The mountains shook.
Snow slid from the peaks in thundering avalanches as the sky cracked open in a wound of light. Kaito shielded his eyes, but the brilliance burned through his lids, searing the world in gold.
Astraea had come.
The sky itself seemed to kneel before her.
She descended wrapped in veils of radiant fire, her wings made of living light, her crown a burning halo that blinded even the dragons. Her beauty was no longer human — it was divine and terrible, sculpted from perfection and sorrow.
Around her fell the Hosts of the Pure Flame — soldiers clad in white armor, their faces hidden behind masks of glass and gold. Their blades shimmered like mirrors, reflecting nothing but the light of their goddess.
And leading them was a figure unlike the rest — tall, silver-eyed, his wings half-burnt, his armor cracked with ancient scars. He walked ahead of the light as if already condemned by it.
Lorien.
"The Fallen Seraph," Yù Lóng growled, lowering her head. "Once her first protector. Now her chained blade."
Kaito gripped his sword. "Then he's our enemy."
"Or our mirror," Yù Lóng murmured. "He carries the same curse as you — light twisted by grief."
---
The armies of Astraea surrounded the valley like a living tide of light.
The surviving dragons — Yù Lóng, the elder Onnix, the twin serpents Rael and Suna — took to the skies, their roars shaking the peaks.
Mira and Lira stood with Kaito at the front, their shadows long against the snow. The cold air was thick with magic — the air before the storm of gods.
Astraea's voice rolled across the mountains, soft as silk, vast as thunder.
> "Graveborn. You hold my flame. Give it back, and I will end your pain."
Kaito looked up. "You ended mercy. You ended him."
Her expression did not change. "I ended weakness. The world burned because dragons chose compassion. I will cleanse it this time — with perfection."
"Perfection?" Mira spat. "You turned mercy into massacre!"
Astraea's gaze flicked to her. "You mortals speak of mercy as though you understand it. Mercy without strength is decay. I offered you eternity."
"And we refused," said Yù Lóng, her voice like thunder. "Because eternity under chains is no life worth keeping."
For a moment, Astraea's calm faltered. Her light flickered — a memory surfacing, of the woman she once was, pleading for life.
Then it was gone.
"Then die as they did," she said coldly. "The age of dragons ends now."
She raised her hand. The sky answered.
---
Blades of light rained from above, piercing stone, snow, and scale. The dragons soared, answering with flame that split clouds in half. The Hosts advanced like a sea of gold, their every step leaving fire.
Kaito charged.
The dragonfire roared through his veins, his sword blazing brighter than ever before. Each swing tore through the armor of the divine soldiers, shattering light into sparks.
Mira danced beside him, her twin daggers cutting through the air like whispers of death. Lira stayed behind, hands glowing, calling runes of protection that shimmered like glass shields around them.
But the enemy was endless. For every one they struck down, ten more fell from the sky.
Above them, Lorien and Yù Lóng clashed.
He wielded a spear of divine light; she met it with her claws of fire. Each strike echoed across mountains, each wound bled gold.
"You were her first!" Yù Lóng roared. "Why serve her still?"
Lorien's face was calm, but his eyes burned with pain. "Because I was her last mistake. I cannot undo what I was made to protect."
"You can choose!"
"I chose long ago — and I lost my wings for it."
He struck, but hesitation cost him. Her tail slammed into him, sending him crashing into the ice below.
---
On the ground, Astraea's light grew brighter. Every moment she stood, her radiance consumed the shadows, the mountains, the air itself.
Kaito stumbled toward her, the ground melting beneath his feet. "You destroyed everything to become a god," he shouted. "But gods don't bleed!"
She turned, her expression unreadable. "I do not bleed, graveborn. You do."
Her hand rose. The light around him tightened like chains. He screamed as fire seared through his chest — not flame of heat, but of purity, trying to burn away the dragon within him.
Yù Lóng roared from above, diving toward them — but Lorien intercepted her again, both crashing into the snow, locked in fury.
Mira tried to reach Kaito, but the light hurled her back. Lira screamed his name, her magic shattering as Astraea's aura crushed the earth around her.
Astraea's hand pressed against his heart. "You were born from grave and flame. But you were never meant to exist."
Kaito gritted his teeth, forcing his hand to his sword. "Then I'll live just to defy you."
He swung — the blade of the last dragon — and for the first time, Astraea flinched.
Her blood — golden and bright — spilled onto the snow. It hissed like acid, burning the earth.
The world froze in silence. Even her armies faltered.
Astraea looked at the wound, then at him. Her expression was not rage — but awe.
"You carry her fire," she whispered. "Soryana's flame… reborn."
And before she could strike again, the sky split open with another roar — a sound that came not from the dragons above, but from beneath the mountains.
The ground trembled, ancient sigils igniting through the ice.
Yù Lóng's eyes widened. "It can't be…"
"What is it?" Kaito gasped.
"The Second Flame," she whispered. "The one Soryana hid — before the end."
The mountains erupted in fire and light. The Hosts screamed. Astraea's wings flared in panic.
And from the heart of the mountain rose a new presence — vast, ancient, neither dragon nor god.
A voice older than time spoke, rumbling through the world:
> "Enough. The cycle ends here."