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The guilt that flashed across Aster’s face lasted only a second before he straightened, as though accepting the blame would have to wait until after the truth had been spoken. “And she saved every single one of us.”

Atlas’s gaze flicked back to him, sharp with disbelief.

“What?”

Aster shook his head, still sounding as though he could barely believe it himself.

“She won us the war, Atlas.”

I looked up at Atlas, waiting for some sort of reaction. His gaze shifted from Aster to me and then back again. For perhaps the first time since I had met him, he genuinely seemed at a loss for words. Disbelief lingered in his eyes, tangled with confusion and something else I couldn’t quite identify. As though he was trying to reconcile the woman he had left behind on Earth with the one now standing before him.

After everything we had endured, after the impossible journey through the Rift, the Labyrinth, the Badlands, and the battlefield, it was somehow that statement which left him speechless.

Eventually, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.

“I think there is a lot we need to discuss.”

Damn straight, as no truer words had ever been said, although that didn’t mean that I was looking forward to that conversation. In fact, I was flat out dreading it.

However, before either of us could respond, a dull thud sounded behind us.

Lazaros had faltered.

One hand struck the stone floor as he fought to keep himself upright, the other still pressed tightly against the wound at his throat. Pain contorted his features, and whatever strength had been sustaining him finally seemed to give way. Watching him, it became painfully clear that shock and adrenaline had carried him this far and no further. The reality of what had happened was only just beginning to settle over him, and now that the possession was gone, his body was demanding payment for everything it had endured.

Atlas moved instantly.

“First, I need to tend to my brother, then we will talk.”

There was no hesitation in him as he dropped to Lazaros’s side. Whatever anger remained between them had been pushed aside by the sight of his brother collapsing before him. Aster moved to help, crouching beside them before carefully lifting Lazaros and taking part of his weight. Together they guided him back towards the throne room, and I followed a few steps behind, but before the doors could close, I found myself turning back one last time.

The battlefield stretched before me beneath a sky that seemed impossibly bright after everything that had happened. Soldiers still celebrated amongst the ruins, their cheers drifting across the wind as life continued to reclaim the scars left behind by the darkness.

Yet instead of feeling their joy, unease settled heavily in my stomach.

This wasn’t my world. It was a world I barely understood, a world that had very nearly been lost, yet my thoughts drifted beyond it all, across realms and oceans, back towards Earth.

Had the darkness truly been destroyed, or had it simply retreated? Had it slipped back through the Rift to continue spreading where nobody could see it?

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unfinished. Demetrios had escaped. The darkness had proven itself patient.

Clever.

Persistent.

Even now, with sunlight spilling across the battlefield and celebration echoing through the air, I couldn’t rid myself of the certainty that this wasn’t the end.

No, if anything, this only felt more like the calm that came before another storm. The question was…

Would we all survive the darkness a second time?

Ifollowed them through the palace in silence, my footsteps echoing softly across the polished stone floors as soldiers and servants hurried aside to clear a path. Their expressions shifted between confusion, relief, and disbelief as they caught sight of the three figures ahead of me. Atlas and Aster supported Lazaros between them, half carrying him through the corridors as though the weight of everything that had happened had finally settled upon his shoulders.

Lazaros barely seemed aware of his surroundings. His head remained bowed, his movements sluggish and unsteady as he stumbled forward. Whatever strength had sustained him until now appeared to have deserted him completely, leaving behind only the crushing burden of everything he believed he had done. Whether those deaths truly belonged to him or not, no longer seemed to matter. The guilt had already taken root.

Ahead of me, Atlas murmured something quietly to Aster before slowing his pace. Aster shifted his grip, taking more of Lazaros’s weight onto himself, and continued towards the far side of the throne room while Atlas came to an abrupt stop. A heartbeat later, he turned.

The moment his eyes found me, something in his expression softened.