Her Light - Chapter 1

En Glory of Her Light Index

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The pounding came in waves, a relentless percussion that shook the stone gates of the Northern Borderlands Keep. Every strike of the Void Titan’s massive limbs sent shockwaves rippling through the mist-shrouded fortress, each blow louder than the last.

The air hung thick with the acrid stench of corruption and the metallic tang of fear. Above the parapets of the second wall, the soldiers faltered, their armor dulled and bloodied, their gazes fixed on the writhing shadows beyond the inner gates.

Gideon Solaryn pulled his warhorse to a stop atop the rise overlooking the chaos. He did not move. He did not speak. He was a stillness carved from iron amidst the swirling madness.

His black, silver-streaked hair caught the faint overhead light like torches, and the golden aura of Altheria’s blessed symbols glimmered faintly along the edges of his armor. His aurelian eyes, steady as stone, scanned the battlefield, taking in every faltering line, every trembling soldier.

The Behemoth Class corrupted fiend—a Void Titan—loomed larger with each passing second, growing with every Hollowed One it absorbed from the veiled Shadowlands beyond the walls. The Void Titan loomed, its malformed body a writhing chaos of bone, sinew, and something darker—something that seemed to breathe as though alive.

Each step sent a tremor through the earth, a soundless ripple that pressed on the chest like a muffled scream. As it devoured the Hollowed Ones, its form distorted further, limbs lengthening, twisting unnaturally. Its body pulsed as if the Shadowlands themselves exhaled through it, the faint echo of whispered despair trailing in its wake as it crawled toward the secondary gate.

Newly corrupted Whispered—Hollow Ones—were accompanied by a few Twisted. They’d broken through the north gate and were now attempting to force the southern open, the titan sliding over the keep like meaty liquid to reach it. They couldn’t let this bastion between the outer Shadowlands and the first line of defense to the Dominion fall.

A soldier stumbled into view below upon seeing him and his team crest the hill, the man’s helmet askew, his hands shaking as he clutched a horn. He blew a ragged note—a desperate call for reinforcements from anyone nearby. It wavered in the air, feeble against the monstrous roar that followed.

Beyond the gates, the Hollowed Ones surged, their twisted forms writhing as they flowed through the hole the titan created in the blessed doors, warping the metal with dull throbs that rippled through the purified earth.

Gideon exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the frigid air that the corruption brought, but a small smile cracked his lips. Smells like fear… Not a smell that should be in Her country.

He dismounted in a fluid motion, his armor whispering against itself as he landed. Behind him, his squad—Isolde, Drystan, and Kalen—fell into place without a word. They did not flinch. Their weapons were ready, their resolve mirroring his own as Gideon hoisted his massive war mace against his shoulder.

The captain of the keep approached, his face pale, his voice cracking. “Crusaders! Templar Solaryn! The gates…they won’t hold. I just got word that the Zealot main forces won’t be able to reach us for an hour at most—the behemoth…” His words caught in his throat as the fortress trembled beneath another earth-shaking blow.

Golden eyes rising from the man to the gates, he moved past him toward the pounding, shrieks, and terror. “Then we open the gates,” Gideon stated, his voice low and calm, unyielding.

The captain blinked and jogged to keep up with his longer strides as his team fell in line behind him. His mouth worked without sound for a moment, processing his order. Around them, soldiers paused, their despair momentarily eclipsed by hope upon seeing their bright auras or armor.

“You can’t mean…” the captain began, but Gideon raised a hand, silencing him with a look upon reaching the bottom of the steep hill.

“Do not fear the Eldritch, Captain,” he said, his tone carrying over the din, the glow in his gaze brightening as he turned to smile at him. “We are the light. It burns brightest when carried into the shadow. Faith…will see us through the storm. Open the gates.”

For a moment, silence stretched. Then, with a reluctant nod, the captain turned and shouted the order. A few soldiers hesitated, but the order was soon repeated, their path toward the gate clearing and whispered hope lighting a fire on tongues in their passing.

“Crusaders…”

“Altheria be praised.”

“Open the gates!”

Grinding of gears soon followed. The slightly dented, symbol-etched gates shuddered and creaked, slowly splitting apart to reveal the churning dark beyond. The first tendrils of corrupting mist spilled in like smoke, curling around the feet of the defenders.

Gideon didn’t turn his glowing eyes from the gathering hoard right in front of them, the stone barricades on either side funneling them in an outward V-shape. Voice lifting, he rallied the knights and foot soldiers behind his squad, quaking and trembling underneath the oppressive chatter the mist projected into their souls.

“Form ranks! There is no white flag before corruption! We pray in Her holy light until the glorious end: Altheria walks beside me. Isolde…”

His squad’s Purifier raised her luminous staff, its glow slicing through the mist, illuminating the battlefield with sanctified light. The shadows and mist retreated with a hiss, the very atmosphere twinkling with their goddess’ light.

Drystan twirled his twin blades, their edges glinting like silvered razors. Kalen raised his massive shield, a bastion of unyielding steel waiting to defend if needed.

As the Hollowed Ones surged forward, Gideon slowly picked up his pace, swinging his mace forward to take it in both hands while leading the charge. He uttered a prayer in his heart, each breath coming in and out with slow deliberation, the calm before the clash settling into his bones.

Altheria, in thy holy name, I show thy welcoming arms.

His flaming aura ignited, casting golden fire in a wide arc with each swing of Radiance, his massive mace. The wave of heat ignited the first wave in blinding, searing light; the burning corpses of corrupted humans, animals, and alien entities writhed in agony on contact, their bodies flaking away into purified ash.

His mace slammed into the next wave, obliterating corrupted forms and sending fragments spiraling into the mist. Isolde followed, sanctifying the ground with sweeping bursts of light that burned away the encroaching shadow. Drystan darted through the fray, bobbing to his right, severing tendrils seeking to bypass the funnel with lethal precision, while Kalen stood firm at their back, raising his aegis to create a wall that blocked the titan from fully entering, deflecting monstrous blows with the transparent wall he’d formed to block its bulky form.

The earth trembled violently as the behemoth emerged from the mist to slam into it. Towering above the battlefield, its grotesque form seemed to devour the faint light around it, cracking Kalen’s shield, but Gideon had faith in their youngest member’s perseverance.

Its roar split the air, a sound that sent shivers through the most seasoned knights. It raised a massive limb, bone and sinew glistening with corruption, and brought it crashing down toward the golden barrier, causing more fractures to appear.

“Hold fast!” Gideon’s voice rang out, unshaken. “Together, we are Her light! Faith precedes providence! Show Her your will and invite her to walk beside you!”

The squad moved with precision, almost immediately cutting through the initial wave to confront the titan. Kalen braced against the behemoth’s limb, his shield glowing as it absorbed the impact. Isolde channeled her power into a concentrated beam, searing the behemoth’s flank and exposing raw corruption beneath its hide. Drystan lunged for its legs, slicing through the amalgamation of shadowy tendons anchoring its massive frame.

Gideon advanced at its front, his aura blazing brighter with each stride, keeping its attention. Isolde’s beam penetrated its noxious cloak, revealing the titan’s shadow-infused core. A blinding splendor engulfed him as he bent his knees. He felt warmth close around him, wings at his back, as his kinetic force gathered—an invisible woman’s hand sliding over his.

Golden eyes sparking brighter, his flaming aura condensed into a thin film over his armored body. In the next instant, he was a thunderous bolt of lightning, mace slamming into the exposed core. The impact ignited a surge of holy fire on his way through the titan’s chest, soaring through the open gates and into the corruption-soaked fortress grounds.

Behind him, light tore through the massive creature, consuming it from within, traveling through every vein-like tendril. The behemoth writhed as its form collapsed in on itself before parts of it exploded in a burst of radiant light.

Landing atop the fallen abomination with a surge of holy orange fire, shadows retreated and Hollowed Ones burned as his aura pulsed outward. Straightening, Gideon smiled, hoisting his mace over his shoulder as the bells sang across the whole country and a pillar of light erupted from the bright, sunless heavens, weakening every corrupted creature within the fortress and a blinding lustrous spear illuminated in the distance, near the broken gate.

The battlefield fell still. The Hollowed Ones scattered, their twisted forms dissolving into ash. Gideon stood atop the remains of the behemoth, his aura flickering but unbroken. Around him, soldiers began to stir, their fear replaced with awe.

He raised Radiance, its head still glowing within the rays that had bathed them all. “Her light is ours to carry,” he declared, his voice steady. “Despair has no hold where faith endures.”

The soldiers cheered, their voices rising like a hymn against the dark. “For the light! For the Dominion! For Altheria! Holy is Her name!”

But Gideon’s gaze lingered on the horizon. The mist still writhed and surged around the spear of light, where Altheria was directing them. The whispers of corruption loomed beyond, the Shadowlands surging to overcome it. This initial contact was won, but the battle was far from over.

The fortress trembled beneath the weight of corruption. Each step Gideon took through the outer courtyard sent echoes of resolve rippling outward, his golden aura pulsing faintly, a flame in the consuming shadows. Around him, his squad advanced with precision, their weapons held with an air of lethal readiness.

Corrupted remnants still swarmed the narrow corridors from deeper in the keep, spilling through breaches and shattered doorways. Tendrils of mist curled like groping hands, seeking to reclaim what the sanctified walls defied.

Gideon’s mace rose and fell in sweeping arcs of light and fire, carving through Hollowed Ones as he pushed forward. Their twisted, humanoid, alien, and beast-like forms reflected the soul-drained entities, husks of their former selves.

His squad maintained formation; Kalen’s shield was more meant for those behind them or for Isolde than Drystan or him. The battered soldiers of the keep rallied, their hope rekindled by the light of faith and their presence.

“Above!” Kalen called, raising his shield as corrupted critters scuttled along the walls, their limbs twisting unnaturally. Drystan lunged ahead, his twin blades cutting through the abominations before they could descend.

“I only need a few more seconds… I can feel the soldiers’ faith rising!” Isolde’s voice carried as her radiant staff ignited a burst of cleansing light, dissolving the mist and revealing the fortress courtyard. “Altheria, we thank thee for thy watchful eyes. We ask for thy blessing to bathe us in healing waters to cleanse the corruption from thy land!”

A droplet of water struck Gideon’s nose, beautiful golden clouds gathering above at the Purifier’s prayer. The battle opened into the wider expanse with the gentle rays brightening above the keep. He relaxed as the soft rainfall came, each one like tiny arrows penetrating the mindless creatures of the miasma.

The battlement’s once-pristine stone was now fractured and blackened, yet the pure water bled through the darkness, returning its luster—the damage was another matter. Around them, cheers and prayers of thanks were held on the lips of the soldiers, a nearby woman falling to her knees, closing her eyes, and mumbling under her breath as her tears mixed with the warm water.

Hollowed Ones collapsed to the ground, the corrupted forms of normal men, women, children…infants. The somber mood remained that always came after a victory. Though the bodies of those taken had been purified, their souls were long gone. They’d only fought a few corrupted who had maintained their souls, if you could call them that after the Eldritch forces were done with them.

Gideon led the way into the weakly defended southern half of the keep, designed to be extremely fortified on the exterior and weak on the interior, in case it was breached. Any hiding Hollowed One in the corridors was swiftly dealt with as they reached the center of the keep to overlook the outer courtyard leading to the broken gate and Shadowlands beyond it.

At its center, near the broken gates, a glowing pillar of light pierced the gloom, casting long, stark shadows. The rain was subsiding, allowing the mist to creep back in. Yet, within the light stood a lone figure—a teenage girl, trembling and wreathed in divine splendor as shadows moved around it.

Gideon’s grip tightened against his mace’s shaft. The captain of the keep stumbled forward, panting heavily as he joined them on the charred battlements. His face was pale, his armor scorched from Hollow Flames, but his voice carried urgency.

“Templar! T-The…the titan—it emerged from the shadows around her—that girl. She came out of nowhere, crying for help, just before it emerged and breached the gates.”

Gideon’s gaze sharpened. His eyes swept over the battlefield, catching every threatening detail. The girl’s clothes—strange, unfamiliar, and unlike anything he’d seen in the Dominion or beyond—clung to her as if torn by some great storm. The tears showed something shocking to him—a partially eclipsed sun by a crescent shadow, faint but glowing upon her chest. She shielded her face, her sobs visible even through the brilliance of Altheria’s light.

Something moved within the shadows encircling the light—a figure. It was neither corrupted spawn nor Hollowed One. The mist churned violently, coalescing into the towering form of an Abyssal Reaper. Its spectral scythe glinted with a black sheen, and its eyeless face turned toward the girl with singular, predatory intent.

Drystan cursed under his breath, his blades twitching in his hands. “That’s not a Soulless… That’s a Shadow Stalker. I know you could handle the Void Titan with Altheria’s crippling light on it, but this? We’re likely to see heavy casualties… Like last time.”

Kalen stiffened at his side, gripping his shield tighter. “We need to wait for the Zealot Captain-General or Crusader Commander, then. Right? Even with the light, that thing is—”

Gideon’s voice cut through, low and certain. “Altheria’s spear ends at the girl. That is where She is. So that is where we’re going.”

The others faltered for a moment, their gazes flicking toward the Abyssal Reaper, waiting patiently as it waited, the spear’s light gradually fading.

Isolde stepped forward, her staff emitting a faint hum of power. “Gideon…you’re sure? This isn’t some harbinger, directing the forces. That thing isn’t here for us. It’s obviously here for her.”

Gideon turned to her, his expression calm, his voice steady. “Altheria gave us an objective. The girl is alive. Whether she brought the Void Titan or not is irrelevant. Her will is for us to defend that girl. Do you have the faith to walk with me into the light?” he asked with a half-smile, knowing the answer. “Anelisse wouldn’t hesitate.”

Vision growing distant for a moment, Isolde exhaled sharply, her grip tightening on her staff. A smile, half-amused, half-resigned, curled her lips as a small quiver ran through her frame. “No, she wouldn’t have… Neither would the rest of our old squad.”

Her bright emerald eyes illuminated with faith. “I’d follow you straight into the Shadowlands if Altheria’s beside us, Gideon.”

Gideon nudged her with a short laugh at not using his title as a Templar, his own smile faint but warm. “We managed to purify a Corruptor Lord. What’s a Reaper compared to that? Let’s go.”

Turning, he gave orders with the clarity of a commander who knew his squad’s strengths as well as his own. A Crusader squad should consist of six to eight members, yet he only had four, and Kalen was just brought into the order.

“Drystan, Kalen—secure the girl. You know the Reaper’s style. We’ll make sure it can’t teleport through the shadows, and it will send Twisted Hollowed Ones to pursue her if we’re keeping it busy. Get her to safety. Isolde is with me.”

Kalen hesitated. “And if that thing gets by and comes for us?”

“It won’t,” Gideon stated, already jumping over the battlement to the ground ten meters below. He knew what he meant: should we prioritize her or the soldiers if you fail? “Have faith.”

Isolde jumped with him, her light sweeping away the encroaching mist and slowing their descent with a bright pulse. “You know, I half-expected you to charge in alone,” she mumbled with a light glare before the other two reached them.

“I have faith,” he replied, his tone light yet unwavering. “But I’m not stupid. Faith is shown in action—and outside of Altheria Herself, I have the most faith in you to have my back.”

The tension in her shoulders lessened slightly at that. She laughed, the sound a relief to his own heart—truth was, he wasn’t totally sure if they could survive this. But, survive or not, Altheria had marked this teenage girl for a reason.

“Flattery?” Isolde huffed. “Are you softening on me, Gideon? Where was the hardass senior who would run me into the dirt if I messed up my martial training?”

His response was a sharp swing of Radiance, incinerating a wave of Hollowed Ones that surged to meet them. “…I had to make sure a Purifier could fight well.” He gave her a crooked smirk while leading the charge, the other two men bringing up their tail. “It’s because I oversaw your training that I know you can keep up and why you were my first pick when I was promoted.”

“I’m sure I was,” she whispered, a smile on her lips as her glow magnified, parting the darkness and providing a clear path while cleansing an area few could match. Isolde prepared her staff, one of only three combat-trained Purifiers for close-quarters melee within the order. “I won’t let you die until you’ve managed to marry… I promised Anelisse that.”

Gideon’s smile softened, yet his golden eyes became steel as they neared the pillar of light. “That does sound like her…”

The Abyssal Reaper turned its hollow-eyed gaze toward them. The mist recoiled in its wake, its spectral form moving with an unnatural, predatory grace. The air seemed to darken, the very light around it dimming.

Gideon’s aura blazed brighter in response as Isolde entered the fading beam of light protecting the girl. The moment he locked eyes with the corrupted fiend, a shiver ran down Gideon’s spine, and he felt a claw reaching through time and space into the depths of his mind and soul. Words. Only, they were more projected meaning, a certainty of death itself.

“Your faith invites doubt and disorder… Freedom is a lie. We sow the seed of corruption, and your insignificant light will end as an enshrouded, nourishing soil of decay for the Truth that lies Within.”

All time seemed to stop in that moment, the message sent to all of them at once, transcending communication for a resonant oscillation within their very souls. Then, the gap snapped like a taut thread, and Isolde and he rushed by the petrified teenage girl.

Gideon caught a fleeting glimpse of her as he passed, the protective light dimming enough to reveal her fragile form. A girl—young, no more than a breath in this ancient, corrupted world—knelt at the center of the chaos, her face streaked with dirt and tears.

Auburn hair, disheveled and tangled, clung to her pale cheeks, and her wide hazel eyes shimmered with a mix of terror and confusion. Her clothes struck him as alien, strange patterns and vibrant colors incongruous with the muted tones of the Dominion. A silver chain glinted at her throat with some sort of unknown symbol on it—perhaps occult—a trinket that seemed as out of place as the faint aura of radiant energy trembling around her, like a bird’s wings caught in a storm.

Yet, despite her clear fragility, there was something undeniable about her—a weight in her presence that Gideon couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just the beam of Altheria’s light that had shielded her, nor the abyssal monstrosity clawing its way toward her as if she were the key to a locked door. No, it was the way her trembling hands gripped her knees, the way her gaze flickered with an ember of slight defiance, refusing to be extinguished, looking for a way out.

A child of another world, perhaps, but no ordinary child. She was the eye of this storm. But Gideon didn’t have the luxury to linger on the question. His next step brought him between her and the Reaper, Radiance alight in his hands as Isolde raised her staff high, calling upon her own faith.

“Altheria’s hand is in mine, and she walks with us. You are watched by the unseen star!”

The Reaper’s scythe rose as an effulgent brilliance erupted around them from no one source. It was as if the very air itself released its inner light. All the soldiers covered their eyes, the teen’s head lulled to the side, forced into a restorative, purifying slumber. A surge of power erupted within Gideon’s breast, amplifying him as the glow around the whole gate increased to blinding degrees, a healing tide welling up within him to ease any fatigue.

It tilted its featureless head toward Gideon, the empty sockets of its gaze locking onto him with unnatural precision. The mist around it swirled like living tendrils, twisting and writhing in response to its silent command.

Then, the Reaper’s formless mouth spoke into their souls like cold ice digging into their veins.

“Templar Gideon Solaryn,” it hissed, its voice cutting through the battlefield like the scrape of a blade against bone. “I know you… I’ve known you. You burn brightly, but flames this bold always die quickest. How many times will you cast yourself into the void before it consumes you… As it did to the one you love?”

Gideon’s teeth ground together. “Your whispers are wasted. Faith does not falter in the light of truth. I trust in Her path.”

The Reaper’s scythe rose, its spectral blade gleaming with void-dark energy. “Faith? Ah, yes. Your crutch. Your cage. How delicious it will be to watch your light flicker and fail, just as it did before…when Anelisse Caelvar was consumed. She still speaks in the dark…if you’ll listen.”

The words struck like a hammer, guilt flooding his body as images of her last moments danced before his eyes. Gideon’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second, but the golden fire in his gaze only burned brighter. He stepped forward, his voice unwavering. “Faith is no crutch, fiend. Anelisse walks with Altheria, not in your shadows. Faith is a choice, one you will never understand as a puppet of your masters.”

The Reaper laughed, a sound that echoed within their very bones as its hollow eyes turned to Isolde, making the Purifier freeze up. “And what of your darker desires, Isolde Caelvar? What guilt and longing you hold in your heart, knowing you will never have what your sister did… Despair in it.”

Gideon moved slightly closer to her as Kalen checked the girl to see if she was capable of being moved, seeing his purifier’s resolve waver. He could practically feel her thoughts, turning inward under the swallowing darkness while comparing herself to her older sister.

Am I worthy? Am I…enough to fill her place?

“Isolde!” Gideon’s voice cut through the oppressive fog, steady and unyielding. “You know better than me how proud your sister was of you. You stand in the light. Let no shadow claim your heart.”

“Insignificant.”

Before she could recover or Kalen could lift the teen up to retreat, the Reaper slashed its scythe, but not at them…above them. A rift opened up and a black miasma emerged, bleeding through as if reality itself had been marred.

Isolde clutched one hand to her chest as needles pricked every part of their being, insect-like hums buzzing in their minds causing them all to wince—in a matter of seconds, the blinding light was reduced to dusk, leaving a chilling silence throughout the battlefield.

The Reaper lowered its scythe—slowly, deliberately. Its empty eyes fixated on him as every other person was frozen in place. Gideon’s heart beat faster. His breath came out in pants.

Move! Move! he shouted to himself, but with every passing second, the light around them dimmed further. Rally everyone! If I fall into the darkness, no one will be left to pull everyone else out. They’re trapped. Was…I too proud? Too arrogant? Was fighting an Abyssal Reaper the right call…or was I mistaken? I…can’t do this alone…

Dark mist seeped out of the tear, creeping along the earth like fingers, inching toward their victims to overshadow them…but it was that hum, that sound it brought, as if it were a portal to some deep place not meant for mortal ears. 

But. I’m not alone… Altheria walks with me.

An unseen warmth blossomed into a brilliance before him, unlike any supernatural experience he had ever known. Time slowed. Not as it had before. It was as if he’d left his body, his pulse quickening, the world and all fear subsiding.

The air shifted, growing weightless and serene, the darkness retreating. His grip on Radiance tightened, not out of fear, but reverence, as the brilliance took form—a figure shaped by light and grace, indistinct yet overwhelmingly present.

She stood there, hands outstretched, palms open, as if inviting the world into Her embrace. Her golden aura flickered and danced like a sunlit breeze through trees, and Her eyes—shining with endless, loving light—met his… A sister, offering Her hand to a brother in need.

Time itself seemed to bow before Her, each moment suspended in profound peace. “Gideon,” she spoke, Her voice like a hymn carried on the wind, weaving its way through his heart. “You opened the door. Light is not the absence of shadow, nor is shadow the absence of light. Both exist as one, and it is the choice that defines you. Will you walk with me in the light, even when darkness claws at your heels?”

The Abyssal Reaper recoiled, its spectral form slow and sluggish while shuddering under Her presence. Mist that once crept relentlessly now faltered, trembling as if caught the sight of something incomprehensible. Yet, the rift it had torn remained, pulsing with the defiant void, a stain upon the very fabric of reality.

Isolde, who had been staggering from the miasma, fell to her knees as a sob escaped her lips, unable to see what he did, but feeling her nearby. “Altheria…” she whispered, clutching her staff to her chest. Her voice broke, filled with awe and vulnerability. “You are here with us.”

“I am always here, Sister,” Altheria answered, her gaze softening as it turned to Isolde. “But my presence does not call you to kneel in submission but as family. It calls you to rise to meet the shadow not with despair, but together with me in strength.”

Isolde’s trembling eased, and as she lifted her head, her staff flared with a renewed, piercing light. The oppressive air lifted, if only slightly, and the mist hissed as it retreated further.

Altheria extended a hand toward Gideon, her expression firm yet compassionate. “The hearts of many close themselves to fear, and in that closing, they lose the will to choose. Fear gives way to doubt, doubt leads to despair, and despair…to corruption. But you, my radiant brother, must keep your heart open—to the light and the shadow. Only then can you walk with purpose, without succumbing to either.”

Gideon’s jaw tightened, his body still as her words coursed through him. Her hand, though ethereal, seemed to press against his chest, filling him with a warmth that rekindled his resolve. “I will carry your light, Altheria,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart swelled with the weight of her presence. “Guide me, and I will walk wherever you lead, Divine Sister.”

She smiled—not a mere gesture or seen, but an overwhelming wave of love and strength that radiated outward. “Trust her, Gideon. Open your heart, not only to me but to the strength you share. Together, you will overcome the shadow.”

Her gaze flickered to Isolde, whose renewed strength already brightened the battlefield. “She will amplify your light when it falters, and together, you will banish this shadow. Have faith in her, as you do in me. Remember, keep your heart open.”

Gideon turned to Isolde, her staff blazing like the solar stars he’d heard stories of from the elderly, before they’d been transported to this Eldritch realm of corruption. His voice softened, but the conviction in it was unmistakable.

“Isolde, are you with me?”

The golden-haired woman straightened, emerald eyes glistening with both fear and determination. Very few of those soldiers present would have had the faith needed to witness this split moment interaction, yet Isolde replied without reservation, rising to her feet. Her hands trembled, but she took his side.

“I’m with you, Gideon,” she stated. “I will not falter… I said I wouldn’t let you die, Altheria as my witness.”

Their goddess’ form began to shimmer, her golden light merging with Isolde’s glory. “Protect the child, Brother,” Altheria whispered, her voice fading but resonant. “She has her own will and agency. The light is not a shield or sword, but a choice. Step forward, together. Show the power of our faith and union that shatters fate.”

As her form dissolved into golden rain, the battlefield seemed to draw breath again, droplets once again falling from the sky. The Abyssal Reaper hissed, a sound that tore through the fleeting warmth like claws rending silk, and began its approach once more. The tear in reality pulsed, its miasma thickening, but Isolde’s staff blazed brighter in response, illuminating a clear path forward.

Gideon’s grip on Radiance tightened, his aura flaring as he stepped toward the shadow as Kalen lifted the girl; her body sagged, but her eyes flickered open for the briefest moment—wide, startled, and aware. A faint glimmer of light pulsed at her chest, vanishing before he could place it.

Kalen tossed the girl over his shoulder and retreated. Grotesque distortions with elongated limbs, jagged appendages, and crimson eyes surged out of the Reaper’s cloak to intercept them. Yet, Drystan came between them, ready to meet the Twisted.

Believing in his team, Gideon allowed them by, putting his full focus on the agitated wraith in front of him. He showed Isolde a small grin, feeling the fear yet meeting it with courage. “Today, Reaper… You will feel fear.”

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