The dead moved like a tide obeying the moon.
One command.
One will.
His.
Raiden's father lifted his hands, and everything that had ever died here—or been dragged here—answered.
The corpses we'd already cut down lurched back to their feet.
Skyguard soldiers who had fallen moments ago snapped upright with broken necks and hollow eyes.
Beast-bodies writhed, bones grinding as they re-knit wrong.
Even the severed parts—the scattered limbs, the heads—dragged themselves through blood and shadow toward the nearest body like magnets seeking metal.
The army doubled.
Tripled.
The weight of it pressed against my chest. All those lives twisted into puppets, denied even the dignity of rest. It was suffocating.
I stood at Raiden's side.
The bond flared—too bright, too raw—his emotions churning into me until I almost couldn't tell where his ended and mine began.
Rage.
Betrayal.
Grief.
A son's grief, buried but never gone.
A prince's rage sharpened by duty.
A man's betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.
It shouldn't be him.
Fathers were supposed to be stories you outgrow—
not nightmares that stepped out of the dark with the dead bowing at their feet.
"Raiden," I said softly.
He didn't look at me.
His eyes were locked on the man in black armor, as if blinking would make him vanish.
Revik raised his sword dripping black ichor, chest heaving. Muir's hands clenched as ice began to crawl over his forearms like armor. Above us, Tadewi shifted into human form and landed lightly on the ridge, wind circling her feet like loyal wolves waiting for a command.
The battlefield didn't fall silent—there was always wind, always distant screams—but the dead fell still.
They were waiting.
Listening.
The darkness behind Raiden's father crawled and curled like a living cloak, licking along the edges of his armor. It gathered around him in thick tendrils, drinking the light.
"With respect, King Kaelith," Muir rasped, "this is some absolute gods-damned bullshit."
No one disagreed.
I took a step forward, flames flicking at my fingers.
"Don't," Raiden murmured to me. His voice trembled.
But I couldn't stop watching Kaelith.
I couldn't blink.
Couldn't breathe.
The voices were flooding in—constant whispers in the back of my mind:
There is corruption here.
He is not what he was, little flame.
A velvety smooth voice flowed calm and deep:
"Kagutsuchi is right. This is not the king he once was."
Kagutsuchi's voice snapped sharp and vicious:
"Corrupted. Rotting. He reeks of Mortimer's stain."
A faint, nearly inaudible whisper coiled behind them:
soon…
soon…
And under it all, the weary voice that was quiet but had always been there murmured like the sigh of an old friend:
"Child… do not hesitate. Corruption like this does not heal."
I swallowed hard.
Kaelith wasn't just tainted.
He was claimed.
"Shall we begin the test? Or, Raiden, you could always join me—and this one time I will let your friends walk away," he said.
Revik spat on the ground. "You're insane."
Kaelith didn't even look at him.
"Not insane." Kaelith folded his hands behind his back. "Enlightened."
Raiden took a shaky step forward. The bond thrummed painfully with every beat of his heart.
"What happened to you?"
Kaelith actually smiled.
"A gift," he whispered. "A new purpose. Mortimer showed me truth. Showed me what a king—no, a GOD—must be."
Raiden flinched as if struck.
Muir cursed under his breath. "Of course it's Mortimer. Why wouldn't it be Mortimer? Nothing is ever simple."
Tadewi snarled. "The Darkness God corrupts EVERYTHING he touches."
"Is that what you think this is?" Kaelith asked softly. "Corruption?"
He smiled wider.
"It is clarity."
That was it.
The dead surged forward—
their eyes glowing red.
Muir swore in a language I didn't know.
Revik tightened his grip on his sword.
Tadewi's wind exploded outward in a sphere of pressure.
And Raiden—
Raiden stumbled back a step, horror twisting his features.
"Father—stop!"
Kaelith smiled faintly.
"Let me show you true order."
He closed his fist.
The dead charged.
Everything collapsed.
"MOVE!" Tadewi screamed, unleashing a cyclone that swept dozens of corpses off the ledges.
Lightning tore from Raiden's hands.
Fire and violet radiance erupted from mine.
Muir threw ice spears and knives.
Revik cut through anything that got close.
We fought.
We pushed forward—toward Kaelith, toward the heart of the corruption, toward the only chance we had—
And then the ground split.
A crack tore through the stone under Raiden's feet.
"RAI!" I screamed, reaching for him.
A wave of dead surged between us—hundreds of them—an impossible wall of rotting flesh and shadow.
Raiden was shoved backward, lightning flaring wildly around him.
"LYRA!" he roared, fighting toward me.
I fought toward him.
Muir shouted something—Revik cursed—Tadewi dove—
But the dead kept coming.
A mass of hollow-faced corpses slammed into Raiden, dragging him toward the far side of the terrace. He blasted them apart, but more came, climbing over the bodies of the ones he had already burned.
I pushed fire, water-light, violet shine—everything—through anything in my path.
But the crack widened.
More dead spilled from it like a wound in the earth.
The bond flared bright—terrified—his emotions smashing into me so hard I staggered.
He reached toward me.
I reached toward him.
Our fingertips brushed—
Then the stone under him collapsed entirely.
Raiden disappeared in a fall of debris, dead bodies, and lightning.
"RAI—!" I screamed.
A hand of shadow rose behind the collapsing ledge.
Kaelith.
Watching.
Calm.
Almost serene.
"You cannot save him," he said quietly.
"You cannot save anyone."
The dead swarmed toward me, blotting out the sky.
And Raiden—
was gone.
The earth rumbled beneath my feet when—
A shockwave blasted across the battlefield—dead bodies tumbling, shadows writhing—and then a roar ripped from the chasm so loud it made the sky tremble.
Raiden exploded upward.
Not the man.
The dragon.
Lightning poured off his scales in wild, uncontrolled arcs, scattering the dead like burning leaves. Hundreds of corpses clung to him—digging claws into his wings, his throat, his hindlegs—yet he shook once, violently, and they flew in every direction.
His wings snapped wide, the air shuddering around him.
The moment his claws hit solid stone, he shifted.
Light flared, lightning peeling away from scale to reveal skin. Raiden staggered, breath ragged, but he was alive—bloodied, scorched, exhausted…
And furious.
He strode to my side, jaw clenched, fire burning behind his eyes so bright I felt it through the bond.
The fear.
The hurt.
The resolve.
I didn't grab his hand.
He didn't grab mine.
But we stood close enough that the heat from him brushed my arm, grounding me.
His father watched us with that same patient, hollow amusement. The dead ringed him like an honor guard, motionless, waiting.
The weight of it pressed against my chest—so many lives stolen, held upright by shadow. No peace. Just hunger.
A whisper slid behind my ear—sharp as flint. Kagutsuchi.
"Mortals fear death, little flame. He weaponizes their fear."
A colder whisper threaded between them, thin as spider silk.
"…soon…"
I shivered.
But Raiden stepped forward, planting himself between me and the thing that used to be his father.
"Stay out of my way," the Fire King said, not raising his voice—because he didn't need to. The dead moved with the tilt of his breath, the turn of his wrist.
Raiden's fingers twitched toward his sword.
"You'll have to put me in the ground first."
The Fire King's eyes—once gold—gleamed with corrupted red light. "You think you can stop me?"
"No," Raiden said. "I know I can."
A quiet, humorless sound escaped the king.
Not laughter.
Mockery.
And then his smirk grew wider.
"With what strength, boy?"
He raised one hand.
I didn't feel the dead move.
I heard them.
Bones grinding.
Joints snapping.
Shadow stretching like sinew.
A wall of corpses surged forward—hundreds of them—like a tidal wave made of claw and rot and empty eyes.
They barreled toward Raiden alone.
"RAIDEN—!" I reached for him—
But he had already shifted.
His dragon tore free of him with a scream that cracked the clouds. Black-blue lightning erupted, vaporizing the first rows of dead, hurling dozens more backward.
But there were too many.
They swarmed.
Latched.
Pulled.
Raiden fought like a storm given teeth—wings carving the air, tail sweeping bodies into mist, lightning ravaging everything it touched. But even storms burn out.
And he had nothing left to give.
"Lyra," he shouted through the bond, voice frayed, "GO!"
I didn't.
I couldn't.
Not while he was drowning under the weight of those bodies.
But Tadewi dove from above, wind spiraling from her wings like a vortex, tearing the horde apart by the dozens. Revik and Muir took the ground, carving through anything that slipped past her. They bought Raiden seconds. Just seconds.
Enough for him to gasp through the bond—
"I'll catch up—just go—"
I turned.
And found myself alone.
Facing the Fire King.
He stepped forward—slow, deliberate.
Shadow cloaked his armor. Cracks of molten-red light pulsed beneath the plates, like a volcano caged in steel.
Behind me, Raiden roared—still fighting, still burning, still trying to reach me.
He wouldn't. Not in time.
The Fire King lifted his chin. "So. You're the primal dragon."
I swallowed. "I'm the one who's going to stop you."
He studied me—my violet fire, crackling threads of power still weaving under my skin.
"I see," he chuckled. "You truly are more dangerous than I expected."
The Kagutsuchi's voice snapped in my skull:
"Careful, little flame—he was forged different than Raiden."
The Water voice murmured,
"His soul is tethered to Mortimer now. There is no saving him—only unmaking what he has become."
A fainter whisper slid between them:
"…kill… or be unmade…"
My heart hammered.
The Fire King smiled.
"I warned that you would regret your words."
I tightened my grip on my power.
"And I told you, I regret nothing."
He moved first.
Not fast.
Instant.
His blade of shadows appeared in his hand, carving the air between us with a scream of death.
I lifted my palm—
Violet fire erupted to meet it.
The two forces collided—
Light and shadow—
Fire and corruption—
Strength and fury—
And the world detonated around us.