The air thickened with the stench of burning metal and sulfur. The sky bled crimson as the Rift above Grey Bastion pulsed wider, like a wound that refused to close.Valric hovered above the battlefield, cloaked in radiant voidfire. His voice rolled like thunder.“Tell me, Father… how do you protect a world that rejected me?”Brown stood amidst the chaos, sword lowered, eyes locked on his son. His armor was cracked, his hands trembling. Around him, the Knights of Verdance fought valiantly—outnumbered, outmatched. But it wasn’t the demons or the death that haunted him.It was Valric.It was the memory of a boy with a curious smile, who used to reach out for his father’s hand. A hand Brown had failed to hold onto.“You were never rejected,” Brown said hoarsely, his voice nearly lost in the roar of battle. “You were taken. Twisted by pain I should’ve borne with you.”Valric’s eyes narrowed. “And now you think one confession washes the blood from your hands?”<

Brown staggered slightly as Valric's energy surged around them—a storm of broken memories and misplaced wrath. His fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of what stood before him: not just a powerful foe, but his own blood twisted by time and pain.Valric’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you hesitate? Isn’t this what you’ve trained for—what you swore to the High Circle? That if ever the world was threatened, you’d strike down the danger?”Brown clenched his jaw. “You are not the danger. You are the consequence.”Valric sneered. “You blame the world, but not yourself? Tell me, where were you when the flames devoured my childhood? When the darkness offered me comfort, while the light turned its back?”Brown looked away for the briefest moment—and that was enough.Valric seized it. “You can’t even look at me,” he spat. “You can face monsters, kings, gods—but not the ruin of your own son!”Lightning cracked above them, a reflection of the storm inside Brown. The old warri

Weeks had passed since the skies last bled fire.The ruins of Myrneth now rang not with the clash of battle, but with the steady rhythm of hammers and laughter—builders, farmers, and children filling the scarred land with the sound of hope.From the tower that once overlooked the battlefield, Clara watched a sapling grow between two cracked stones. It had taken root in the ash.“Life always finds a way,” Kael murmured beside her, adjusting the fresh binding on his shoulder. “Even after death dances through the fields.”Clara smiled faintly. “Or maybe... because of it.”Down in the valley, Valric stood alone.His armor was gone, replaced with simple robes the color of dusk. His once-fiery eyes now held a soft, reflective glow. He watched the people rebuild the temple he once nearly razed to the ground.A child tugged on his sleeve. “Sir? Is it true you used to fly?”Valric crouched to meet his eyes. “Yes. But sometimes walking teaches you more.”The boy grinned. “Will you teach me to f