Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance

I was on my knees, blade buried in the ashes of Caelum’s ruin. His body had not fallen; it had simply unraveled, pulled apart by the same chaos he’d once wielded. I had not emerged untouched. My hands were scorched. My ribs ached like they were shattered. Blood—divine, tainted, ancient—dripped from my jaw.

But I was alive.

Barely.

"I did it," I rasped, though no one stood near enough to hear.

Or so I thought.

A whisper drifted from the blackened edge of the realm. Not in words. In sensation. A cold knowing. Like something exhaling behind the veil.

Then I heard it.

A name.

Not screamed. Not spoken.

Breathed.

Athena.

I staggered upright, my sword grating against broken stone as I pulled it free. My shadow moved oddly too fluid, too detached and I realized with a chill that it no longer belonged solely to me.