Chapter 40 Finn
Finn
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t fucking joke.
The God of Chaos stands twenty feet away, and my magic is screaming inside my skull like it’s trying to claw its way out of my body. Every instinct I have — every survival mechanism, every defense I’ve built — is just… gone.
There’s nothing funny about this.
There’s nothing funny about him.
He’s still looking at Kaia. Those ancient eyes fixed on her face like she’s the only thing in this entire godforsaken plateau that matters.
He’s looking at the one he’s about to destroy.
The thought slams through me, and I want to move. Want to throw myself between them. Want to do something other than stand here with my chaos magic writhing uselessly around my fingers.
But I can’t.
None of us can.
The God’s presence is a weight. A pressure. Like standing at the bottom of an ocean that’s also the sky. Like being crushed and expanded at the same time.
“My lord.” Alekir’s voice cracks through the silence — reverent, trembling, desperate. “At last. After all these centuries of waiting, of preparing, of holding your purpose sacred—”
The God turns.
Slowly. Deliberately. Like time itself is bending around the motion.
And when those endless eyes fix on Alekir, the soulbinder actually flinches.
“You speak of purpose.” The God’s voice is quiet. Gentle, almost. But it resonates through my bones like thunder. “Tell me what you believe my purpose to be.”
Alekir straightens. Tries to. His form flickers — smoke and malice struggling to hold shape under that gaze.
“Destruction,” he says. “The end of what was stolen. The Valkyries sealed you away. Built their precious Absentia on your bones. Fractured the natural cycle and called it balance.” His voice rises, gaining confidence.
“I freed you. I corrupted their bloodlines, broke their seals, twisted their legacy into the key that would—”
“No.”
One word. But the weight of it makes the plateau tremble.
“You understand nothing of what I am.”
Alekir goes silent.
“I am not destruction.” The God takes a step forward, and reality bends around him. “I am transition. The threshold between what was and what will be. The guardian of the space between life and death.”
Another step.
“The Valkyries did not steal from me. They partnered with me. Guided souls through my domain. Maintained the cycle I was created to protect.”
Alekir’s form wavers. “No. No, the prophecies said—”
“Your prophecies were lies you told yourself.” The God’s voice doesn’t rise. Doesn’t need to. “You slaughtered the Valkyries. Corrupted their souls. Trapped them in forms of shadow and hunger. You broke the threshold I was meant to guard and called it liberation.”
I watch Alekir try to speak. Try to argue. Try to do anything other than stand there while centuries of delusion crumble around him.
“The berserkers who protected them,” the God continues. “The bloodlines that maintained balance. The souls that should have passed through my domain — all of them twisted. Trapped. Suffering. Because you wanted revenge for a crime that never occurred.”
“I was betrayed—”
“You were wrong.”
The God raises one hand.
Just one.
And Alekir — the ancient soulbinder, the monster who destroyed the Valkyries, the nightmare that’s haunted Kaia since before she was born —
Alekir screams.
It’s not dramatic. Not drawn out. Not the theatrical death of a villain who gets to monologue his way into oblivion.
It’s just… done.
One moment he’s there — smoke and malice and centuries of hatred given form.
The next, he’s gone.
Consumed by the very chaos he tried to unleash.
The plateau goes silent.
For one heartbeat, I think it’s over. Think we might actually survive this. Think maybe—
“NO!”
Lady Virath’s corrupted light blazes as she throws herself forward. Her hollow eyes are wild, desperate, her perfect composure shattered into something feral and afraid.
“You can’t— the ritual— the alignment is complete—”
She whirls toward Kaia, hands raised, magic building—
“The Valkyrie corrupted the cycle! She’s the one who—”
The God doesn’t even look at her.
One gesture.
Not violent. Not cruel.
Just… dismissive.
Lady Virath’s scream cuts off mid-breath. Her corrupted light flickers once — twice —
And then she’s gone.
Same as Alekir.
Same as the Nightwraiths still circling overhead.
I watch them dissolve. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Shrieking as they scatter, as they try to flee, as the God’s presence simply… erases them.
Like they never existed.
Like none of this ever happened.
The plateau falls silent.
Really silent.
No Alekir. No Lady Virath. No Nightwraiths. No army of corrupted souls waiting to tear us apart.
Just us.
Kaia — still hovering, wings spread, power radiating from her like heat from a star.
The six of us — frozen in our positions, bonds still blazing, magic still connected.
The God — standing before the open Gate, reality bending around him like water around a stone.
And the wind.
That’s it.
That’s all that’s left.
I should feel relief. Should feel triumph. Should feel something other than this crawling dread that won’t stop building in my chest.
Because the God is turning again.
Slowly.
Toward Kaia.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—
He’s not done.
He destroyed Alekir for corrupting the cycle. Destroyed Lady Virath for serving him. Destroyed the Nightwraiths for existing.
And now he’s looking at the Valkyrie who just ripped open the Gate he was sealed behind.
Everyone tenses. I feel it through the bonds — Torric’s fury, Aspen’s desperate calculation, Malrik’s shadow magic coiling like it’s ready to strike, Darian’s light blazing brighter, Kieran’s dragon form shifting to put himself between Kaia and—
The God stops.
Not threatening.
Not attacking.
Just… waiting.
Looking at her with those ancient, endless eyes.
And then—
I hear it.
Behind me.
A sound.
Soft. Wrong. Familiar.
Like whispers made of shadow. Like movement without motion. Like a thousand things breathing at once.
Every hair on my body stands up.
I turn.
Slowly.
Terrified of what I’m going to see.
And my heart stops.
They’re everywhere.
Shadows.
Just there.
Filling the plateau behind us. Spreading across the snow like spilled ink. Rising from the ground, from the rocks, from the very air itself.
Walter hovers at the front, pulsing with that strange purple light. Mouse stands beside him — panther-sized, violet eyes gleaming. Bob’s form is massive, sharp-edged, flanked by shadows I don’t recognize.
Shadows that look like Bob.
Shadows that look like Valkyries.
And behind them—
Thousands.
Hundreds of thousands.
So many they block out what’s left of the daylight. So many I can’t see where they end. So many that the weight of their presence makes my chaos magic whimper and go quiet.
They’re not looking at the God.
They’re looking at her.
I move without thinking. Slow. Quiet. Careful, like any sound might shatter whatever fragile balance is holding this moment together.
Kaia is still facing the God. Still hovering. Still radiating power like she’s become something more than human.
She doesn’t see them.
She doesn’t know.
I reach up — her wings are too high, but her hand is close enough — and my fingers close around her wrist.
Gentle.
Trembling.
She looks down at me. Violet eyes blazing with power I don’t understand.
I pull her down, she lets me. I lean in.
Right at her ear.
“Kaia.”
My voice is barely a whisper.
“Look.”