelming gravitational field pulled her downward, slamming her into the waters below. The weight was immense, as if the whole world was crushing her. Morigan coughed, blood dripping from her lips as she struggled against the force.

“Not bad… not bad at all,” she chuckled, even as her body trembled under the strain. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and in that instant, her aura expanded, violently distorting the space around her. She pushed against the gravity, her own force overpowering it as she slowly rose back into the air.

The Leviathan, unphased, followed up with a terrifying manipulation of light. Beams of searing light shot from its eyes, each one tearing through the sea, splitting waves and evaporating water as they headed straight for Morigan. She dodged effortlessly, her body weaving between the beams like a leaf caught in the wind.

“Heheh… This is fun!” she laughed, her voice ringing out with childish glee. “But let’s see how you handle this.”

With a wave of her hand, Morigan summoned a storm of dark energy, a spell designed to tear apart both body and soul. The sky above them twisted as dark tendrils of magic rained down, each one pulsating with destructive energy that could obliterate any lesser being. The Leviathan roared again, but instead of dodging, it stood firm, the beams of light around it intensifying as it repelled her attack.

The clash of their magic shook the very axis of the world, and the seas themselves responded violently, waves hundreds of meters tall crashing in all directions.

---

Archeron’s Introspection:

As he watched the battle unfold, Archeron could hardly believe his eyes. The Leviathan—the protector of the River of Memories, a being whose power had matched the angels themselves—was locked in battle with a sorceress who appeared to be enjoying the fight.

“Is this really happening?” Archeron whispered to himself, his mind racing. “Who is this woman…? To match the Leviathan’s power… It’s impossible. Only the beings from Heaven could ever hope to stand against it, and even they barely succeeded in sealing it away…”

Each blow that Morigan and the Leviathan exchanged sent shockwaves rippling through the sea, causing destruction on a scale that defied comprehension. The very air felt as though it might tear apart under the pressure.

Eirina, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, her voice low. “If this weren’t a world with 11 axes, we would have been obliterated by now.”

Archeron’s head snapped toward her. “What do you mean by that?”

Eirina’s eyes remained fixed on the battle as she continued, “There are more worlds out there than you could imagine. This is the Eleventh Floor of the Northern Ophanim. We exist on planes far beyond what mortals could ever comprehend.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Archeron’s brow furrowed in confusion. The Eleventh Floor? Northern Ophanim? Her words were foreign, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. “I don’t understand... Where are you going with this?”

Eirina hesitated, her face troubled. “Even I don’t fully understand it… without the explanations of the Demon Lord, I can’t grasp the full scope of what’s happening. I’ve never seen this with my own eyes, nor have I felt his presence.”

Archeron’s heart skipped a beat. The Demon Lord? “But what are you saying? What is this place really?”

“According to the Demon Lord… the higher you ascend, the more of a threat you become to those who rule over existence like disposable dolls. The path we follow deceives us.”

Archeron blinked, his mind flashing back to a moment, long ago. Words, whispered in the back of his mind, words he hadn’t understood then but somehow knew now. “Do you know why you were able to say that?”

He had no answer, but the memory resurfaced. He could clearly recall saying those very words. He had spoken them before, hadn’t he? “…Because before you ascended here, you were able to watch our lives—all the lower realms at once. Their past, their present, their future… even alternate fates.”

Eirina turned to him, her eyes piercing through the fog of his thoughts. “That’s why you knew her name—because you saw it, didn’t you?”

Archeron was at a loss for words. Yes, he had seen it… visions of worlds, playing out like films before his eyes, but he had always thought it was just his gift from the stars, nothing more.

Eirina’s voice lowered, but her words hit like thunder. “Heaven didn’t eradicate your kind for your mistakes. They did it because you were too much like them—beings who could rule fate.”

---

The Battle Continues:

As the words sank in, the battle between Morigan and the Leviathan intensified. The Leviathan unleashed its primordial fear, a force so overwhelming that it could break the minds of even the most resilient. Even beings like Archeron, who no longer had receptacle circuits to process emotions, would feel the crippling terror creeping in. Yet Morigan… smiled.

“Fear, huh?” she muttered, her lips curling into a grin. “That’s a neat trick… but it’s not going to work on me.”

With a snap of her fingers, she unleashed another spell—a concentrated blast of dark energy that collided with the Leviathan’s invulnerable form, shaking the entire realm. Even as she fought, her arrogance shone through, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“This is so much fun!” she laughed, even as blood dripped from her lips, a testament to the damage she had taken. But she didn’t care. The more pain she endured, the more her power grew.

The Leviathan retaliated, sending out a wave of soul damage, a force that could tear apart the very essence of a being. Morigan winced, feeling the attack scrape against her soul, but her grin only widened.

“This is getting interesting…”

The two continued to clash, neither gaining ground, their powers evenly matched.

Chapter: The Abyss Stirs—Morigan’s Fury and the Leviathan’s Rise

The sky split with a thunderous roar as the Leviathan's serpentine form whipped through the air, water cascading from its colossal body. Morigan danced through the torrents of water, barely avoiding the enormous limbs that sliced through the air like living tidal waves. The Leviathan's mastery over water was not limited to simple attacks; it manipulated the entire environment with terrifying precision. Water rose from the ocean in spiraling pillars, striking at Morigan from all directions, their speed and power impossible to predict.

Morigan growled in frustration as another wave crashed into her, forcing her to twist her body at the last moment to avoid being caught in its crushing embrace. She hovered in the air, droplets of water suspended around her as if time had slowed. Her once-proud smirk had twisted into something more strained, her lips curling slightly in annoyance as she wiped blood from her mouth.

"Tch. This is getting tiresome," she muttered under her breath. She launched another series of dark blasts at the Leviathan, each one carrying enough energy to tear apart mountains, but the creature's scales remained unscathed, glimmering in the faint light of the shattered moons.

As the two combatants continued their relentless exchange, Morigan's attacks became increasingly wild, more desperate. She hurled every ounce of her power at the beast, but nothing could pierce its invulnerable hide. Every strike seemed to be absorbed, deflected, or simply ignored. Her frustration grew with each failed attempt.

This beast... It's impossible to pierce those scales...

The Leviathan responded with a surge of water, not from the sea but seemingly drawn from the very air itself. Water spiraled around its form, forming jagged spears that hurled toward her like rain made of blades. Morigan deflected them, her movements growing more erratic, less calculated.

The creature wasn't just attacking with water anymore; it was controlling it on a level far beyond what she had anticipated. The moisture in the atmosphere was bending to its will, forming weapons, barriers, and even tendrils that sought to ensnare her.

It’s not just strength—it’s control...

Morigan's smirk returned briefly. “Heh, you’re good… but not good enough.”

She soared higher into the sky, gathering dark energy around her like a storm cloud. She called upon the essence of Aetheris, her original power base, a force that connected her to the primordial chaos of the cosmos. Unlike the more common forms of energy like mana or ki, Aetheris was the raw, untamed force that governed creation and destruction in equal measure.

But something was wrong.

Her hand faltered, the energy sputtering out. She tried again, but the connection wavered. Morigan's expression darkened as the realization sank in.

“The Aetheris is… unstable.” She muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with disbelief.

The Leviathan roared again, and the waves of water around it intensified, swirling faster and faster as it pressed its advantage. Morigan gritted her teeth as she dodged another barrage, her thoughts racing.

Why can’t I gather it properly? She glanced at the Leviathan, then the world around her. It’s him… His awakening is disrupting the flow of energy. His very presence is disturbing the reception of Aetheris in this realm.

She cursed under her breath. Morigan had fought countless battles against creatures both divine and demonic, yet none had disrupted her powers like this. The Leviathan was more than just a physical force—it was a disruption in the very fabric of the world. She needed a new plan.

I can't brute-force my way through this… I need to outthink it.

Her gaze flickered to the Leviathan’s movements, searching for a weakness. But despite its massive size, the creature was impossibly agile in the water, controlling the battlefield with ease. She needed to act quickly, to find a solution before her dwindling energy left her vulnerable.

With frustration boiling inside her, she turned her gaze toward the distant figure of Archeron, standing atop a broken peak overlooking the battle. His green eyes gleamed faintly in the dark, watching the fight with grim silence.

“Oi, old bone!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the storm. “Why has this thing awakened? What’s going on?”

Archeron’s eyes snapped toward her, his expression unreadable for a moment. He hesitated before responding, his voice heavy with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The seals on the moons are still functioning… or at least they were. But now…” He trailed off as his gaze shifted toward the sky.

His eyes widened in shock.

Above them, the sky, once lit by the faint glow of eight moons, had transformed. The moons were no longer visible. Instead, an expanse of disgusting darkness had swallowed them whole—a void, blacker than the night itself, consuming everything in its path.

“That wasn’t there before…” Archeron muttered, his voice low, filled with confusion. “When I looked earlier, that thing wasn’t there.”

Morigan scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re wrong. The Demon Lord’s void isn’t something that can be seen with mortal eyes. Its power has grown far beyond what it once was, in line with this world’s twisted laws.”

Archeron’s brow furrowed. The Demon Lord? The name rang in his mind like an ominous bell. A being of such immense power, existing in a realm lesser than this one? How was it possible for something of that magnitude to escape his notice? He had sensed nothing, no presence, no disturbance—until now.

If a creature like that exists here...

Eirina, who had been quietly observing, finally broke her silence. “What’s the deal with the moons?” she asked, her voice curious but indifferent. “They’re just trivial stones, aren’t they?”

Archeron turned toward her, shaking his head. “They aren’t just stones. The moons are part of a seal—one that was meant to keep the Leviathan from awakening.”

Eirina raised an eyebrow. “A seal?”

“The Leviathan is a beast of light, a protector,” Archeron explained, his voice distant as if recalling an ancient memory. “It only awakens when the moons lose their radiance. And now, they’re consumed by the void…”

The battle raged on, their titanic clash tearing apart the sky and sea alike, but one thing was becoming increasingly clear. The balance of power was shifting. Something ancient and dark had awakened, and Morigan was beginning to feel its effects.

And in the distance, Archeron stood silent, watching. Wondering.

Morigan found herself locked in deep introspection, trying to formulate a strategy amidst the overwhelming presence of the Leviathan. The beast’s awakening had disturbed the very source of her power, something she had never experienced before. As she deftly dodged the creature's omnidirectional water-based attacks, her mind raced for a plan. She had never relied on trickery to defeat her enemies—neither in her brutal clashes with the heroes nor when she obliterated her own world. But now, facing this legendary beast, she was beginning to reconsider.

The Leviathan unleashed a blinding beam of destructive light, its intensity unmatched by anything she had ever faced. Morigan instinctively raised a deflective shield, the arcane barrier shattering the light but absorbing enough of it to give her a glimmer of inspiration. Her gaze drifted to the eight moons, now corrupted and shrouded in the tainted energy of the void.

"Are the moons enough by themselves?" she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Archeron, standing a few feet away, nodded solemnly. "The seals placed upon the moons are restrictions of eternity, forged by the hands of eight celestial beings. They are eternal... or they should have been."

Morigan's eyes darted to Eirina. Their gaze met, and for a brief second, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Without hesitation, Eirina shot into the sky, ascending toward the corrupted moons. Her intent was clear: she aimed to dispel the void’s hold, even if only for a fleeting moment.

But as she drew closer, the void revealed itself not as a tangible force but an abstract entity, existing beyond the realms of physical and spiritual planes. The closer she got, the more the void seemed to defy all logic and reason. She attempted a spell of magical dissipation, only to watch in frustration as it disintegrated into nothingness upon contact with the formless fog of the void.

Her mind raced through every possibility, using scientific calculations and mathematical precision to analyse the nature of the void. The void wasn’t merely an energy that could be dissipated—it was an abstract force, an embodiment of nothingness, a contradiction to the very laws of magic and existence. To counter such a force, one would need to reach the root of its existence. Eirina knew there was only one type of magic that could touch the Nexus of Concepts—the realm where abstract ideas, thoughts, and primordial forces like the void originated.

But that magic came with a terrible price.

The only spell in her possession capable of accessing the Nexus of Concepts was forbidden. Even the Demon King had forbidden its use because it would drain her life force significantly, shortening her existence in ways that even immortals would fear.

Eirina glanced at Morigan, who was still engaged in a brutal battle against the Leviathan, buying her precious time. Doubt filled her mind. She wasn’t as powerful as Morigan or the Demon King or the other Apostles. She often questioned her place among them, feeling like an outcast in the face of such overwhelming power. But now, if she failed in her only task, what good was she?

Her hesitation grew, gnawing at her confidence. But Morigan’s sharp voice broke through her internal monologue.

“Do it, Eirina!” Morigan shouted, her voice clear despite the chaos. “There’s no time!”

With a deep sigh, Eirina silenced her doubts. She began reciting the incantation, her voice rhythmic and resonant, as though each word carried the weight of the universe:

"From the depths of oblivion, where light fades and shadows grow,

By the will of the first spark, the flame of the cosmos shall bestow.

Purify this hollowed void, bring forth the dawn of truth untold,

With radiant force, I cast thee, let the darkness now unfold."

Archeron, observing from below, widened his eyes in realization. “She’s invoking Arcana Luxis...” His voice was barely a whisper, laced with awe. “That magic is forbidden for a reason…”

Before he could finish his thought, Eirina's incantation reached its peak. She called out the name of the forbidden spell, “Luxis Arcana!” and a surge of violet light exploded into the world. The magic shot forth like a blazing beam of salvation, racing toward the void with unimaginable speed.

The moment the two forces collided, the air shimmered, the clash too great for mortal senses to fully comprehend. It was as if reality itself blinked—time froze for the briefest instant, and the world seemed to hold its breath. In the silence of that heartbeat, the void recoiled. It was a flicker, a pulse, a single beat of a butterfly’s wings, and then—nothing.

The void dissipated.

Morigan seized that fleeting window of opportunity. With the moons restored, even for a moment, the Leviathan’s power weakened. His water manipulation grew sluggish, his scales dimmed. Morigan's eyes glinted dangerously as she gathered her energy.

“Primordial magic...” she whispered, her voice filled with resolve. Morigan stretched out her hand, and the world trembled in response.

She began to chant, her words vibrating through the very essence of existence:

"O ancient forces, born of first creation,

Rise from the depths, heed my summoning incantation.

By the light of stars and the shadows of night,

Bring forth the end, unleash primordial might!"

The ground split open as her primordial magic took shape, coiling and twisting through the air like serpents made of raw power. In a matter of seconds, a torrent of elemental energy surged toward the Leviathan, striking his exposed form with unrelenting force.

The battle had taken a critical turn. Though the Leviathan was still a force to be reckoned with, the balance had shifted. Morigan’s intellect, combined with Eirina’s forbidden magic, had bought them the time they needed. The tide was turning, and the Leviathan’s hold on this world was slipping.

But Morigan knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning. The void’s presence had left a lasting mark on the moons and, more importantly, on the flow of energy in this realm. The true battle was far from over.

Morigan’s hands surged with unrestrained power, summoning a force from the primordial aetheris. Without needing an incantation, she drew from the most ancient energies—the forces that predated creation itself. From the sky, a humongous sword descended, its sheer size and magnitude enough to convince anyone it was a divine punishment. The blade, radiant and terrible, fell with a swift, unrelenting velocity, striking the Leviathan directly in the chest. The impact unleashed waves of power, so tremendous that the sea churned into a violent frenzy, sending colossal surges across the horizon.

The sword’s descent shattered the world around it, as if reality itself trembled in awe of such destructive force. Eirina's protective barrier over the boat, strong as it was, couldn't withstand the force and shattered into nothingness, leaving their vessel to crumble into ruin. The debris scattered across the turbulent sea, as Archeron gripped tightly onto what remained of the boat, his knuckles white as he fought to keep from being swallowed by the swirling vortex beneath him—the Sea of Memories. The pull of the water was strong, its surface a dark whirlpool that seemed to stretch into eternity, but Archeron’s resolve held firm.

As the Leviathan collapsed into the sea, its colossal body slowly sinking into the depths like a lifeless corpse, something strange occurred. Its scales, once shimmering with vitality, began to fragment and disperse, drifting upwards in the air like shattered pieces of glass. They hung in the atmosphere, glittering with a strange, ethereal light. Archeron watched in silence as they danced in the wind, each scale representing a memory—a fragment of the beast’s ancient history.

And then, as if touched by an unseen force, one of the fragments floated toward Archeron. His eyes, normally cold and hardened by centuries of battle, softened as he saw what lay within the fragment. His breath caught in his throat. It was a memory—a glimpse of a time long forgotten. The image of his family, of his daughter, flashed before his eyes. Her face was as clear as the day he had lost her. For the first time in centuries, Archeron’s composure broke. He, who had thought himself beyond the reach of emotion, found himself overwhelmed by a flood of sorrow and longing.

Slowly, he stepped forward, walking on the surface of the chaotic sea, his gaze locked on the fragment as if in a trance. His hand reached out, trembling, yearning to touch the memories of his kind—the lost ones, the forgotten souls. But before his fingers could make contact, the scales disintegrated into light dust, vanishing into the sky. Archeron’s hand lingered in the air, now empty, his heart heavy with a grief he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in eons. His soul was drowning in the weight of the past, in the faces of those he could no longer save.

From above, Eirina watched the scene unfold, her eyes narrowing as an unfamiliar feeling stirred within her. The Leviathan had been defeated, its form now dissolving into the sea, but something else gnawed at her consciousness. Her gaze shifted to the moons above, still scarred by the corruption of the void. As she watched, a new unease settled into her heart. Trapped within the surface of the moons, she could make out faint shapes—figures with wings, their forms like paintings etched into the celestial bodies.

Angels.

When the arcane nullifying spell had collided with the void, something had shifted, and for a brief moment, she had heard echoes—whispers slipping into her mind. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, but its tone was unmistakable. It was one of gratitude, a resonance that felt like salvation. It was as though the figures within the moons—the angels—were speaking to her, their voices buried deep within her soul. One by one, the figures began to disappear, fading from the surface of the moons as their names echoed in Eirina's thoughts, each one clearer than the last.

"Barachiel."

"Selaphiel."

"Jegudiel."

"Phanuel."

"Anael."

"Zadkiel."

"Haniel."

"Cassiel."

Their names resonated through her mind like a chorus, a procession of forgotten celestial beings now freed from an eternal curse. Eirina closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their existence slip away, a burden lifted from her consciousness. And then, she understood. The feeling that had stirred within her moments ago, the strange sensation that had welled up in her chest—it was a sense of salvation, not for herself, but for them. For the angels, trapped for eons in a cycle of torment, now liberated.

As she opened her eyes again, she turned her attention to Archeron, still standing frozen on the water’s surface, his gaze lost in the void of his memories. Her voice was low, carrying a quiet accusation, but also a profound sadness.

“Power breeds arrogance. You destroyed out of selfishness and were caught in your own design.”

Her words hung in the air like a damning truth, piercing through the stillness around them. The weight of his race's sins, the destruction wrought without reason, weighed heavy on Archeron’s shoulders now. The massacre of the angels—an act of unprovoked cruelty—was not a mistake, but a deliberate choice. And in the end, it was this very cruelty that had ensnared his kind in their own downfall.

Eirina’s gaze turned skyward, her expression unreadable, before her voice echoed once more, this time in a quiet reflection about the gods who ruled over them all.

“Gods fear what they impose on their lesser beings.”

The gods had set forth laws and expectations upon humanity, upon the angels, and even upon the demons. Yet they feared the very things they had created. They feared rebellion, they feared disobedience, and most of all, they feared losing control over the creatures they deemed inferior.

And now, standing amidst the ruins of battle, the echoes of those fears reverberated through Eirina’s soul. The battle with the Leviathan was over, but the war—the one fought in the realms of gods, demons, and mortals—was far from finished. And as the last vestiges of light faded from the moons above, Eirina knew that what lay ahead would test them in ways far beyond the power of any spell or blade.

It would test their very souls.

The Leviathan’s colossal form finally dissipated, fading into a dust of shimmering light that scattered across the surface of the Sea of Memories. Archeron stood motionless, his gaze lingering on the vast expanse of the water, his mind steeped in a sensation unfamiliar to him—an emotion he could neither name nor understand. It was foreign, and yet it was overwhelming. If he still possessed his human form, his body of flesh, or the ability to produce tears, he might have wept.

A voice interrupted the silence, light but piercing.

“Was that a close friend?” Morigan’s tone was soft, almost hesitant as she leaped to stand beside him. Her feet hovered just above the water's surface, buoyed by her levitation skill. Unlike Archeron, she couldn’t walk steadily upon the sea, which roiled with the influence of countless memories—the remnants of those who had passed through this place.

Archeron didn’t turn to face her immediately. His mind was still lost in the echo of what he had seen, what he had felt. His voice was low, and the words, when they finally came, were burdened with the weight of centuries.

“She was my daughter...” His eyes, for the briefest of moments, flickered with a distant light. “Her name was Seraphine.” The name came out as if pulled from a place he had long buried. “One day, she got lost while searching for me. That was when I met Aria… for the first time, I felt joy. Joy so strong that I nearly forgot my family.”

He paused, trying to hide his face, his shame palpable. The memory of Seraphine—a memory that had lain dormant for so long—now clung to him like a shadow, one that had always been there but had only now emerged to haunt him.

“I’ve always looked for her,” he continued, his voice trembling with regret. “Every time I traversed the river, I did so with the hope that somewhere... somewhere out there, she would be waiting.”

Morigan listened silently, her dark eyes shifting from Archeron’s forlorn figure to the moons that hung in the sky above. There, Eirina stood, her figure almost otherworldly, mesmerized by something far beyond their understanding.

Morigan’s voice broke the quiet once more, her gaze still fixed on the moons. “You chose satisfaction over duty. Maybe this is the price you pay. Why else would you be stripped of your emotional receptors?”

Her words hung in the air like a judgment. Archeron’s shoulders tensed at her remark, his hand instinctively gripping his chest where a heart would have once beat. The weight of her statement bore down on him, a truth he couldn’t deny.

“Yes…” he whispered. His voice cracked, a faint tremor running through it.

Morigan knew, though she hadn’t spoken it aloud, that Seraphine had met her end within the Sea of Memories, searching for the father who had once abandoned her. Her memories, now scattered like shards of glass, had become part of the sea itself—fragments of a lost soul mingling with countless others.

With a softer tone, as though sensing the fragility in Archeron’s demeanor, Morigan spoke again, this time with a touch of something unfamiliar—sympathy.

“Old man,” she began, her voice hesitant, “what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you that, can I?”

Her black hair swayed in the breeze, carried by the gentle winds that had calmed after the Leviathan’s fall. For a fleeting moment, Archeron saw something in her—a reflection of Seraphine, a fleeting illusion that almost made him believe it was her standing before him. His chest tightened, his mind grappling with the delusion, but deep down, he knew the truth. He was clinging to a false hope, one born of desperation.

“Noah…” he said at last, his voice faint, almost like a whisper lost to the wind. It was the name he had once gone by, long before he had become Archeron, the guide of lost souls.

Morigan gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. “Well then, farewell, Noah.” She leaped from the boat, landing gracefully on the solid ground nearby as she called out to Eirina, her voice carrying across the empty expanse.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. But Eirina didn’t respond at first. She stood motionless, dazed by the void that had enveloped the moons above. Even from where she stood, Morigan could feel it too—the corrupt, negative energy radiating from the celestial bodies. It was a twisted power, one that gnawed at the edges of one’s mind, capable of driving even the strongest-willed into madness without protection.

Eirina leapt back, her feet steady as she landed on the opposite shore, putting distance between herself and the overwhelming force. Her eyes still fixed on the moons, she finally spoke.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Noah.

Noah didn’t answer immediately. His eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the sea met the sky. There was nothing there, nothing worth seeing, and yet he stared into the emptiness as if searching for something—some distant hope, some reason to remain.

“I will continue my duty as a Passer,” he said, his voice steady but distant. “I am Archeron… the guide of lost souls.”

Eirina’s eyes softened as she regarded him. “The curse is lifted, and the beast of water is gone. There’s nothing forcing you to stay in this lonely place any longer.”

Noah’s silence stretched on, his thoughts turning inward. He spoke not to Eirina, but to himself, his words filled with a quiet resignation. He knew that loneliness awaited him, that the isolation he had endured for centuries would continue, perhaps forever. But this was his atonement. His sins were many, and though the curse had been lifted, the weight of his past could never be erased.

"I’m not alone," he thought to himself, his gaze lowering to the water at his feet. "I have the memories of the sea with me. Each one is a soul, a fragment of a life lived. They are my companions now."

His eyes flickered with a brief, melancholic acceptance. "Don’t worry about me. This is where I belong."

He waved his hand in a simple gesture of farewell, his voice quiet as he spoke to Eirina and Morigan one last time.

“Now, you may go if you don’t want to miss the next embarkation.”

With that, he turned away, his figure disappearing into the haze of the sea, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his presence.

"For a moment, silence filled the air, broken only by the soft echo of their footsteps. The world around them was a strange reflection of reality—distorted, almost unrecognizable. Fate had never been kind to those who dared to challenge it, Eirina thought. And Leviathan, like so many before him, had become a victim of that truth.

“Gravity is strange here,” Eirina said, attempting to shift her focus. “It feels... flat. Lighter, somehow.”

They passed through cosmic structures that defied the laws of nature—swirling galaxies, nebulae, and vast expanses that seemed to stretch endlessly into the void. The stars themselves flickered like dying flames, barely resisting the pull of the abyss ahead.

And then, in the distance, Eirina saw it. A massive structure bathed in golden light, floating above the void expanse.

“Is that...?” Eirina asked, her voice trailing off as she stared in awe.

“The Arc of Salvation,” Morigan answered, her voice steady.

The arc shimmered in the darkness, a colossal vessel unlike anything Eirina had ever seen. It glowed with an ethereal brilliance, its form massive, almost overwhelming.

A massive structure, like Noah’s ship but shining with a golden hue that contrasted sharply with the blackness around it.

Eirina’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon the arc. Its sheer size was staggering, its golden light blinding amidst the void. “It’s... incredible,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Morigan agreed. “The last hope for those who dare to traverse the void.”

Beyond the arc, —the Void Expanse—stretched out endlessly. It was a vast, consuming darkness, devouring everything in its path. Stars, planets, even entire worlds were being swallowed, reduced to nothingness by the hunger of the void—the stars vanished one by one, like embers extinguished in the cold night.

Eirina could feel it now, the oppressive pull of the void, a relentless force that devoured all light and life. Within the abyss, twisted forms moved— the creatures of the void. They were ethereal, their shapes barely tangible, mere shadows of existence. Yet their presence was suffocating, their power undeniable.

“How can anything survive this?” Eirina muttered, watching the void consume everything in its path.

Morigan didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the arc, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Deep within her, questions churned—questions she could not yet answer.

The Demon Lord... why does he want to annihilate the fifteen upper worlds? Morigan’s mind raced with thoughts she hadn’t allowed herself to voice. Is it truly just destruction he seeks? Or is there something more?

The void consumed everything—everything. And yet, the Demon Lord seemed to want more than mere annihilation. Morigan couldn't shake the feeling that there was a purpose behind it, something hidden beneath the surface.

“We’re almost there,” Morigan said, her voice breaking the silence as she leapt over a twisted peak that defied the very laws of nature.

Eirina followed her, her mind still lingering on the image of the void and its devouring hunger. The vastness of the expanse was overwhelming, but what disturbed her most were the —the creatures that dwelled within it.

"Here," Morigan said suddenly, pulling Eirina from her thoughts.

Eirina looked up, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her.

The Arc of Salvation loomed above them, shimmering in the cold, dark sky.

The Arc of Salvation moved slowly to those with a basic understanding of time and universal causality. But for beings like Eirina and Morigan, who could transcend such trivial concepts, its true speed was visible. Faster than time itself, the linear flow of reality twisted in every direction, hopelessly trying to catch up.

A loud howl rang from the ship, almost shattering the surrounding stars. The void dispersed, blown away like dust for kilometers. From within the void, where the Arc had passed, they saw them—lost souls, walking toward the entrance of the ship. Glimmering in faint hues of red and white, these spirits floated without concern, pulled towards a fate they could not resist.

"Those are..." Eirina muttered, her voice low with awe.

"Souls of the dead who have crossed the sea. The Arc is their final transport to judgment," Morigan replied, leaping into the sky above. If one could call this expanse a sky at all. Before them stretched an unending void, a great abyss devouring everything in its path. Even time and space.

They landed on the ship’s glowing structure, and immediately, they felt a strange sensation, as if without their levitation skills, they would have fallen right through the ship’s surface, passing through it as if it were a mirage.

"An illusion," Morigan noted. "The Arc only accepts those free from physical constraints." To traverse the ship, they warped a mirage magic around their bodies, changing their forms into ethereal, immaterial beings. Now, they could walk among the dead.

Eirina’s eyes scanned the figures floating around them. Men, women, children, even animals and plants. All lost souls on their final journey. She noticed a young woman with long black hair, floating near a beastman dressed in cleric’s robes. Strange, she thought, that souls could be sent to the world of death with their clothing intact. Perhaps some had special meaning in life.

Among the dead, there was also a flower. A small, radiant Hortensia, shimmering in white light, with purple petals. A flower in death, yet still full of life’s brilliance.

Morigan, on the other hand, searched the faces of the souls, looking for someone—Thalassa, her friend, who had been killed by the heroes. But no matter how long she looked, Thalassa was nowhere to be found. Morigan didn’t bother looking for Ladon. As a creature of the void, Ladon would simply return to the abyss, waiting for the Demon Lord to summon him again.

The pond of souls that would normally take four years to traverse for humans passed in mere minutes. Another trumpet sounded, and the ship retracted itself. The lost souls were all gathered into a vast hall, its size incomprehensible, like the inside of a giant shield, doubled in width and height.

Eirina marveled at the sight above them. A massive pair of golden doors stood at the far end of the hall, towering over everything. The doors were carved with intricate patterns, resembling the wings of angels. Heavenly symbols, shimmering with divine light, adorned the stone, reflecting a forgotten paradise.

On a raised platform above the doors, two figures stood. Girls, with strange uniforms that resembled military guard attire. One wore a police hat, marked with reversed angel wings and a halo as a symbol. Her long red hair flowed down her back, and her eyes—one red, one blue—glowed with strange, cross-shaped pupils. The other wore a similar uniform but in different colors, signifying, perhaps, a different rank. Her short blue hair matched her uniform, and though her eyes were bicolored like her companion's, they lacked the cross-shaped pupils.

From where Eirina stood, she wondered what the souls beneath them looked like to those two. To them, the souls must’ve appeared like mere ants.

Suddenly, the red-haired one spoke, her voice cold and laced with venom.

“Pathetic,” she spat, her tone dripping with contempt. “You wretched beings... What a disgrace to the universe. Crawling through life only to end up here, awaiting judgment like cattle to the slaughter. No one mourns you, no one remembers you. You’re nothing but fodder for the void’s maw, clinging to your last moments as if they meant anything.”

Her words echoed through the grand hall, every syllable filled with disgust and arrogance. The souls beneath them stirred, though powerless to respond.

"You thought death would bring you peace? How laughable. Peace is a gift for the strong, for those who understand true power. Not for weaklings like you. You should be grateful even to stand in this hall, where your fates will be decided. Worthless."

The arrogance of the red-haired girl was palpable. Her companion, though silent, seemed to share her disdain, eyes glinting with the same cruel satisfaction.

Eirina clenched her fists, but Morigan placed a hand on her shoulder, silently cautioning her to remain calm. This was not their place to interfere—yet.

The hall was vast, echoing with the whispers of lost souls, and the heavy golden doors loomed over all, a testament to the finality of judgment. Yet, as Eirina watched the procession of souls and the disdainful guards above, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.