Elora screamed, the pain in her abdomen forgotten. Nyal was dead, bleeding out on the stones of a courtyard so far from his home. She had been powerless to stop it, weak from years of not having to fight.

Giazma stood over the Healer's limp body, a rumble of laughter coming from his throat. He poked at the body, watching it roll over lifelessly. He looked back at her and she could see the pride in his eyes. "I told you I would kill him, Elora," he growled. "You should have taken me seriously."

Nyal was dead. Their one chance was gone. Veridun was gone. Maheem and Planina would fall. Nyal was dead.

She stood, tears falling freely down her face and gathered her magic in one last attempt at showing Gaizma just who he was fighting. Nyal was dead, Gaizma had killed him. Gaizma would face her wrath. She would kill him.

Gaizma roared with laughter, turning to face her. "Look at you, so angry," he said. "I don't think I've seen you look like that since I've come out of the Gate. Come on, demigod, kill me."

She screamed and rushed forward, tendrils of darkness shooting out towards him. He snarled, swiping out at her with his tail. She spread her wings and launched herself into the air. Darkness rained down on the dragon, making him cry out in pain. There was blood seeping from small wounds all along his body. If she targeted those, she could kill him.

She felt power rush inside of her, more than she had felt in years. With a grunt she pushed that power out, aiming it all at the dragon. He had killed Nyal. The more she thought the words the angrier she got, the stronger she got. She was going to kill him, rip him limb from limb and throw him from the mountain.

Her bombardment wasn't just striking Gaizma, but every Zlohiel in the vicinity. A cacophony of screams reached her ears, wails of wendigos, cries of vampires as they were impaled and eviscerated.

Her own scream joined them as the power continued to flow within her, more power than she had ever felt in her life. She channelled it, channelled her anger and aimed it at the Zlohiel standing down below.

She could see Gaizma lying among the stones and blood, body jolting with each hit, but he still stared up at her, eyes full of amusement. She would wipe that joy from his face. "So angry!" he screamed at her, laughing as she struck him. "Who knew killing one little warlock could affect you so, Elora!"

At his words, the power within her only grew, spreading out past just Maheem and into the mountains. The Zlohiel still making their way into the falling city were struck down with screams of agony, writhing on the ground. But it wasn't enough, Gaizma still wasn't dead, the Zlohiel were still coming, still taking over the realm.

She opened herself up to the power, knowing that whatever she did wasn't going to be enough, but it might just save the tiny remains of the kingdom in the mountains. The magic flowed from her hands, striking the dragons that threatened to kill Ragen and Mikhail, eviscerating the wendigos and vampires as they reached the stronghold the citizens were hidden in. Her darkness crawled into caves and down trails, killing anything it touched, but it still wasn't enough.

Elora.

The voice ricocheted around her mind as her fathers did, but it was not Yararanje. She ignored it, closing her eyes and letting out another scream as more power flooded her body.

Elora, please. Let me help.

She opened her eyes with a gasp. Nyal stood in the air before her, concern covering his youthful face. If she looked close enough, she could see the buildings of Maheem through his body. His spirit.

Nyal reached out of her. Please, he said, mouth making no movements but his voice still clear as day in her mind. His palm touched her face, but she could barely feel it, like a cool breeze. I can help. This is our chance.

He grabbed her hand, this touch feeling more real than the last. She felt his power join her, letting out a gasp at the almost painful feeling. Their magic joined together as one, their hands clasped tightly in the air. The darkness and the water spread past Maheem, past the mountains of Planina, past the forest and ocean and the desert, all the way to the Fiume River and beyond, killing all Zlohiel in its path.

She could see it as it moved, watched every death with the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She gasped in relief as she watched them wither and die with screams of anguish, saw the bodies litter the ground of a once beautiful realm. The serpents and sirens in the water bobbed to the surface, lifeless and pale.

Together, she and Nyal purged the realm of Zlohiel, hand in hand, powers joined as one. They'd had one chance, and they'd taken it.

As the power faded from her being, the darkness began to recede back into her, the water fading from the mix. She felt Nyal's grip loosen, felt him pull away from her. She turned to the side, eyes wide. "No, Nyal, please," she cried, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "You can't go."

This is not my choice, he told her, tears welling in his own eyes. If I could, I'd stay. I want to stay, so badly.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I should have-"

It's okay, Nyal said, smiling at her, his hand pulling further from her grasp. He began to drift away, his body becoming paler and his voice softening in her mind. It's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself. I'm going to be happy.

He drifted away as the last of the darkness swam back to her. With a gasp, she dropped to the ground, wings and legs crumpling beneath her. Gaizma was there, lifeless eyes staring at her in wonder and fear. She had finally wiped the joy from his face, but at what cost?

She pressed her hand to her abdomen, finding the skin there perfect and uninjured. Nyal had healed her when they joined together. She scrambled on her knees, moving past Gaizma to where Nyal's torn body lay. She grasped at him, pulling him up onto her knees. There was so much blood, the gashes in his body marring what once way.

She cried out, sobs wracking her body as she rocked with him, arms wrapping around him. It wasn't fair. She had put so much effort into saving the realm so that he would live and be happy, and Gaizma had taken it all from her. The swift death he had been given was not justice enough.

She had thought when Yararanje had said it that only they could save the realm that Nyal would live through the battle. He'd had to die for them to win. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve such treatment, not after everything he had been through to try and save Veridun. Months of wandering and fighting and training have gone to waste in one swipe of talons.

The water was still making its way down the city, pouring into the caverns and flooding buildings. The few surviving warlocks that could control tried to turn it back into snow and put it back up the mountain, but they were far from strong enough to do it.

She heard footsteps and turned with tearful eyes to see Ragen and Mikhail running over, the latte back in his human form. "Oh, no," he whispered, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Ragen cursed and turned away, looking up at the sky with eyes full of sadness.

And then the world around her froze in time.

She frowned, eyebrows furrowing, but didn't move away from Nyal's body. Ragen and Mikhail were frozen in place, even their breathing had stopped. The water was no longer moving, instead, it was frozen in place.

Elora, her father's voice rang out. You have done well. I'm proud.

She cursed at him, ignoring the annoyed huff he let out. Light shone brightly in her eyes, making her pull an arm away from Nyal to cover her face. When it finally calmed down, she opened her eyes, staring at twin set of dazzling rainbows lights bobbing three feet from her crouched form.

Elora, a feminine voice started, one she didn't recognise. I am Zeteliorem.

The Goddess of Death. "Can you bring him back?" she asked desperately, hands once again clutching at Nyal's corpse. "Please, can't you bring him back to me?"

No, the Goddess answered. What is dead must stay dead. He will be in Rever. He will be happy.

It wasn't good enough, far from it, but there was nothing she could do. "Then at least restore his body so that I may bury him with dignity," she said.

That I will do for you. Before her eyes, the gashes that had killed Nyal began to disappear, his clothes reforming on his body. By the time it was done, it looked like the warlock was just sleeping and would wake up any minute.

"Why him?" she asked, staring up at the dazzling lights that were her father and aunt. "He was just a warlock, why was he so important?"

He is not just a warlock, Zeteliorem started. He is a demigod of my creation. Yararanje finally allowed me to create again, knowing that the Zlohiel were to return soon. I regret creating those monsters with all of my being, so I made something that could stop them. I made Nyal.

I only wish that he had been alive longer to access more of his power. I could only unlock so much. There was so much left for him to learn. But the only way the two of you could have defeated the Zlohiel was for him to die when all of his power was unleashed upon the realm. I'm sorry it had to end like this, Elora.

Her tears were still flowing as she tried to comprehend the information the Goddess had given her. Nyal had been a demigod the entire time and she had never realised. The only other demigod in existence and he was now dead.

As a reward for your efforts, Yararanje started, pulling her from her thoughts. I will remove the damage done to Maheem. Nyal healed those injured when the two of you joined together. You will have enough people to start the rebuild efforts. The Zlohiel are gone now, Elora, your job is complete.

"What am I meant to do now?" she asked, hands trembling.

Bury him. Live your life until I decide you may pass on, Yararanje answered, sounding bored. We must go now, daughter, but know that I am proud.

"I do not care what you think of me," she snarled. After so long of listening to his words and insults, she was tired of them. She no longer cared what he had to say to her. Her one goal in fixing the realm had been killed. Her job was done. She had nothing left to live for and still, he would not let her pass on. He could stay away from her mind until that time came.

The lights brightened again, causing her to close her eyes once more. When she opened them again, the Gods were gone, and time had begun again. The water had been removed from the city and the flames had disappeared. The city was back to the state it had been before the war had started.

Around her, the survivors had begun to rejoice, thanking the Gods for the restoration of the city. Ragen and Mikhail looked around in awe, and still, she sat on the cold stone ground of Maheem. With a shaky sigh, she stood, cradling Nyal's limp body in her arms.

"I'm going to Riba," she announced, causing the two men to look at her. "To bury Nyal at his home. I will not be coming back. This is goodbye."

Ragen only nodded, his tired eyes focused on Nyal's body. "We wish you well, Elora," Mikhail said. "Thank you, for everything."

"And thank you," she replied. She wanted to reach out to them and pull them into her arms. She wanted to give them a proper goodbye, but Nyal was more important. "Good luck with rebuilding. I hope the two of you have a happy life." Leaving no room for response, Elora launched herself into the air. Nyal's body was heavy in her arms and it would be a long flight to Riba, but she was going to push herself to make it.

She'd only needed one break in the end. Stopping at Dreeva, she watched from the walls for any sign of life, but the city was as dead as every other they had passed on the way. She knew what she would see when she got there, but there was a small hope within her that there would be something left. She took flight once more, leaving the quiet city behind.

Riba was still deserted when she finally made it and it was then that she finally realised that she had no idea where he had lived when he was growing up. She sighed, landing outside the city walls and gently placing Nyal's body in the soft grass. He back faced the walls, while her front faced the ocean on the horizon. It would be the perfect place to bury him.

It didn't take her long to dig the hole for him, working silently and efficiently, her own way of grieving him. The sun was beginning to set by the time she was ready to place his body in the grave. The lowered him down with as much care as she could, staring at his pale face and wishing he would just wake up.

He'd said it wasn't her fault, but there was a part of her that believed she could have moved faster, been stronger, then Nyal never would have died. If that had happened, then they never would have saved the realm. The needs of the many always outweighed the needs of the few.

Filling the grave back up was a quicker job than digging it. As she flattened out the last of the dirt, light shone at the end of the grave. She blinked, staring in wonder as a stone formed, a plain curved grave header crafted for him by the Gods. Words had been engraved on it, fitting for the warlock and demigod he had been.

She smiled at the stone, thanking Zeteliorem and sitting down next to it. She leaned against it, her wings fanning out as she watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, silent and beautiful.

Here lies Nyal Belthorne,

Son of the Gods

And Saviour of Veridun.

May he rest peacefully in Rever for the rest of eternity.