The storm had passed, and in its wake, the ruined church breathed silence—a reverent stillness that settled like dew on broken stone.
Marisol stood at the center, radiant and still, her transcendent form casting long, fluid shadows that curled like petals around her feet. Her gown shimmered—woven from darkness, roses, and the wild ache of something ancient and new.
In her arms, Eri squirmed.
"Okay, okay," Eri huffed, cheeks flushed. "You're squeezing too hard. I get it, we're alive. Let go before I pass out."
Marisol laughed softly—relieved, breathless—and set her gently down. Eri rolled her shoulders and muttered something under her breath, but didn't move away.
The chimera, still curled protectively nearby, gave a low rumble. Its voice echoed not in sound but in sensation—like a ripple through the roots of the soul.
Marisol turned toward it, nodding solemnly. "I hear you."
She stepped forward as the creature split apart. She raised a hand, palm open to the creature. "You've waited long enough."
As if released from an unseen bond, the shadows clinging to the chimera's form began to peel away—slowly, deliberately. Black mist coiled and lifted, strip by strip, like silk unraveling from ancient statues.
Beneath the rippling shadows, true shapes emerged.
The dire wolf came first—its fur gleaming like oiled iron, eyes burning gold. Then the reptilian followed, scales slick with phantom water, droplets steaming where they touched the ground. The unicorn's mane billowed in streaks of black, white, and blood-red along its spine. And last, the gorilla stepped forward, its broad form crowned in thick hair curled like living fire around its fists.
Marisol placed her hand over her chest. Behind her, the air split with a soft whisper—as if the world itself was exhaling. Shadows peeled back like silk curtains, revealing a tear into the Otherworld, glowing with threads of gold and silver light.
"I promise you this," she whispered, her voice gentle but unshakable. "When we cross over… all shadows will be given form. No more waiting. No more hiding."
The creatures stirred at her back—silent, reverent—as they faded into the rift.
She looked over the others—Lila, Aiden, Rowan—each still at a loss for words on what to do next.
She tilted her head, almost playful. "Now then… what to do with the rest of you?"
The squirrels nesting in her hair stirred gently, as if even they were curious about her next move.
Marisol stepped forward, arms loosely folded behind her back. "I'm going to the Otherworld..." she said.
She glanced at them, her smile small but real.
"Would you like to come with me?"
Aiden hesitated, but only for a moment. "Our place is here," he said calmly.
Rowan nodded. "Besides, Carlos is still out there."
Marisol closed her eyes for a beat, breathing in knowing this would be their answer. When she opened them again, they glowed just a little softer.
"I understand," she said. "But I'll miss you. All of you."
Aiden stepped forward, slowly removing the Ring of Vows from his hand.
"You should have this," he said. "This power needs to go back where it belongs."
Marisol shook her head gently, pushing his hand back.
"What do you mean?," she whispered. "The ring is right where it belongs."
Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment—grateful, proud.
"You can both use your weapons' true potential now," she said.
Rowan glanced at her spear, her mouth pulling into a doubtful grimace. "Yeah? Because It's not exactly feeling different."
"Maybe from a certain point of view," Marisol said gently. She placed a hand on Rowan's shoulder. "You've been fighting with fear, with anger. But your darkness... it was never about power."
She stepped back, her dark gown trailing mist behind her.
"It's about what you lost. About your desire. Accept it. And let me do the rest."
Rowan inhaled sharply, gripping the spear tighter.
The weapon pulsed in her hands, golden-red light spilling from the cracks. Around her, faint motes of flames shaped like phoenix feathers drifted in the air like burning snowflakes.
Rowan closed her eyes, steadying her breathing.
In the dark, there was only one desire. Phoebe... to be by her side again.
The spear shuddered—and then split apart in a blinding burst of light.
When it cleared, Phoebe stood before her, reborn.
Her form shimmered with soft flames, her hand reaching out for Rowan like no time had passed at all.
Rowan's heart seized painfully. She dropped her weapon and ran into Phoebe's arms, nearly knocking them both down.
"You idiot," Rowan muttered, her voice cracking.
"I missed you too," Phoebe whispered, laughing through tears.
They held onto each other like the world would tear apart again if they let go.
Marisol turned to Lila next, her expression softening as she brushed a hand gently over Lila's rounded stomach.
"You and Aiden," she said, her voice thick with feeling, "are going to be amazing parents."
Lila's eyes glistened. "Are you sure? After everything—"
"No harm came to your baby," Marisol assured her, pressing Lila's hand against her own heart. "They lent you their strength. That's all that needs to be said."
Eri turned her head slightly toward Lila, her voice more stern than usual. "Your baby is no more evil than me or Mari. Don't listen to that fool."
Lila's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she looked like she might break from the stress—then she exhaled, steadied herself, and nodded.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Aiden offered her his hand, and she took it. He helped her to her feet.
Marisol stepped beside Eri, eyes still glimmering with emotion. "You ready?"
Eri gave a little smirk, her usual bite softened by something gentler. "Yeah. Let's go home."
She looked around at the faces of their makeshift family—Rowan, Phoebe, Lila, Aiden, even the tiny chibi-sized Eri—and felt the weight of goodbye settle in her chest.
"I'm proud of all of you," Marisol whispered. "But it's time."
Together, they turned toward the tear in reality—the glowing passage into the Otherworld—and stepped through, side by side.
The Otherworld awaited.
As she passed through, the last thing she heard was everyone's voice, half-choked but fierce:
"Good bye, Mari!"
Above the shattered skyline, the Otherworld unfolded.
Sylva was already waiting.
She floated beneath the meeting boughs of Yggdrasil and the Doom Tree, her gown a cascade of pastel pinks, whites, and soft blues that shimmered with golden light. Blossoms bloomed and faded across the delicate fabric in a quiet, eternal rhythm, and her crown of interwoven branches sparkled with star-like orbs caught in living bark. Shadows wove subtly through the light, not in conflict—but in harmony. She was radiant and whole, a guardian of both time and endings. Her eyes met Marisol's with a calm, knowing light.
"I've been waiting for you," she said.
To Marisol, she looked like the memory of spring itself—rebirth wrapped in grace, after the cool frost of winter. And yet… there was still sadness in her eyes. A weight behind the warmth.
Eri perked up, offering a small wave. "Hey, Sylva."
Sylva smiled gently. "Hello, Eri. You did well… thank you for saving them all."
Eri blinked, clearly caught off guard, then gave a crooked grin. "Just as promised."
Sylva turned to Marisol, her expression softening further. "And you... should I call you eri as well, child?"
"No..", Marisol said with no hesitation. Her voice rang clear and full of weight. "I'm Marisol."
Sylva's smile deepened. "What a beautiful name."
She extended her hand.
Marisol glanced down at Eri, then scooped her up without a word—settling her comfortably on one hip. Then, with her free hand, she took Sylva's.
The moment their fingers touched, the Otherworld responded.
On one side, Yggdrasil's roots arched skyward like living spires—bleached white, threaded with veins of luminous gold. Each tendril pulsed with possibility, branching endlessly into timelines not yet written. The air around them shimmered with warmth, like sunlight through frost-tipped leaves.
On the other, the Doom Tree's branches unfurled in breathtaking silence—a canopy of crimson, emerald, and deep shadow, each limb blossoming with memories too vivid to die. Flowers bloomed like lanterns across its bark—not wilted with regret, but radiant with longing. The petals shimmered in the breeze, whispering forgotten names in a language only the soul could hear.
At the center, where the roots met, new life sprang forth—an entire world knitting itself together, piece by piece.
Flowers of impossible colors bloomed along their branches.
Rivers of clear and crimson wound through endless fields.
The Otherworld was no longer a place of ruins and fragments.
It was becoming a living world.
And standing beneath the blooming Doom Tree, her dark gown rippling in the newborn winds, Marisol smiled.
She wasn't just the Doom Tree.
She was its heart.
Its hope.
Its future.
And its promise that no one—no dream, no soul—would ever be lost in the dark again.