The moment Zeroth growled that the siege was about to be over, the world erupted.
A thunderous shockwave slammed through the stronghold like a war drum strike against the earth itself. Stone quivered beneath Zeroth's boots, dust burst from the walls, and for a moment, everything froze in suspended violence. The air went still, just long enough for his stomach to knot. Then, in the far distance beyond the stronghold's gate, the skyline lit up. Bolts of blinding lightning split the heavens, trailing in rapid succession behind flashes of golden radiance, a radiance he knew as Ardric's divine magic. But that wasn't all. Choking, writhing arcs of dark crimson and black cracked through the air between them, unnatural and chaotic, distorting the sky with every pulse.
Zeroth's breath caught. His gaze snapped to Mira and Varic, the latter still standing protectively behind Mira's shoulder. "This isn't over," he said grimly, his blue eyes flicking toward the pulsing horizon. "Stay here. Both of you."
Varic started to speak, but Zeroth was already gone, his boots pounding against stone, godflame flaring into life around his shoulders and arms as he shot down the corridor like a comet. The courtyard's shattered gates parted before him like the jaws of a waiting beast, and as he emerged, the storm of violence greeted him in full. Amid the chaos, he saw Ardric and Kael, both standing, both bloodied and breathing heavily. Scorch marks patterned their armor, and glowing cuts streaked their arms and faces. Yet still they stood, weapons drawn, eyes skyward.
Zeroth followed their gaze.
Hovering roughly fifty feet above them, Ralgar loomed like a twisted god. His small kobold frame pulsed with raw, corrupted energy, the red and black lightning swirling around him like a halo of malice. His eyes glowed with barely contained fury, casting long shadows over the battlefield below. Zeroth's body moved before he could think. His flames roared higher, licking across his arms and shoulders as instinct overtook hesitation. Every part of him surged with that singular need to protect and to crush whatever threat dared float above his brother. He sprinted forward, heat warping the air around him.
Then the trees screamed.
A whistling sound cut through the chaos that was something massive, primal, and fast. A blur of rock and earth burst from the treeline, hurling through the air with terrifying force. A massive boulder the size of a siege cart collided with Ralgar mid-hover, shattering into an avalanche of debris and force that sent the kobold's body tumbling from the sky like a meteor snuffed out.
The battlefield stilled and Zeroth skidded to a halt, gaze whipping toward the forest's edge, eyes scanning for the source. He caught sight of Ardric and Kael, their heads turned just like his, blinking against the storm of dust kicked up by the impact.
Then, through the haze, movement.
A figure limped forward from the tree line, using a gnarled staff to support herself. Her long brown hair was wild, tangled with blood and leaves, and her green and brown leathers bore the signs of a hard-fought retreat. Behind her came the remnants of her alliance, battered but standing.
Aunrae.
Zeroth's flames dimmed slightly, confusion and awe colliding in his chest as their eyes met across the field. Even from a distance, he saw the weariness etched into her expression, the weight she carried for her people. But there was still power in her steps, still resolve in the way she raised her head toward the fallen Ralgar's impact crater.
Zeroth's molten gaze lingered on Aunrae as she limped into the clearing, but he barely had time to process her arrival before more figures emerged from the trees behind her.
Three.
The rest of her alliance—survivors, but only just.
One leaned heavily on a crystalline blade that shimmered with autumn hues, their cloak burnt and frayed. Another, clad in barklike armor laced with glowing vines, kept a hand raised cautiously, as if expecting another ambush. The third bore no weapon at all, only glowing runes inscribed along their arms and throat, humming softly like a song remembered.
They said nothing, but all three looked directly at Zeroth and nodded.
Zeroth's eyes narrowed as he turned his head sharply toward the smoldering crater where Ralgar had fallen. The air pulsed and stone cracked. And the crater exploded in a furious cyclone of red and black light, the corrupted energies swirling outward in violent whips of magic. Ralgar rose—levitating once more—but now his body twitched and convulsed, jagged arcs of dark lightning cracking from his limbs like frayed cords barely under control. His cloak had burned away, revealing the twisted shape of his mutated form, exposed bone jutting from scales, warped limbs covered in glistening crimson veins. Whatever mask he once wore was gone, revealing a face warped by rage and divine corruption.
He didn't scream. He simply reached out, and the sky bled lightning. A hundred jagged spears of red and black energy lashed downward toward the battlefield, but before they could strike, the mages of Aunrae's alliance raised their hands in defiance.
The first cast erupted like a blooming rose made of crystal, its petals of translucent energy spinning into a shield that scattered three of the spears into bursts of light. The second thrust both arms forward, summoning a writhing vine construct of living shadow and light. It slithered upward, coiling around a lightning bolt and swallowing it whole, the red and black crackles dissolving into harmless sparks. The third, rune-covered and silent, raised their hands to the sky. A ring of glowing blue glyphs formed in the air and rotated slowly. As the next barrage of Ralgar's corruption rained down, the glyphs unleashed a wall of prismatic fire. Each flame was a different color of the visible spectrum, roaring upward like a dragon's breath. Lightning collided with it, fizzled, and died.
Zeroth watched it all unfold from beneath the magical war above, the fires and shadows and glowing vines painting colors across his armor. Flashes of emerald, gold, cobalt, and violet shimmered against the surface of his skin like a living tapestry. The divine heat that coursed through him pulsed brighter with each magical counterstrike. Then, like a pebble hurled into still water, a voice shattered the moment in his mind.
"Zeroth."
He staggered mid-step, caught off guard. The voice hadn't come from beside him or behind—it came through him, like magma poured directly into his bones. It was Pyronox, and he was not pleased.
"Stop gawking. You still have work to do."
The words echoed in his skull, carved in fire. Zeroth winced and grit his teeth.
"Get back into the stronghold. Now. She's waiting. End this."
The voice faded just as suddenly as it came, leaving Zeroth panting with one hand on his forehead, beads of sweat hissing into steam along his brow.
He glanced up once more, just long enough to see Aunrae's alliance still holding the line against Ralgar, their spells weaving a radiant shield between destruction and survival.
Zeroth turned and ran, his godfire reigniting as he sprinted toward the stronghold.
Zeroth burst back into the stronghold, molten footfalls echoing in the stone corridor like a forge drumbeat.
The chaos of battle still pulsed in the distance, muffled by the thick walls, but in this quiet space… silence reigned.
He slowed as the courtyard came into view.
There, in the middle of the chamber, Mira knelt beside Sylvana's unconscious body, her cloak draped across her friend's chest like a blanket. Her expression was neither anger nor sadness, but something deeper. Acceptance. Her fingers trembled as they brushed Sylvana's sweat-matted hair away from her face.
Varic stood just a few paces behind them, leaning back against the cool stone wall. His emerald eyes reflected the flashes of magic still painting the sky through a broken archway above, unfocused. He said nothing, his thoughts buried in the storm beyond.
Zeroth's flames dimmed as he approached, his armor hissing as it cooled. The divine glow softened around him, fading until he stood once more as just a dwarf, scorched beard, bloodied knuckles, and all. He came to a stop before Mira, his eyes meeting hers. She looked up at him.
Zeroth scratched his temple awkwardly.
"I'm… sorry," he said at last. "I didn't want this to go down like it did. With Sylvana out… this takes your alliance outta the Godswar. I wish there was another way."
Mira didn't reply at first. She looked down at Sylvana's peaceful, unconscious face, her hand tightening slightly in the red-haired strands.
Then she spoke, voice low.
"You've still got time. Be careful. Ralgar's group… they aren't just here to win." She looked up again, gaze firm. "Watch your back. Watch all of theirs."
Zeroth gave a small nod, guilt and resolve clashing behind his eyes.
Then Mira turned her attention toward Varic.
She gave him the faintest nod.
Varic straightened.
"Ready?" he asked softly, the words more for Mira than for Zeroth.
She gave a sad smile, stood slowly, and brushed the dirt from her robes.
"Don't make it hurt," she said, gently.
"I'll make it peaceful," Varic replied.
Zeroth took a step back, watching as his friend's emerald eyes dimmed, a dark green shadow leaking from the edges of his cloak like oil spilled across stone.
Varic extended a hand.
Mira placed her own in his.
A heartbeat passed.
And they vanished in a spiral of smoky green shadow.
The silence returned.
Then, just a few seconds later, Varic reappeared beside Sylvana's body, gently laying Mira next to her—unconscious, unharmed, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Zeroth exhaled deeply.
"They'll both be alright?" he asked.
Varic gave a tired nod, a half-smile on his face.
"Tucked 'em both into the quiet side of the realm. No pain. No memories of the transition."
Zeroth looked down at the two women, and for the first time in what felt like days, allowed himself to feel a little relief.
"They fought like hell," he murmured. "Glad they'll live to see what comes next."
The ground beneath them trembled, a distant rumble, a reminder that Ralgar was still out there.
Zeroth looked toward the open archway, eyes narrowing.
"C'mon. We've got one more mess to clean up."
Varic's smile faded, his fingers twitching with latent shadow.
He followed without a word.
As Zeroth and Varic stepped through the broken stone archway, the battlefield stretched before them like the aftermath of a war god's tantrum. Scorched earth. Shattered stone. The twisted remains of magical constructs littered the fields like discarded puppets.
And then Delores's voice boomed, grand and haunting, across the entire battlefield. It didn't echo like normal sound, it vibrated in the bones, in the mind.
"Enough."
The word hit like a thunderclap. Every spell halted mid-cast. Every warrior froze mid-strike. Even the winds seemed to pause, awaiting her command.
"The siege is over. The field is claimed. Mira's alliance is out."
Zeroth exhaled slowly, just as he spotted Ardric kneeling beside Kael some distance away, one glowing hand pressed to Kael's chest in a quiet gesture of healing. No victory cheer. No smugness. Just exhausted respect between warriors.
But not everyone accepted the outcome.
Above them, Ralgar hovered again, his small form wrapped in a vortex of seething red and black energy, crackling wildly with fury. His hands raised, trembling with raw rage, dark lightning beginning to arc from his palms.
"No," Zeroth muttered. "Don't be that stupid—"
Too late. A streak of shimmering violet ripped through the sky. Ralgar didn't scream or finish his incantation. Delores's magic slammed into him like a meteor, snapping him from the air and burying him face-first in a smoking crater. His corrupted power fizzled instantly, as though smothered under the weight of something ancient and absolute.
Then came her cold, regal, amused laughter in a way that made the back of Zeroth's neck prickle.
"Oh, dear. Someone forgot their place. One more stunt like that, little lizard, and I'll turn you into a puddle of regret and pulp. Understand?"
A groaning noise came from the crater. Whether it was a yes or a whimper didn't seem to matter.
Delores pressed on.
"Now then… with Mira's alliance disqualified, and one lizard officially face-first in a dirt nap—let me ask: does anyone else fancy testing their mortality?"
Every eye turned toward Aunrae's alliance. They emerged slowly from the treeline, battered and winded, some limping, some holding cracked staves or scorched weapons. Aunrae herself stood with one arm bound tightly to her chest in a sling of conjured ivy, her brown eyes steady, if tired.
Silence held like a drawn breath.
"You are clever," Delores continued, now softer but still reverberating in every chest. "Magically gifted. Strategic. But not built for this. The next stage? It rarely leaves survivors. Sometimes, not even one."
Zeroth clenched his jaw. He watched Aunrae's face, stone still. Then, slowly, she nodded once.
The purple light swirled in the air again, forming a sigil.
"Aunrae of Terraana—out." Delores's voice held no mockery now. Just finality. "Wise, beautiful decision."
The weight of the moment settled. Zeroth scanned the battlefield again. Only fragments remained. No armies now. Just individuals. Just champions. Just what the Godswar was always meant to become.
Delores's tone brightened unnervingly, the way a lullaby might be sung over a battlefield.
"Now then, surviving champions… get your rest. The next stage will begin when the blood dries and the stars rise."
Zeroth's legs wobbled. He felt the weight hit him all at once. Every fight. Every choice. His body gave in just as a silvery light touched his shoulder and he wasn't sure whose god it was, or if it was all of them working together. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the pale sky above beginning to ripple… as if the world itself was exhaling.