The church doors were open.
Candles flickered, and the soft murmurs of the nuns' prayers filled the air.
When they saw Anna, a heavy silence fell. The priests paused briefly, then hurried toward her.
Anna, on her knees, gently laid Vantias on the altar.
Her eyes still held a glimmer of hope.
Her lips trembled as she whispered just one sentence:
"Don't take him from us… please…"
Down below,
Vantias' lifeless body lay stretched across a stone slab,
surrounded by familiar... and broken faces.
Sylphy knelt beside him, tears streaming freely onto his cold hands.
Anna wept in silence — her stifled sobs seemed audible even from a distance.
Daggerol stood motionless, fists clenched, but his eyes held a quiet sorrow.
William, hands trembling, murmured a prayer under his breath —
as if pouring every last bit of his faith into a final chance.
The scene was silent...
but heavier than any scream.
Vantias stared at the vision, his mouth slightly open.
With a trembling voice, he asked:
"Is this… is this real?"
The Ferryman said nothing.
Sometimes, silence speaks louder than any answer.
Inside the church, a blue mist began to fill the space.
The candlelight barely danced, shadows flickered along the stone walls.
The silence was only broken by Anna's faint sobs, and Sylphy's strained breaths.
Vantias' body lay still on the stone altar.
His face was peaceful — but carried the expression of someone still fighting, beyond the veil of life.
At that moment, the church doors opened again with a gentle creak.
A cold wind slipped through the columns of the sanctuary. The flames wavered...
And a man in a flowing blue robe entered —
a glowing cross in one hand,
and a book in the other, its cover shimmering like a galaxy.
Alderyn, the Azure Sage.
He appeared youthful, perhaps in his early twenties.
Golden eyes, long pale blue hair —
his beauty was that of the stars,
shining like a sun, as if *presence itself* found meaning through him.
Daggerol immediately dropped to one knee.
William looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Sylphy, tear-streaked, paused.
Anna turned to him, clinging to a fragile hope.
With a quivering voice, she asked:
"Can you… save him?"
Alderyn stepped forward, his robe trailing like night mist.
He stood beside Vantias' body, looked down at him, closed his eyes, and gently said:
"This soul's journey isn't over yet.
I can bring him back…"
He held the glowing cross above Vantias, opened the cosmic book…
and began to chant in a language that sounded like the whisper of stars —
a voice drawn from the depths of the cosmos itself.
The incantation was weighty, yet gentle,
like a lullaby sung by galaxies.
A star-shaped mark on the back of Alderyn's hand began to shine.
✨
"In nomine stellarum… lux redeat… animam vocamus…"
(*In the name of the stars… let the light return… we call the soul...*)
✨
With each word, a blue light streamed from the cross toward Vantias' body.
Veins of light, like galactic pathways, began to appear across his skin.
His body trembled slightly… but remained still.
Sylphy sobbed:
"Please… don't let us lose him!"
Alderyn opened his eyes for a moment, glanced at her, and said:
"Doubt dims both faith and hope."
He repeated the incantation, louder now —
with such force that the ceiling of the church subtly trembled.
The cross glowed brighter.
Tiny stars — particles of light — appeared, floating in the air.
And then, in that moment…
Vantias' heart gave a faint beat.
Standing beside the Ferryman,
Vantias watched the scene unfold —
his sister kneeling at the altar,
his friends caught between faith and despair.
But suddenly...
something changed.
A strange sensation rose from within his hands.
He looked down — the lines of his palms began to glow.
His body shimmered, as if breaking down into light —
but not toward death.
Toward return.
Particles of light, like golden ash in the wind, detached from him
— drawn toward a single point below,
toward the church.
Terrified and confused, he turned to the Ferryman.
With a trembling voice full of wonder, he asked:
"W-What's happening? Am I… disappearing?"
The Ferryman said nothing.
Only his robe stirred gently in the strange wind of that realm.
A moment later, he finally spoke —
his voice like the echo of centuries:
"No…
You're returning."
Vantias — or perhaps *Cyrus* once more —
now felt himself separating from this plane.
In the light surrounding him, muffled voices began to seep in from the physical world —
Anna's crying, the priests' prayers,
the slow beat of a heart awakening...
And just before he was completely consumed by light,
the Ferryman stepped back, struck the ground with his cane,
and with a piercing gaze, said:
"Make your last chance count… Cyrus."
Everything blurred.
The lights danced like fractured shadows in Vantias' vision.
The sounds — distant, muffled, broken by echoes —
as if heard from the bottom of a deep well.
All he could feel was the weight of his breath…
and the weakness of limbs that no longer obeyed him.
But within the darkness, within the fog of exhaustion that clung to his soul,
he heard sounds of a different kind.
Not screams. Not wailing.
But tears that cracked through laughter.
Hands, not parting, but reaching.
Voices of joy, tangled with disbelief.
As though… a miracle had happened.
And then, a different voice —
one from memory,
heavy, grave… and sorrowful:
"I'm sorry…
But this one's journey has ended.
There's nothing I can do."
It was **Alderyn**.
His voice echoed like stone chamber walls within Vantias' mind.
He was looking at Gazel's body.
He lowered his head — not out of defeat, but in respect.
Vantias still couldn't see clearly.
His vision was blurred, his mind clouded.
But his heart… his heart *knew* what had happened.
Tears slipped from his half-open eyes, unbidden.
With all his remaining strength, in a shattered, weakened body,
he raised his hand — trembling, powerless, but determined.
As if to grasp one last thread connecting him to Gazel
before everything slipped away.
His hand stretched out —
but the distance was too great…
And before it could reach,
darkness swallowed him once again.
Silence.
And in that silence, a bitter contrast was born —
Vantias' return, a spark of hope.
But Gazel's death…
a cruel wind that threatened to extinguish it.
As though existence itself stood on a fragile scale:
On one side, return.
On the other, loss.
And all they could do…
was watch.
At the crossroads of mourning and miracle.