[Location: Twilight Carriage - Sky above the Mortal Realm]
After their 'escape' from the divine realm, they finally returned to the Dawnfall Region.
The carriage glided smoothly through the clouds, occasionally revealing the lush green expanse of the Eastern Forest. Through the carriage's enchanted glass, Maryal's Tomb Monument came into view.
Raiking sat by the window, his chin resting on his hand as he watched the landscape pass by. On his shoulder perched a small, red-feathered bird—Libinea in her condensed form—resting peacefully with her tiny head tucked under a wing, weary from the task of rewriting her species' biology.
Seated across from him was Ezmelral, her cheeks puffed out in indignation like a disgruntled chipmunk.
"Master! How could you leave me like that?"
"I had pressing matters to attend to," Raiking responded, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.
"What could possibly take precedence over your blade? I was trapped in a room filled with decrepit, dying men!"
"I went to see the Goddess."
Ezmelral gasped, her indignation morphing into scandal. "Hmph! So it was for a woman." She crossed her arms defiantly and turned away. "I doubt she even offered you any chicken."
"I don't recall you offering me any either."
Ezmelral remembered how she had taken the entire chicken for herself during the feast. "I... still, you can't just abandon me like that."
"She is injured, Ezmelral."
Though softly spoken, the words cut through the carriage air like a chilling breeze. Ezmelral froze, her childishness vanishing instantly. Her posture straightened, and her eyes shifted from playful warmth to the cold, calculating gaze of a weapon that had witnessed the destruction of galaxies.
She fixed her eyes on her Master.
"When did you decide to switch your emotions back on?"
The question was laden with danger. The God of Death, for countless ages, had existed as a void—a natural force that annihilated not out of desire, but because it was his inherent role. He was devoid of emotion, indifferent to all.
Raiking eventually turned his eyes away from the window, directing his tired and profound gaze towards Ezmelral. "When I embraced Faye," he admitted.
Ezmelral held his gaze, her thoughts drifting back to that moment in the cottage, shortly after they had discovered Maryal's lifeless form.
[Flashback - Eastern Forest of Dawnfall]
The cottage was silent, filled with the scents of dust and sorrow. Then, a sound broke the stillness.
"Waaaaah!"
"A baby?"
Ezmelral had asked, surprised. Raiking moved toward the sound, tearing up the floorboards to reveal a child hidden in the shadows of the crawlspace. He lifted her into his arms, and as their skin touched, a curious sense of familiarity surged through him.
"Maryal's child," he said.
"Should we bring her along, or wait for her father?"
Raiking gazed at the child, his eyes narrowing as he sensed a connection with a fragment of himself within her spirit.
"He isn't real."
Ezmelral looked at him with confusion, though she knew better than to press for an explanation. The atmosphere surrounding Raiking had thickened again, buzzing with purpose.
[Present Day - Twilight Carriage]
"Did you have any inkling back then?" Ezmelral asked quietly, her words lingering in the stillness of the carriage. Outside, clouds raced by in a blur of white and grey.
"I sensed... a resonance," Raiking confessed, his eyes settling on the Phoenix slumbering on his shoulder. He shifted slightly to avoid disturbing her. "But I didn't fully grasp its depth until the Goddess's memories unveiled the truth."
Ezmelral observed him intently, noting the way his hand hovered protectively near the sleeping bird—a gesture he would have once ridiculed a century ago.
"That's why you were truly angry with the Goddess," she realized, lowering her voice. "It wasn't just about the manipulation. You were enraged because you thought she had involved the child without Maryal's consent."
Raiking paused before responding, looking at his hands—hands that had destroyed stars, now trembling slightly at the memory of a mortal woman.
"Indeed."
That single word carried the weight of a mountain.
With this confirmation, the puzzle pieces fell into place for the Sword Spirit. She had been his blade for millennia, attuned to the rhythm of his soul and the vast, cold silence of his indifference.
But this? This was different. This was warmth.
In the past, they did not flee from boring banquets; they slaughtered the hosts to silence the noise.
In the past, they did not kidnap cows to ensure a balanced diet; they devoured the sect and moved on.
In the past, Raiking would never have risked his own cultivation to visit an injured enemy, just to ensure a child had a mother.
"I understand," Ezmelral murmured, her voice softening. The intense, threatening aura around her faded, replaced by a gentle, genuine smile. She leaned back into the plush velvet chair and closed her eyes. "A change of pace... isn't so bad."
Raiking returned a slight smile, then turned his attention back to the window, his gaze piercing through the clouds as he contemplated the hidden realm he had recently visited.
---
[The Goddess's Cultivation Chamber - Three Hours Later.]
The Secret Realm, a pocket dimension spun from pure light and tucked away within the Divine City, had lost its usual brilliance. The vibrant garden now lay in shadow, with flowers wilting and starlight flickering like a candle nearing its end.
At the heart of this garden, the Goddess of Creation rested upon a bed of woven clouds. Her situation was grave. Her arms, once golden, were scarred with deep, glowing fissures, evidence of her divinity seeping away.
Twice she had defied the Cosmic Law—first by cursing Raiking, which resulted in Faye's creation, and then for the Phoenix Pearl, which brought salvation—each act exacting a dire toll on her.
She breathed shallowly, eyes closed, accepting her suffering as rightful penance.
Despite her ability to alter the fate of stars, the judgment of the Cosmic Law was not something that could be easily erased. It was a debt that demanded repayment in the form of divine flesh.
When the pain became too intense to bear, she awoke. Her eyes opened, and she sensed a change in the atmosphere. The typical warmth of starlight had been replaced by a chilling presence—a heavy, silent pressure she hadn't encountered in ages.
"Someone was here..."
Before she could ascertain who had the audacity to breach her private dimension, her eyes landed on the floating table beside her bed.
There, bathed in light, was a crystal vial containing a peculiar, viscous black substance. It swirled like liquid night, absorbing the surrounding light.
She picked it up. There was no need for an identification spell; her soul instantly recognized the essence.
"Raiking..."
It was his essence. His blood.
Though it could not completely placate the Cosmic Law's fury, as the God of Death, Raiking possessed profound knowledge of halting the decay of existence. He was the Silence that ended the Noise.
She uncorked the vial and took a sip.
It was cold. Beautifully, bitterly cold. The sensation enveloped her not as a healing potion might, but like the calm of a deep, frozen lake swallowing a burning stone. It did not heal the wound; it commanded the pain to cease existence.
The glowing fissures on her arm began to fade, the leaking divinity sealed by the Void.
She said nothing. She simply gazed at the dark vial, feeling the lingering chill of the one who had left it, and held it close to her burning heart.