The boy once called Kail, now a monster called Sin, reclined on his throne of Skal’ai. His shadow-possessed army gazed back at him, zealots with flesh covered in black veins and cold mist. Hope knelt by his side, the creature perhaps the most human of all that stood here. They stood before a massive city crackling with magic, a thousand people in robes standing at the gates. Those people seemed like ants on the horizon, and Sin lazily swept his hand as if he could wipe them away with that motion alone.

Vae Serenis was all that was left of the Shai’mon, all that remained of their precious people. Their other cities were all dust and broken bone, all empty streets filled with corpses. Sin’s lips twisted into a smile as he thought of that insufferable girl, spiting him even as she died. How he wished that she could see him now, with her people on the brink of extinction. He would burn these lands and salt the dirt, curse their bones so that these lands would never birth another Shai’mon. That would be his vengeance for her impertinence.

Why do you delay? His god spoke to him, urged him forward. Slowly, his fingers clenched. These people were mere beasts to be crushed underneath him, but even cornered beasts were to be feared. Even cornered beasts could kill. He knew not what traps awaited him, what desperate plots they had bet their lives upon.

“Forward.” he commanded, his voice whispering like ice through the ranks of his cultists. They rose in concert, ten thousand men suddenly standing like a wave. They marched in unison, ten thousand feet striking the ground with a sound like alien thunder. Ten thousand shadows sprung from their hands, straightening into spears as they prepared to hurl. With Skal’ai inside, these men had unnatural strength and limitless stamina. They could push their flesh to the very precipice without faltering in the slightest. They were tools, machines, weapons in and of themselves. Without a sound, ten thousand spears flew through the air in a deadly rain, every one falling with unerring precision at a defender on the walls.

The Shai’mon had already begun chanting the moment that the zealots were marching, their voices audible on the wind even at this distance. Purple mahji crackled into the air in a terrifying amount, arcing up before hanging with a deliberate pause. At the height of their flight, they suddenly burst into flame, shooting to the ground like arrows. They streaked through the sky like a stream of falling stars, blazing brilliantly.

The two armies traded volleys, the possessed soldiers crumbling whenever they were struck by one of the Shai’mon’s spells. They made no sound, gave no reaction as the Skal’ai inside them slithered out of the vessel of their flesh and retreated back to shadow. For the Shai’mon, they needed not fear the mass of black spears. As the projectiles neared, wards in the air sprang to life. Runes hung in the air, circles of mahji that burned the spears to ash as they flew through. The Shai’mon had won the trade decisively, without a single loss on their side. Sin clenched his teeth in irritation as he leaned forward on his throne.

“Charge.” he seethed coldly, and his army responded immediately. From a march, they changed to a sprint. Shadows pulsed out of their black veins, sliding over their skin until they wore darkness as an armor. They ran at an unholy pace, matching cavalry as their strength was aided by Skal’ai. They came like an unbroken tide, an impossible mass of people streaming towards those too-few defenders.

As his men approached, Sin kept his eyes on the Shai’mon. They were chanting once more, ribbons of mahji sinking into the earth. As their voices rose, the dirt and earth seemed to become slick with water. At the distance, it was hard for Sin to make out what was happening; he could only watch as his men charged forth without hesitation. Yet as they strode on the strange earth, there was nothing. Crackling ice formed, black as the water froze over from black mist and shadow. A faint smile crept on Sin’s face, only to be swept away in the next few moments.

As his army reached the walls, shadows slung out of their arms. Like massive ropes, they shot up the wall, hooking onto stone and occasional flesh before pulling their owners up the wall. Yet the Shai’mon were chanting, tongues of flame shooting at the possessed army. At first Sin sneered, knowing that such a small amount of fire was not enough. Yet he soon realized that they were not aiming at his men, but rather at the ground. At that ice-covered ground.

And then he realized that the ice was not black from the reflections of the Skal’ai, but rather because it was not ice at all. It was frozen oil.

The fire finally caught, spreading in an instant until nearly the whole of his army was caught aflame. The wave of brilliant heat surged through the air, even warming Sin’s face at this distance. His men were in the center of the inferno, their flesh burning into ash. It had been a trap, and he had walked into it like a fool.

Gritting his teeth, Sin stood up and threw his arms wide. His mantle flashed, a sudden wave of frigid air blasting through the battlefield like the wail of tormented spirits. It was a massive gale, strong enough to topple trees and flatten stone walls. As it passed over his army, flame and conflagration was abruptly snuffed out, smoke still curling as the fuel froze over once more. Bits of ash and sloughing flesh became stuck to their bodies by frozen blood, skin cracking from the sudden change in temperature.

Yet that wave continued, slamming into the wards with imposing strength. The mahji crepitated and flickered, resisting briefly before shattering with purple sparks. And the wave surged forward still, into the surprised and weary defenders on the wall. Having used much of their strength already, they were caught off guard by the gale. As it swept over them, their bodies froze and their magic fizzled, ice crackling over their skin in a clear sheen until they were almost statues.

Their state was only for an instant, as many of them fought the frost and began to fight through the ice. Yet that instant was enough; with a wave of his hand, a horde of Skal’ai streamed out of the mouths of his army. The moment that the shadows left, the possessed men crumpled to the ground as if all strength had fled them, the earth thundering as they fell in unison.

The shadows that shot towards the Shai’mon on the wall seemed to blot out the sky, burying themselves into flesh and bone with enough force to knock many of them to the ground. Like worms, they squirmed and wriggled as they ate away at their hapless victims, their shapeless bodies distending as they gorged themselves. Helpless wails rose out into the night, only to be silenced as Sin stamped his foot.

With that single motion, the Skal’ai pulled out with a vicious snap, bearing pulsing lights inside their formless maws. They were like stars in the distance, obscured by the living shadows as they flew closer. Slowly, his servants returned to him, each one bearing a glinting soul. They flew into his palm, into the black gem that he held in his grasp, the night screaming with the desperate pleas of a people that the world could not hear. They were the last of the Shai’mon, the last of their kind. And as he clenched his fist, he smiled. Now, they were no more.

“Look at you. What happened to you, boy?” rang out a tired voice behind him.

Shock gripped his heart, strangled all emotion. He did not reply, the voice of a lifetime ago stopping all other thought. He turned slowly, afraid of what he would see—knowing what he would see. He saw Hope’s charred figure, his general burnt by fire and mahji. He saw Sir standing before him, face twisted in horror, contempt, regret, and determination.

“What is this madness? What are you doing, boy?”

Sin spoke, his voice hollow and thin. “I have had enough of pain. I will see this world of anguish and misery fall before me. My god has promised it to me. I will erase suffering from this world and swallow it in darkness.” The shadows danced behind him, their figures dark as Sin’s eyes. He gazed at his once-protector without expression, his face a mask. “You cannot stop me anymore, old man. You left me, left me alone in that damned hell. You did not save me; now no one can.”

Sir shook his head, wrinkles lining his face as he sighed. “No one can save you anymore, boy, except yourself. Stop this madness while you still can. Kill yourself, and find the peace that you seek.”

Kill the impertinent fool, whispered his god, and his eyes lit with fury. “Even you will oppose me now?”

Sir smiled, a weary, aged smile amidst his wrinkles and sadness. “Not just me.”

“My daughter.”

It was then that Sin noticed another figure behind his old caretaker, a young girl. The same young girl from Vae Derada. The same young girl that had been buried in the rubble. The same young girl that he had left to die. And as their gazes met, she gave a light, mocking grin.

With a sharp breath, Sin felt excited whispers behind him as the Skal’ai coiled behind him, waiting to strike. Yet before he could even give the order, there was a blinding brilliance as Sir plunged his hand into the girl’s chest, revealing a searing light that burned through the flesh. When he withdrew his hand, it was with a sword of blazing fire and stunning light, so bright that it threw back the Skal’ai with its very presence.

The girl coughed up a choking mouthful of blood, falling to her knees with vacant eyes. Yet even as her heart stopped and her body died, that damnable grin did not leave her. She was laughing at him, mocking him in her death.

“I have failed you, boy. Let me fix my mistake.” Sir murmured despondently, brandishing the blade as he ran forward in a flowing motion. Mahji crackled in the air, augmenting his speed until it was almost instantaneous. Yet it was not fast enough.

He saw it. He could see the movement, could see the strike coming. He could have dodged it, easily as breathing. Yet Kail did not move, only stood stock still as the blade drove through his heart. It was a searing heat that threatened to purge him, threatened to burn him into dust from the inside out. He felt as if his soul was being blown away, the protection of his god shielding him no longer.

In the midst of that storm, there was a rope dangled before him. He grasped it on instinct, in a desperate motion, even as his world was burnt away. He grasped it as his flesh was turned to ash, as his vision turned blinding white. He held onto it still, until the storm died away and death still did not close in on him.

Even now you do not die, he heard Sir whisper. Very well, then this shall be your grave. Shall be our grave. There was a hopelessness to his words, a desperate fatigue as he spoke. You were like a son to me; it is fitting that this will be a grave for our family.

Let it be known that this is where the Me’jai Andahiel fell, with his son Kail and his daughter Serafiel. May the world forget these names and the crimes blackening them until the times turn and the earth crumbles to dust. Kail felt the shackles close in around him, around the hand grabbing on so wretchedly to life.

The weight of an eternity fell onto his shoulders. He was to be buried here, here with that girl. He could still see her face, mocking him. Smiling. Laughing. He could still hear her gurgling laugh as she died.

Sin could still hear her laugh as she died, her hand around his throat. A single lifetime was not enough for him to escape it, and now she came for him again in this new one. He could still hear her accursed laugh as fire punched through his neck, as his vision turned blinding white. He could still hear her damnable laugh as she died. Gurgling. Bloody. Desperate.

Mocking.

Mocking him.