He felt his body grow heavy as the notification echoed through his head, announcing the death of the Mother of Stillbirths.
Damon drew a long breath and collapsed to his knees. Hundreds of stillborn around him began to fall one by one, their fragile forms crumbling into dust as they touched the ground. The air filled with drifting motes of ash.
His gaze shifted to the place where he had shredded the Mother of Stillbirths. From the pool of her blood, a small object glimred faintly.
Lazarak approached and slowly picked it up.
"We now have the key to the last trial. Our escape is at hand, my friend."
Damon nodded and pushed himself to his feet. His breath ca heavy as he looked at the remaining shades drifting in the dark around them.
"Then what are we waiting for. I cannot wait to get out of this hell hole."
Lazarak smiled at his words.
"Yes. Likewise. After several thousand years I wonder how the world has changed."
Damon clenched his fist as a sharp sting twisted in his chest. They had reached the end of their imprisonnt. It ant he would finally step outside of Eidolon. The thought filled him with uncertainty and quiet dread. If he returned to the world, he might have to face the truth that his friends were long dead, consud by nightmares.
’But what if they were still alive and waiting for outside.’
No matter what, he still had to keep moving. Whatever cure existed for his sister was out there, beyond this prison. He could not allow himself to break now.
He had endured too long to falter now.
’Just one more stretch before it all ends.’
The thought lit a fire in his heart. Damon could not wait any longer. He had to leave this place.
"Let us go. To the next trial."
Lazarak’s eyes widened as he stared up at Damon with a stunned expression.
"Huh. What. Why. We just finished one trial. We need to rest and plan."
Damon’s eyes carried a deep longing, a weary exhaustion he always tried to hide beneath a mask of indifference or chaotic playfulness.
Lazarak sighed. There was nothing he could say to change Damon’s mind. He understood him too well. After a journey this long, the final stretch always felt unbearable. The more you desired sothing, the less you could wait. And that was when people beca reckless and made the most dangerous mistakes.
Damon knew that too. But he still could not wait. His fist tightened as he spoke softly.
"The lower you get in Eidolon, the worse the prisoners and the wardens beco. But Lazarak, we are the worst this prison has to offer. At the lowest level, all the way down on the deep seventh floor, we had no warden because none were worthy of stopping us."
His voice grew cold and unshaken.
"All they could do was bind us with powerful chains, yet we broke free. And here we are on the second floor of Eidolon. None have escaped before. None have defeated its wardens except us."
He lifted his hand slowly, his fist trembling with resolve.
"None but us. We dared because we could not be restrained. We have already defeated what should have stopped us. Why should the first and weakest of these wardens matter. We are injured and tired. Good. We can give the wretches a handicap."
Lazarak froze as he listened. Damon’s voice carried a strange heat, sothing intoxicating. It stirred the already blazing heart of the god of darkness.
"The world is just beyond this prison. Let us take it on. Together."
A smile blood on Lazarak’s face and he laughed at Damon’s words. He had been silent for so long, but those words stirred sothing deep within him.
"To victory or death. Let us change this world forever."
Damon returned the smile. He forced his broken, trembling body upright and stepped forward through the darkened corridor.
Lazarak walked beside him in the form of a small toddler, yet in that mont he felt vast, deep, like a sea of serene darkness.
Matia flicked the blood from her sword.
She waved her hand and the blade vanished into the ether. Her blue eyes followed them. She was the only witness to this mont. Perhaps the only one who would rember the day Damon Grey and Lazarak set out to confront the world.
The two were different, yet chaotically similar.
Each defied for a reason.
One defied because it was his nature, driven by an ego that refused to bend. He carried an eternal, silent scream toward gods who never heard his suffering.
Toward gods who never saw his anguish. He lived only for his sister, clinging to the single purpose of her salvation. And now that it was within reach, he no longer had any reason to endure. This was his final war.
The thought made a single tear fall from Matia’s eyes. Her helm hid what lay beneath, but behind the cold tallic ice was the face of a woman whose eyes were blurred with tears she fought to contain. She was the only witness to a tragedy still unfolding.
And the other was no better.
Gods were cruel, and when they were not, they were weak. Here stood a weak god who wished to be strong, a god who wished to change the world. The first god who failed to be chosen had chosen instead to be the first to change everything.
"And together they march to death."
"Where I will be their only witness."
Tears slipped from her helm and struck the ground with soft splatters. Matia hated that she had regained her emotions and mories. They only made her feel weak.
She touched her helm to ensure her face remained hidden. She wore it because she never wanted Damon to see her falter again.
She clenched her fists and stepped toward them.
"I will not be a silent witness."
If there was ruin, then she would be there, for that was her fate as the Ruin Fairy.
A sword for a defiant shadow driven by a desire for his oblivion.
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