Chapter 68
Rune
Rune had lost hold of the world.
Vorak’s claws cleaved through his chest, hellfire searing scale and flesh. His wings tore beneath the force. Ash swallowed the crimson sky as he plunged through the smoke.
Alora’s scream rang through his bones.
His impact split the earth, shockwaves rolling across the land. Rune drew in ragged gasps. His beast form had taken the brunt of the crash. But he had no strength to hold it anymore. His vision swam, every sound distant, muffled, as though he were trapped deep beneath water.
The pain was crushing.
It hurt to breathe.
“Rune!” Alora’s cry pierced the haze, dragging him back.
She knelt at his side, her hands cupping his face. When had he shifted back? Somewhere between the fall and the agony, the beast had fled him.
He tried to sit, but his body refused. Claws had torn him open. His torso smoked and burned, his wings lay torn, bones splintered. He could not heal.
Not against dark forces of the Abyss.
“Rune.” A beautiful, teary face blurred in his vision. “Oh, please, can you hear me? You need to stand.”
He tried, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. His armor hung in tatters, his chest drenched in blood, his shadows flickering like dying embers.
Behind Alora, the world burned. His army had scattered, mortals fled, their screams rising like smoke. The ground split open, rivers of molten earth spilling like torn veins. The Wild Hunt breached Argyle’s gates.
Vorak moved like a force of death.
Soldiers and demons were crushed like ants beneath his heel. Fae dissolved like paper in flame. He demolished Argyle’s towers with a flick of his hand.
Alora sobbed, pressing her magic into Rune’s wounds, but the blood only spread faster. “He showed me this…” Her voice shook. “Oh, gods, there is no stopping him, is there? It’s impossible.”
Perhaps he had always known it would end this way.
Every major battle Rune fought had ended in loss. Whether through oversight, betrayal, or the curse he carried from his first breath. He looked up at the rolling sky, wondering why fate had brought him here.
Why had he been birthed from a star, only to be cast into darkness?
Rune coughed on his blood, a bitter smirk curving his lips. It really was a lost war from the beginning. No matter his Seraph strength, he couldn’t defeat Vorak. Not even the Heavens could destroy a Primordial… without another to fill the void.
Rune’s mind went silent as realization struck.
“Nothing is impossible.” Rune whispered.
“What?”
Then he laughed, the sound caught between shock and madness. Elyōn…truly had been playing his own game. Rune had often wondered why he was made. Why had the shadows chosen him if he were not a trueborn god?
Because this had always been his path.
To surrender his will completely and serve as Elyōn’s weapon when the time came.
“A god cannot kill a god,” Rune breathed as he met Alora’s wide eyes. “And only a god can create his own undoing.” He brushed her cheek with trembling fingers. “You are the Devourer’s creation, Alora. A semblance of his essence.”
She went still as understanding settled in her eyes.
“The only way to contend with Vorak’s power was to take it all.” Rune looked up at the storming skies. “And I will serve as the final strike…”
Thunder rolled, the force of it vibrating down to his soul.
“Rune, no.” She shook, her voice wild with sorrow and fear. “You will die!”
He already was.
His life was draining with every beat of his heart. Perhaps he always knew it would end like this.
Villains didn’t get happy endings.
Alora’s chest heaved with a sob. “Please don’t leave me.”
The plea broke him.
Rune pulled her to him and kissed her. She clutched him desperately, her tears on his lips. He kissed her as he committed the shape of her mouth to memory, the last truth he would ever carry. For a moment, the world dispelled, leaving them in a pocket of silence.
The bond trembled between them, stretched thin, already fraying at the edges. He held it gently, like a thread he refused to snap too soon.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
“This is why we came back,” Rune whispered. “To balance the scales.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You rewrote our fate with a song, Alora. There is nothing you cannot do. Take all that you are and let your might devour.”
It took all his will to let her go as he staggered to his feet.
Her soft weeping followed as he walked away, his cloak snapping in the wind.
Rune drew the Sunstone sword, and the orange blade changed before his eyes. A surge of energy washed through him as the blade spiraled vibrant blue, wreathed in Seraph flame. Divine blessings only born of sacrifice.
Rune stood before the vortex of black wind, breathing in and out.
But he couldn’t help looking back at his mate. His heart shook as he memorized her face with a soft smile.
“Sing for me, ra’ayati. One last time.”
Her chest broke with a sob.
And Rune ran toward the storm.
Alora’s voice lifted, softly at first, weaving through the air like golden thread. It was song and spell both, her gift made divine. The melody carried power, carried over the land as all went silent. Alora shone behind him, radiant as dawn, her voice rising until the red skies lightened.
His pace increased to a sprint, each step splitting the earth. Seraph fire ignited around him, giving him speed.
Vorak turned when Alora’s song carried over the wind. The tempest began to dissipate, tendrils peeling away from him as they were consumed by his daughter.
His enraged voice shook the skies. “Lashar, you dare use my own power against me!”
Alora’s voice rose in crescendo, absorbing Vorak’s storm, and every strand of his power. His angry snarls turned to shock as his destructive form withered down layer by layer until he was reduced to a man with his essence glowing at his heart.
Rune launched skyward, riding the sound of her song, his wings snapping open. At the height of his leap, he lifted the blade.
The blue fire shone in his eyes, reminding him who he had always been.
A son shaped like a weapon.
Meant to end something worse than himself.
Rune descended like a falling star, his roar shaking the cosmos, her song entwined with his defiance. With a force that shook the Heavens, he plunged the sword into Vorak’s chest.
The skies split with thunder.
Lightning crashed down, a pillar of white that seared through Rune into the blade.
The explosion tore the sky asunder.
Vorak screamed, the sound rending the world as light streamed through the fissures splitting his colossal form. Shadow bled from him like smoke, ripped apart by fire. The light consumed them both.
For an instant, there was no pain.
Only the peace of purpose fulfilled.
Then once again, Rune fell from grace.