The world seemed to hold its breath.
The battlefield, once chaos incarnate, fell into an unnatural stillness. Above, the god of Judgment loomed, its dark form wavering beneath the golden glow that spilled from the god of Mercy. Light and shadow battled in the sky, their powers pressing against one another, the air cracking under the strain.
Cambria felt like the heavens had dropped their gaze upon her, waiting.
Her chest heaved. Her armor was cracked, her hands bloodied, but her spirit unbowed. She gripped her sword tightly, the weight of the blade steadying her when nothing else could.
Lucien, wounded but alive, stood at her side. His eyes met hers fiercely, proudly.
"We have a chance," he rasped. "But you must take it."
Cambria looked to Knox, to Evelyn, to Maddox the ones who had fought and bled with her, for her. And then to Seraphine, who still stood at the center of ruin, her hair tangled with ash, her face pale but defiant.
Seraphine's lips curled into a bitter smile.
