The Sky Abyss did not heal.
Even after Sereth's presence faded, the air remained wounded—thin, trembling, stretched too far. The circular expanse where the shadow had spoken still pulsed faintly, like a scar that refused to close.
Kael felt it with every breath.
The dragon inside him was restless again, pacing like a caged storm. Not raging—anticipating.
Lira helped Kael sit upright against a fractured slab of stone. Her hands were steady now, though her face still carried the echo of fear she refused to give power to.
"You don't get to face that alone again," she said quietly. Not a request. A decision.
Kael met her gaze. "I know."
Maelor stood at the edge of the island, staring into the damaged sky. His staff was planted deep into the stone, both hands resting on its head as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored to the world.
"The tear is widening," he said. "Sereth didn't come to fight. He came to mark this place."
Saryn's jaw tightened. "Then seal it."
Maelor did not turn. "It doesn't work that way."
The wind surged suddenly, spiraling inward again. Not violently—but insistently. The same pressure returned, weaker than before, but spreading. Threads of dark distortion crept along the air like fractures in glass.
Lira stood. "If it keeps spreading—"
"It will become a doorway," Maelor finished. "One that does not close."
Kael pushed himself to his feet despite the ache screaming through his bones. "Then tell me what to do."
Maelor finally turned.
For the first time, he looked old.
Not weathered. Not weary.
Old in the way mountains are old—because they have watched too many endings.
"There is something I have not told you," he said.
Kael stiffened. "You've said that before."
Maelor gave a faint, humorless smile. "And each time, I told myself I was protecting you."
Lira stepped closer, unease crawling up her spine. "Maelor…"
"The Sky Abyss does not answer force," Maelor continued. "It answers balance. Sacrifice. A presence strong enough to anchor what is tearing apart."
Saryn's eyes widened slightly. "No."
Maelor ignored him.
"There are only three things here capable of doing that," he said calmly. "The Silver Dragon's heir. The Eclipse-bearer. And me."
Kael's breath caught. "Absolutely not."
Maelor met his eyes. "You are not ready."
"I don't care," Kael snapped. "I won't let you—"
"You will," Maelor said sharply. Then, softer, "Because if you try, you will die. And the world will follow."
The wind screamed.
The tear in the sky flared brighter, widening by inches.
Lira shook her head. "There has to be another way."
Maelor reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You have already given more than you know."
He turned back to Kael.
"I did not guide you to save this world alone," he said. "I guided you so you could survive what comes after it."
Kael's voice broke. "You're talking like you're already gone."
Maelor smiled—genuine this time. Warm. Proud.
"I have lived long enough to see the Silver Dragon rise again," he said. "That is more than I ever hoped for."
Before anyone could stop him, Maelor stepped forward.
The air bent around him.
Ancient runes ignited along his staff, spiraling upward like living script. The floating island trembled violently as the wind rushed inward, drawn toward him.
Saryn lunged. "Maelor—don't!"
Too late.
Maelor lifted his staff and struck the air itself.
Light exploded outward—not blinding, but deep and resonant, like the sound of a bell struck at the center of the world. The tear in the sky convulsed, pulling violently toward him.
Kael screamed his name.
Maelor did not look back.
His body began to dissolve—not into ash, not into light, but into presence. Memory. Will. Everything he was unraveled and flowed upward, threading itself into the wound in the sky.
The wind howled in agony.
Then—
Silence.
The tear sealed.
The Sky Abyss shuddered once… and stilled.
The floating islands settled into slow, steady drift. The pressure vanished. The sky cleared, pale and endless once more.
Kael dropped to his knees.
"No," he whispered. "No—no—"
Lira knelt beside him, pulling him close as his silver flame flickered wildly, grief and rage twisting together inside him. She held him as tightly as she could, even as her own eyes burned.
Saryn stood frozen, head bowed.
Moments passed.
Then the wind moved again.
Not violently.
Gently.
A familiar warmth brushed past Kael's cheek—like a hand ruffling his hair.
Not a voice.
Not words.
But approval.
Kael looked up, tears streaking down his face.
"I'll finish it," he said softly. "I swear."
The Sky Abyss did not answer.
But somewhere deep within it, something listened.
And remembered.