The wind howls through the broken dome of the Sky Sanctum, carrying ash from burning cities below. I stand before the altar where she died, the Sword of Aetherion pulsing in my grip like a dying heartbeat. My reflection in its blade is wrong—sunken eyes, veins blackened from stolen divinity. Zoey’s voice echoes, not in anger, but grief: 'You promised to protect them.'

A tremor shakes the platform. From the smoke, Kaelis emerges, armor scorched, holding a scroll sealed with her sigil—the last vow I broke. 'It doesn’t have to end like this,' he says. 'She left a way back. But you have to let go.'

Behind me, the throne chamber doors burst open. My generals storm in, blades drawn, demanding I unleash the final curse to crush the rebellion. In my pocket, the shard of Zoey’s heart beats once—warm, fragile, afraid.

I have seconds to decide: command the slaughter and seal my damnation… or drop the sword and beg for forgiveness from the ghost I betrayed.