Epilogue
A full week had crawled past, yet the chamber still stank of his humiliation.
The heart of The Abyss, once a terrifying testament to Leviathan’s supreme authority, was a hollowed-out carcass.
The heavy stone walls were deeply cracked, weeping dark fluid where the structural integrity of the mountain had failed.
The silver binding pillars, forged to withstand the thrashing of lesser gods, hung in melted, twisted ribbons like frozen, metallic tears.
Strips of Sydney and Kara's devastating Enchantment had left blinding white scorch marks across the obsidian floor, a permanent, blinding brand of White Dragon Magic slicing right through his sacred darkness.
At the center of the ruin lay the physical proof of his failure.
Garrett’s blood was caked thick and deep crimson and gray against the base of the broken central pillar.
A few feet away, tossed carelessly onto the ash, was the heavy iron and silver spike Leviathan had personally driven through the Guardsman's shoulder to lock him to the pain.
It was bent, discarded, and utterly useless.
Leviathan stared at the spike, and the volatile rage he had suppressed for seven days finally ruptured.
He screamed, the cacophonous discord shattering the remaining glass-smooth stones across the chamber floor.
Spinning in complete circles, he unleashed a torrent of pure, unadulterated Hellfire from his palms. The dark crimson and ebony blast tore into the far wall, obliterating a massive archway into a cloud of choking black dust and falling boulders.
He kicked the silver and iron spike, sending it whistling through the air until it embedded itself deep into the cracked stone ceiling.
Panting, his chest heaving, his claws dug into his own palms until dark, acidic blood welled. The Special One had breached his domain. She had walked into the Dark, shattered his bindings, and ripped his greatest prize straight out from under his hand.
Leviathan had been mocked. Defeated. Left behind in his own broken house.
He raised a hand to blast another pillar, desperate to bring the entire ceiling down on his own head. He longed to feel the crushing weight of it…
Then, his hand froze.
The Hellfire dying in his palms cast a faint, flickering light across the central pillar. In the sudden quiet following his outburst, something caught his attention. It wasn't the blood. It wasn't the white burn marks.
It was a microscopic glitch in the ambient energy of the room, vibrating against the back of his mind like a plucked string.
The violent echo of falling stone slowly died away, leaving only the sound of Leviathan’s ragged breathing. He stood frozen, his hand still half-raised toward the column he intended to pulverize.
The heat in his veins vanished, replaced by an abrupt, unnatural chill.
Slowly, his hand lowered to his side. The frantic heaving of his chest subsided, smoothing out into long, measured breaths.
The wild, chaotic dark energy that usually danced across his skin shrank back into his flesh, extinguished completely.
The sudden plummet of his temperature sent a thin wisp of vapor rising from his shoulders.
The mindless fury was gone, drained away as if someone had pulled a plug in his soul.
He didn't look at the shattered walls or the ceiling he had just ruined. His eyes were locked entirely on the base of the broken central pillar.
Leviathan moved forward. The heavy, world-shaking strides of an enraged Demon Lord were replaced by a silent, predatory glide. He closed the distance between himself and the structural stump, his gaze tracking a specific, jagged smear.
It was the almost black, dried crust of Garrett’s blood. But it wasn't pure. Sliced directly through the dark stain was a faint, iridescent smudge, the residual psychic essence left behind when Aodhan had violently blasted Leviathan out of their combined psyche.
Dropping into a low, deliberate crouch, he extended his right hand, his long claws retracting just enough to expose the pads of his fingers. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed his index and middle fingers directly into the center of the stained stone.
His eyes slowly slid shut.
For several seconds, the chamber was dead silent.
Then, Leviathan’s head tilted slightly to the left.
The sharp lines of his brow rose in a sudden, quiet arc of realization.
Beneath his resting hand, the tips of his fingers gave a sharp, involuntary twitch, as if catching a current of static electricity.
His eyes remained shut, but the hard, tense angles of his jaw relaxed completely.
Leviathan smiled.
With his fingers still pressed against the stained stone, his smile deepened as the pieces clicked together in the dark.
He was not a fool who pretended his failures were a grand design. He had not engineered this outcome. He had most assuredly not planned for Sydney to breach the Veil and rescue his prize, nor had he deliberately allowed Garrett to slip through his fingers.
He had lost. He had been blindsided, humiliated, and beaten inside his own house, and the bitter sting of that defeat still burned in the back of his throat.
But as the microscopic residue on the pillar vibrated against his skin, he realized their victory was full of holes. His enemies believed the ledger had been wiped clean when the portal closed. They believed his defeat was complete.
They were wrong.
Leviathan opened his eyes. He stared at the caked, dark blood beneath his hand. He thought of the years Garrett had spent chained in the Darkness. He thought of the relentless torture, the suffocating clouds of Chimera ash, and the heavy weight of Anti-Magic that had crushed the man's spirit.
He thought of the endless, agonizing psychic invasions… of the countless times he had forced his way past Garrett's mental barriers, tearing through his thoughts, his memories, his very identity.
So many years. So many wounds. So many times his Sorcery had touched the Dragon's mind, blood, bones... soul. And they believed a portal could simply carry the Guardsman away from all of it.
Leviathan pulled his hand back. Standing slowly, he looked out over the broken peaks of his Realm. The anger was entirely gone now, replaced by a cold, radiating hunger.
Perhaps Garrett had taken more from The Abyss than anyone realized.
His thoughts shifted, drifting away from the Guardsman and onto the woman who had pulled the strings to free him.
Sydney.
He despised her. She had marched into his kingdom, shattered his supreme authority, and handed him his greatest defeat.
Yet, beneath the blistering heat of his hatred, a dark fascination lingered.
Her Magic was a magnificent, terrifying thing.
But like all grand forces, it possessed a singular, catastrophic flaw.
The Special One's greatest strength was also her only weakness. Her Mate.
Leviathan tilted his head back, staring up at the silver and iron spike embedded in the ceiling.
In his mind's eye, he could see exactly what Sydney was doing at this very moment in the Earthly Realm. She would be hovering. She would be watching Garrett’s every breath, healing his lingering physical wounds, and wrapping him in her protective Magic.
She would refuse to let him get more than ten feet away from her side.
A low, dry chuckle escaped his throat, echoing off the cracked obsidian.
She would be so careful. She would search her Mate from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, scanning his aura for any lingering trace of Hellfire or Demonic curses. She would spend as much time as she had to, dissecting every inch of his soul to ensure he was clean.
And when she found nothing… she would believe she had saved him.
Leviathan stood at his full height, towering amidst the wreckage of his sanctuary.
Utter quiet filled the chamber. He looked around at the shattered walls, the weeping stone, and the melted silver pooling on the floorboards.
The visual proof of his defeat no longer bothered him.
The sting of humiliation had completely evaporated, replaced by the cold, infinite patience of an immortal who had just discovered the long game was far from over.
He turned his back on the ruined central pillar and began to walk away, his steps slow and unhurried.
“Let them celebrate.” The corner of his thin, bloodless lips curved upward. “Let Garrett go home to his sunlit world. Let him breathe the fresh, clean air of a life he thought he had reclaimed. Let him sleep in a warm bed, untouched by the phantom terrors of the Dark.”
His smile widened. “Let Sydney hold him close, believing her love had erected an unbreakable wall around his soul. Let those stupid Dragons welcome their lost Guardsman back with open arms and raised glasses. Let Aodhan bask in the arrogant satisfaction that his pure White Magic had successfully shielded them both from the Darkness.”
Reaching the threshold of the chamber, Leviathan paused one last time before stepping out into the wider expanse of The Abyss. He did not look back.
Simply sighed blissfully, “Let them believe they won.”