The Morning light brushed Lily’s cheek. The air was Plesant, as if this was a happy place and not

  home to a river of pain. Lily sat up to find Elias sitting in his bed roll, knees to his chest. Staring

  into the sky with a slight smile. She drew a breath, not knowing what to say.

  Elias spoke without looking at her. “I saw all they violence I've caused. All of it. To every

  person and creature. Just endless violence. I wanted it to end so badly."

  Lily sat still, her heart tight as she took in Elias’s words. His gaze was distant, fixed on the sky,

  and he looked weary in a way she’d never seen before—like he’d carried an impossible weight

  for too long.

  She shifted, moving closer to him, the soft rustling of leaves beneath her barely breaking the

  morning’s fragile quiet. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, reaching out, though she hesitated, unsure if

  he wanted her touch right now. “I—I didn’t realize how much you were holding in.”

  Elias’s shoulders rose and fell in a slow, heavy breath. “I don’t think I knew, either,” he

  admitted, his voice raw. “It’s like I’d... tucked it away, somewhere I wouldn’t have to look at it.

  But that river…” He trailed off, shuddering slightly, as if feeling the pull of it all over again. “It

  forced me to see it. Not just remember, but feel it, all over again. Every strike, every life taken.”

  A pause stretched between them as the light filtered through the trees, casting a faint glow over

  them both. Lily clasped her hands tightly in her lap, struggling to find words. “But Elias…

  you’ve been fighting for so long. Sometimes to survive, sometimes to protect others. None of it

  was… pointless.”

  He looked at her, his expression almost resigned. “Maybe. But seeing it all laid bare… it’s hard

  not to wonder. Does any of it matter in the end?” He shook his head. “The fights blend together,

  and even the victories feel hollow. It’s just… endless.”

  Lily took his hand gently, her grip firm yet soft, anchoring him. “It matters, Elias. It has to. If it

  didn’t, why would you still be here? You’re here because you’re stronger than all of that

  darkness, even if it tries to tell you otherwise.”

  Elias’s gaze softened slightly, but his expression was still strained, as if he hadn’t quite shaken

  the vision from his mind. “I used to think I could make up for it all, somehow. Balance the scales

  by helping people. But now…” He looked down at their intertwined hands. “Maybe there’s

  nothing that can erase it.”

  Lily shook her head, her voice steady. “You’re more than that violence, Elias. More than what

  that river tried to show you. I see you. The real you. And you’re worth far more than any of those

  moments.”

  He exhaled, leaning into her presence, as if her words reached the part of him still searching for

  absolution. After a moment, he squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Lily. For… everything.”

  She nodded, her eyes meeting his, holding that silent understanding. They sat there together, the

  morning sun rising over a world that somehow felt lighter, even if only by a fraction. But that

  fraction was enough to keep them moving forward.

  Lily and Elias took down their camp in silence, their movements practiced but slow, each still

  feeling the weight of the previous night’s struggle. The soft sounds of birds chirping nearby

  seemed almost foreign, a contrast to the strange, somber atmosphere lingering over them.

  Elias packed the last of his gear, his expression clouded as he glanced toward the distant flow of

  the red river. Lily noticed and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving,”

  she murmured, knowing there was little comfort she could offer beyond simply being by his side.

  They set out, walking northward with the river beside them, its water still an unsettling red hue.

  The landscape gradually transformed as they traveled, the once barren ground giving way to

  small patches of grass. New life, scattered and hesitant, seemed to be returning as they left the

  wasteland behind. They soon came upon a narrow bridge spanning the river, the wooden planks

  creaking as they stepped onto it.

  Halfway across, something in the water caught Lily’s eye, and she stopped short. Floating in the

  slow-moving current was the pale form of a man. His face was blank, eyes half-lidded and

  clouded, his body eerily still as it drifted toward them.

  Elias’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, the reality of what he’d almost become hitting him

  hard. “He must have looked into the river,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Like I did.”

  Lily swallowed, her eyes tracing the man’s lifeless figure as it passed beneath the bridge. “But he

  wasn’t as lucky,” she replied, her tone thick with unspoken sorrow. She could see how easily

  Elias’s fate might have been the same. She took his hand, squeezing it tightly, grounding both of

  them in that simple, steadying touch.

  Elias closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to block out the image. “I don’t think I’ll

  ever forget what I saw in that water, Lily. It was like being trapped… seeing every horrible thing

  I’ve done, reliving it over and over. It’s no wonder people end up like him.” His gaze followed

  the man’s body as it drifted down the river and disappeared around a bend.

  “I know,” Lily whispered, holding his hand even tighter. “But you’re here. You fought your way

  back. And maybe… maybe that’s what matters most.”

  They continued across the bridge, both glancing one last time at the spot where the man had

  disappeared. The bridge creaked beneath their feet, echoing in the silent, heavy air, and they

  stepped onto the other side with a newfound resolve.

  As they moved further from the river, the landscape became less oppressive, small patches of

  wildflowers and hints of green grass appearing between stretches of rocky soil. Birds returned in

  soft choruses, and the distant hum of insects began to fill the air.

  “Maybe it’s a good sign,” Lily said after a while, glancing at the signs of life slowly emerging

  around them. “We’re heading in the right direction.”

  Elias nodded, but his expression remained guarded. “It’s strange,” he admitted. “This world… it

  keeps giving us moments of beauty right after it’s shown us the darkest things. It’s like it’s

  reminding us of what’s at stake, just when we’re ready to give up.”

  They walked on in silence for a while, each lost in thought.

  As they ventured deeper, the forest shifted from open patches of life to a dense, oppressive maze

  of twisted trees. Their trunks were knotted and bent, branches curling in unnatural angles, with

  bark as dark as coal and leaves a sickly, muted green. The path itself was narrow, a thread of

  lighter ground in an otherwise shadow-choked wilderness, the thick canopy above blocking out

  most of the sun.

  Lily felt the weight of the forest pressing in on them, the air damp and heavy, carrying an almost

  sour smell. Every sound, every crack of a twig or whisper of wind, seemed amplified in the thick

  silence that filled the woods. Shadows clung to the trees, moving with an eerie, unnatural life of

  their own as if the forest itself were watching them.

  Elias’s hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword, his gaze sharp as he scanned their

  surroundings. “I don’t like this,” he murmured. “The forest feels… wrong.”

  Lily nodded, glancing up at the twisted branches that stretched out overhead like skeletal arms.

  “It’s almost as if the trees are closing in, leading us somewhere. We’re not in control of where

  we’re going.”

  They continued forward, stepping carefully along the narrow path. The further they went, the

  denser the forest became, the twisted trees crowding close until the path felt like a tunnel,

  suffocating and dark. The leaves above were so thick that only thin beams of light managed to

  pierce through, casting eerie patterns on the ground.

  “This path… it’s the only thing that keeps us from getting lost here,” Elias said, his voice a low

  murmur. “If we stray from it…” He didn’t finish, but they both understood the silent warning.

  Lily took a deep breath, feeling the familiar prickling tension between her shoulders. “We just

  have to keep moving,” she said, though her own voice held a slight tremor. Her hand found

  Elias’s, and they clasped fingers tightly, grounding each other as they pressed on.

  The path wound deeper, and they lost all sense of direction, each step leading them further into

  the dark heart of the forest.

  As they moved deeper into the forest, new sounds began to creep into the air—faint at first,

  barely more than a whisper carried on the wind, but unmistakable. The low, rasping sound of

  scratching drifted to them from somewhere beyond the trees, like claws raking against bark.

  Then came the soft, mournful notes of distant moans, weaving through the branches as if the

  forest itself were crying out.

  Lily froze, her grip tightening on Elias’s hand. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  Elias’s eyes narrowed as he listened, his jaw clenched. “It’s… close.” His gaze flicked toward

  the shadows between the trees, scanning for movement, but the darkness was thick and

  unyielding.

  The moans grew louder, each one a ghostly lament that rose and fell like the tide, until it sounded

  like an entire chorus of voices—angry, lost, and suffering. Now and then, a faint, high-pitched

  scream pierced the air, trailing off into a shuddering echo that made Lily’s skin crawl. She could

  almost feel the weight of each soul caught in that sound, a reminder of what she and Elias were

  walking toward.

  “There are spirits here,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “Or… something

  that’s been left behind. This forest isn’t just twisted; it’s haunted.”

  Elias nodded grimly. “These could be remnants of those who failed to escape Death’s grip.

  Those who strayed too far, maybe.”

  They continued along the path, but the sounds seemed to follow them, shifting in volume and

  direction, as if the forest itself were breathing with them, watching their every step. Now and

  then, they caught brief flickers of movement in the corner of their vision—a flash of white, the

  hint of a face, gone before they could fully make it out. Once, Lily turned her head just in time to

  catch a glimpse of hollow eyes staring at her from behind the twisted bark of a tree, only to blink

  and find the image vanished.

  Suddenly, the forest erupted in a burst of unnatural shrieks, louder than before, as if every

  trapped soul were crying out at once. Lily flinched, her heart racing, and Elias pulled her closer,

  his arms wrapping around her protectively.

  “It’s trying to scare us,” he whispered, though his own voice held an edge of unease. “We can’t

  let it break us down.”

  Lily nodded, forcing herself to breathe deeply, to steel her nerves. “We keep going,” she said,

  her voice firm. She kept her eyes on the path, refusing to let herself be distracted by the shadows,

  by the wails and whispers that filled the air around them.

  They pressed on, but the moans and scratching grew louder, a relentless, haunting symphony that

  clawed at their minds, testing their resolve with every step.

  A sudden movement high in the canopy caught their eyes. Dark, winged shapes appeared,

  perched on the uppermost branches, silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the twisted

  leaves. They were humanoid yet unmistakably inhuman—grotesque faces twisted into snarling

  grins, with wild, tangled hair framing their sharp, predatory eyes. Their wings, bat-like and

  ragged, unfurled as they settled, talons scraping deep into the bark of the trees beneath them.

  The trees shuddered, and a thick, dark sap began to seep from the gashes left by the harpies’

  claws, as if the forest itself were bleeding in agony. Each new scrape drew a fresh trickle of sap,

  and a low, groaning sound emanated from the wood, an eerie echo of pain that mingled with the

  harpies’ taunting screeches.

  One of the harpies, larger than the rest and crowned with a mane of feathers, cocked her head at

  Lily and Elias, her beady eyes glinting with malicious curiosity. She let out a piercing screech,

  her mouth stretching into a twisted grin, revealing teeth sharp as needles.

  “More meat for us!” she hissed, her voice like rusted metal scraping together. The other harpies

  joined in, their laughter echoing through the forest, shrill and bone-chilling, their claws digging

  deeper into the trees with each peal of laughter.

  “Don’t let them surround us,” Elias muttered, pulling his weapon, his gaze darting between the

  creatures above.

  Lily took a step forward, summoning a sharp, focused determination to push back the dread

  clawing at her. “They’re taunting us,” she said, her voice steady. “But they’re flesh and bone like

  anything else.”

  Another harpy swooped down, talons outstretched, aiming for Lily’s face. She ducked just in

  time, her blade slicing upward and catching the creature’s wing. It let out a shriek as it veered

  away, blood dripping from the fresh wound.

  More of the harpies took flight, circling them, a storm of dark feathers and mocking cries. Their

  nails tore at the trees as they moved, leaving deeper and deeper gashes, and the forest groaned

  louder, the wounded branches oozing even more of that dark sap.

  One harpy landed close to Elias, her talons piercing the earth as she laughed in his face. “You

  reek of fear,” she sneered, snapping her beak dangerously close to his arm.

  Elias swung his sword, barely missing her as she danced backward, her wings flapping to lift her

  back up into the branches above. “They’re fast,” he growled, glancing over at Lily, “but we’re

  not going down without a fight.”

  Lily nodded, adjusting her stance, her gaze darting between the dark figures darting overhead.

  She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, could hear their mocking whispers filling the air

  around them like a poisonous fog. But beneath her fear, something deeper began to stir—an

  anger at these creatures who sought to torment the already-suffering forest, who dared to stand in

  her way.

  With a fierce yell, she lunged toward the nearest harpy, her blade arcing through the air, and the

  battle erupted around them in a whirl of shrieks, blood, and flying feathers.

  The forest erupted in chaos as the harpies lunged and darted, their screeches tearing through the

  thick air. Branches swayed and cracked under the weight of their clawed feet, while twisted

  trunks groaned, leaking more sap like blood from an open wound. Every sound seemed

  amplified; every movement tainted with a primal malice.

  Lily spun, dodging a harpy that dived for her from above. Her sword slashed up, catching the

  creature across its leg. It shrieked, twisting in mid-air and stumbling as it tried to regain its

  balance. Blood sprayed, dark and oily, staining the forest floor. Lily barely had a moment to

  catch her breath before another came swooping down, claws extended to slash at her face.

  Elias fought at her side; his movements controlled but fierce. He struck at a harpy trying to divebomb him, his sword carving a deadly arc through the air. The creature screeched in pain as his

  blade made contact, slicing through its wing. It spiraled down, crashing into the ground in a

  flurry of feathers and thrashing limbs. Elias didn't hesitate; he drove his blade into its chest,

  ending its struggle with grim determination.

  "Stay close!" he called to Lily, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of harpy cries and

  the eerie groaning of the forest. They moved back-to-back, their breath coming in short, focused

  gasps, their eyes scanning the shadows and the branches for the next threat.

  The largest harpy, the one crowned with a halo of bedraggled feathers, remained perched high

  above, watching them with a chilling, twisted smile. Her gaze never left them, her eyes

  narrowing in on Lily with an intensity that went beyond mere hunger—it was something deeper,

  almost personal. She let out a low, guttural laugh that seemed to resonate with the wounded trees

  around them, her voice curling through the shadows like smoke.

  "Poor little heroes," she hissed. "You think you can fight us? You think you can survive *here*,

  in the forest of lost souls? This place will consume you." Her laughter echoed, mingling with the

  agonized groans of the trees, filling the air with an oppressive weight.

  Lily clenched her teeth, her grip tightening on her sword. “This forest deserves better than you

  leeches picking it apart,” she spat back. She raised her blade and took a step forward, her eyes

  locked onto the leader, challenging her.

  The harpy let out a shriek of fury, her wings unfurling as she launched herself down, diving

  straight for Lily. Her claws gleamed, sharp as blades, as she descended with deadly speed.

  Elias saw the movement and thrust his sword in the harpy’s path, but she twisted mid-air,

  slashing out at him with a swipe of her wing that forced him back. Lily took her chance. She

  surged forward, her sword flashing, and met the harpy's charge head-on. Their bodies collided,

  the impact jarring through her arms, but she forced herself to hold steady, digging her feet into

  the earth and shoving her sword up toward the creature’s heart.

  The harpy shrieked, a shrill, piercing sound that rattled Lily’s bones. Blood gushed from the

  wound, splattering across Lily’s arms and chest as she pushed deeper, her eyes blazing with a

  fierce, unyielding determination. The harpy's claws raked at her shoulder, tearing through fabric

  and flesh, but Lily didn't let go. She twisted the blade, her face inches from the harpy's,

  unflinching.

  “You don’t get to take this forest with you,” Lily hissed through gritted teeth.

  The harpy choked, her cruel grin fading as the life drained from her eyes. With a final, weak

  screech, her body slumped, and she fell limp, her form crumpling at Lily's feet. For a moment,

  all was still.

  The remaining harpies, seeing their leader’s fall, hesitated, casting nervous glances between Lily

  and Elias. Without another sound, they scattered, their wings beating a retreat into the darkness

  above, leaving only the groaning, bleeding trees behind.

  Lily and Elias stood amidst the aftermath, blood-streaked and breathing hard. The forest around

  them seemed to breathe, as if sighing in relief now that the harpies were gone. The groaning

  ceased, and the twisted branches grew still, though the dark sap continued to drip like tears onto

  the forest floor.

  Elias wiped his blade, sheathing it slowly as he looked at Lily, a mixture of relief and respect in

  his gaze. “Well… I’d say they won’t be bothering us again.”

  Lily nodded; her face grim but resolute. “This place may be haunted, but it doesn't deserve them

  preying on it.”

  They shared a quiet moment, surrounded by the wounded forest that stretched out in silence.

  There was a sense of reverence in the air, a lingering solemnity, as though the forest itself had

  watched and endured their battle. As they began to move forward again, the path before them

  seemed to open slightly, as if guiding them onward.

  The dense thicket gradually receded, and the forest parted to reveal a small clearing. At its center

  stood a single, gnarled tree, towering over them with darkened bark and limbs bent at unnatural

  angles. As they approached, an eerie stillness settled over the air, and a faint, melancholic hum

  seemed to emanate from the twisted wood.

  Lily felt an inexplicable pull, her gaze drawn to the contorted branches and the strange, almost

  human-like shape carved into the trunk. She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing as she

  scanned the tree’s surface. Patterns of knots and grooves on the bark began to resemble limbs,

  even a face, as though a person had been frozen mid-scream and bound within the wood. She

  reached out a tentative hand, stopping just short of touching it.

  “Elias,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Look closely… It’s as if this tree…

  was once a man.”

  Elias moved to her side, his brow furrowing as he examined the twisted figure locked within the

  tree’s bark. The longer he stared, the clearer the face became—frozen in horror, mouth open in a

  silent scream, the eyes hollow and sunken, as if witnessing something truly terrible. A shiver ran

  down his spine, and he swallowed, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword.

  "Magic,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Or a curse, perhaps.” He studied the tree’s tortured

  shape, the way the branches twisted and curved unnaturally, like the limbs of a man writhing in

  agony. “Something dark turned him into this…”

  Lily drew her hand back, a sense of dread settling over her. "What kind of power could do this to

  someone? And why?”

  “Power twisted by hatred, I’d wager,” Elias replied. “Only someone seeking vengeance would

  cast a spell so… personal. This isn’t just a punishment. It’s a prison.”

  A sudden gust of wind passed through the clearing, rustling the leaves, and for a moment, Lily

  thought she heard a faint, desperate whisper on the breeze—a voice begging for release. She

  glanced back at Elias, her eyes wide.

  "Do you hear that?” she asked, gripping his arm tightly.

  He nodded, his face tense. "A voice… pleading for something. For freedom… or maybe for an

  end to this suffering.” He exhaled, looking around as if expecting another danger to reveal itself

  from the shadows.

  Lily hesitated, biting her lip. "If we could do something—help him somehow—should we try?

  Or are we better off leaving this… *whoever* this is… as they are?”

  Elias looked at her, his expression conflicted. “Whatever happened here, it was dark magic

  beyond what either of us can break. We may only bring harm upon ourselves trying to undo it.

  Still… I can’t shake the feeling that whoever this was, they didn’t deserve this fate.”

  They stood in silence, staring at the tree-man, feeling the weight of his silent agony pressing on

  them both. The forest around them seemed to breathe, watching, waiting, its twisted branches

  sheltering this trapped soul as if guarding his suffering. Lily took a step back, letting her gaze

  drop.

  “Maybe he’s a warning,” she said finally, her voice barely audible. “A reminder of what could

  happen to us… if we let hatred take over.”

  Elias placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “Then let’s make sure we

  don’t end up like him. Come on, Lily. Let’s keep moving.”

  The twisted forest slowly gave way to sparse patches of dry grass, scattered like fading memories

  across the cracked earth. With each step, the trees became fewer, their twisted limbs finally

  yielding to open fields that stretched out under an unforgiving sun. The air grew hotter, heavy

  with the scent of dust, and an arid breeze whispered across the landscape, brushing against Lily

  and Elias like a ghost’s sigh.

  Soon, the fields disappeared altogether, and they found themselves standing at the edge of a vast,

  open desert. Endless sand dunes stretched to the horizon, their curves rising and falling like

  waves frozen in time. The sun hung high, blazing down with an intensity that seemed to strip

  color from the world, leaving everything in stark, muted shades of gold and ochre.

  Lily raised a hand to shield her eyes, squinting at the empty expanse before them. "How far do

  you think it goes?”

  Elias looked out over the desert, frowning. "No way to tell. It could be a day’s journey—or it

  could be weeks.” He shifted his weight, and his boot sank slightly into the loose sand. "There’s

  no shade, no cover. If Cain’s castle lies beyond this, he’s done a fine job of making sure only the

  truly determined reach it.”

  The heat radiated off the ground, warping the air in shimmering waves. Even breathing felt

  different here, as though the desert itself wanted to sap every last bit of moisture from their

  bodies. Lily adjusted her pack, feeling the familiar weight of her canteen sloshing against her

  side. They’d have to ration their water carefully here, and she knew Elias was thinking the same.

  The silence was heavy, pressing down on them like the heat. Even the insects had fallen away,

  and there was nothing alive in sight—just them, the sand, and the endless stretch of desert.

  Elias took a deep breath, the sound breaking the oppressive quiet. "This place… it’s like

  everything’s been burned away, stripped to the bone. No life, no shade. Just emptiness.”

  Lily nodded; her gaze distant. "It’s almost like the world itself has given up. Like it’s… waiting

  for something.”

  “Or someone,” Elias murmured, glancing at her. His expression was cautious, as though he

  didn’t want to say what he was thinking out loud.

  Lily glanced at him, a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "Whatever it’s waiting for, we’ll be

  the ones to face it.” She started forward, stepping onto the sand, feeling the ground shift beneath

  her.

  Elias followed, his steps steady beside hers as they moved into the heart of the desert. The heat

  pulsed around them, relentless and unforgiving. And yet, as they walked, neither looked back.

  For all the emptiness around them, they weren’t alone. Together, they pressed forward, two

  figures standing strong against the vastness of the desert, united by purpose and unspoken

  promises.

  After hours of trudging through the sweltering sands, a strange sight appeared on the horizon—a

  stark line where the heat haze seemed to end and a pale, soft color filled the air beyond. At first,

  it looked like snow, a white dusting against the endless dunes. But as they drew closer, the air

  became hazy, and a different smell reached them, bitter and sharp.

  Lily brushed her fingers over a fine layer of pale particles that had settled on her arm, then held

  them up to the light. They crumbled at her touch, leaving a faint, ashen smear across her skin. It

  wasn’t snow. It was ash, floating down like a silent snowfall, thickening as they ventured deeper

  into this strange new terrain.

  Elias reached up to swipe some of it from his face, coughing slightly as he breathed it in. "Ash,"

  he said quietly, his voice rough. "Where is it coming from?"

  Lily scanned the horizon, her gaze settling on distant, jagged peaks that seemed to cut sharply

  into the sky. They rose from the earth like broken teeth, and from their tops, faint plumes of

  smoke curled into the sky, feeding the endless fall of ash. The landscape had shifted from endless

  sand to a blackened, cracked ground, littered with rocks and charred remains of plants.

  The air grew heavier, and the ash clung to everything—skin, clothes, hair. Each step left dark

  footprints in the pale powder coating the earth.

  "Feels like walking through a graveyard," Lily murmured, her voice subdued.

  Elias nodded grimly, his eyes sweeping over the desolate, scorched land. "Whatever lives here

  has to be resilient," he said, as though trying to steel himself for what might lie ahead. "If

  anything lives here at all."

  As they moved deeper into the ashen landscape, the silence became unsettling, broken only by

  the faint, papery sound of ash drifting through the air. It felt as if the world around them was

  holding its breath, waiting.

  Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that this place had seen destruction on an unimaginable scale—

  that it had burned and crumbled under some force that left only shadows and soot in its wake.

  She wondered if this was part of Cain’s realm, or a warning of the power he wielded.

  “We’ve come so far,” she said, almost to herself, though Elias heard her.

  “We’ll get through this too,” he replied, reaching out to brush some ash from her shoulder. “It’s

  just one more part of the journey.”

  Lily met his gaze, grateful for his steady presence beside her. Together, they turned their faces

  forward, pushing on through the endless fall of ash, each step taking them closer to whatever lay

  ahead in this land of ruin and silence.

  As they continued through the field of ash, shapes began to appear in the misty white haze—

  figures rising from the ground, frozen in motion. At first, Lily thought they were just mounds or

  stones jutting from the earth, but as they drew nearer, she saw the unmistakable forms of faces,

  arms, and bodies half-buried beneath layers of ash.

  Some of the figures were on their knees, as if praying or begging for some final mercy, their

  arms outstretched or wrapped around themselves in a futile attempt to hold off the cold and

  suffocation of the ashfall. Others had fallen forward, their hands stretched toward the ground, as

  if crawling or clawing their way forward before being overcome by exhaustion and despair. The

  ash had preserved them in eerie detail—the contours of their faces, the desperation etched into

  every line, frozen forever in this deathly embrace of the landscape.

  Lily stopped in her tracks, her gaze lingering on a figure just ahead. He was a young man, his

  hands clutching at his throat, his mouth frozen open in a silent scream. The ash had settled

  thickly over him, a pale, ghostly mask hiding the last traces of his humanity.

  "They… didn’t make it out," Elias murmured, his voice hushed and thick with sorrow. He turned

  his face away from the sight, but the echo of despair remained in his eyes. "Do you think… they

  came here like us? Searching for something?”

  Lily felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ash or the bleakness of the air. She reached out to

  touch the ashen form, her fingers brushing against the frozen shape, but it crumbled away at her

  touch, leaving only a hollow shell of dust.

  “I think they did,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “Maybe they were searching for answers,

  or trying to escape something… or someone. But this land doesn’t forgive, and it doesn’t let go.”

  They walked onward, weaving between the petrified bodies as though moving through a

  cemetery. Each step was a reminder of the lives cut short here, of hopes and dreams that had

  ended in quiet, eternal stillness. The ash drifted down upon them like snow, coating their clothes,

  their skin, mingling with the sweat and grime of the journey. Every face they passed told a

  different story of loss and suffering, and the weight of it pressed heavily upon them, filling the

  silence between them with a grief they couldn’t voice.

  Finally, Elias broke the silence, his voice low and hoarse. "Promise me… that no matter what

  happens, we won’t end up like them."

  Lily turned to him, the resolve in her eyes burning through the haze. “I promise,” she said

  fiercely. “We’re getting out of this. One way or another.”

  They clasped hands, holding tight to the only warmth in this desolate wasteland. Then, with one

  last look at the frozen souls around them, they stepped forward, their footprints leaving faint

  trails in the ash-covered ground as they moved onward into the heart of darkness.

  In the distance, looming through the veil of falling ash, Cain’s fortress rose like a dark nightmare

  etched against the crimson glow of a molten sky. The castle seemed to grow from the volcanic

  rock itself, black and jagged as though it had been carved from shadow and fire. Its towers

  clawed skyward, twisted and gnarled; each one capped with crenellations that looked more like

  the open maws of creatures frozen in silent screams.

  Massive walls encircled the fortress, cracked and scorched, as though barely able to contain the

  malevolent energy within. Rivers of molten lava snaked through channels carved into the stone,

  pooling around the base of the fortress like a moat forged from the earth’s fury. The lava cast an

  eerie, flickering light that danced across the castle’s stone, staining the dark rock with shades of

  crimson and orange, as if it were alive and breathing—an infernal beast biding its time, ready to

  unleash hell upon any who dared approach.

  Gargoyles perched along the battlements; their twisted, monstrous faces frozen in expressions of

  malice. Their claws gripped the stone as though ready to leap, their eyes hollow and empty, yet

  somehow seeming to follow anyone who dared look upon them. Vines, blackened and brittle,

  clung desperately to the walls, their dead tendrils weaving through cracks and crevices, giving

  the impression that the castle had choked the life from the earth itself.

  The main tower rose highest of all, its spire piercing into the roiling clouds that swirled

  overhead. From its peak hung a single banner, torn and tattered, bearing the mark of Cain—an

  ancient, twisted symbol that seemed to writhe and shift in the flickering glow, as if unwilling to

  be bound to mere fabric. The windows, narrow and slit-like, seemed less like architectural

  features and more like the watchful eyes of the castle itself, unblinking, filled with a darkness

  that felt sentient, waiting.

  And as they drew closer, the sound of the volcano’s slow rumbling grew louder, an ominous,

  constant thrum that vibrated through the ground, resonating in their bones. Ash drifted down

  upon them in heavy waves, the sky darkening until it was difficult to tell night from day, and the

  air was thick with the acrid scent of sulfur.

  Elias stopped beside Lily, his face pale and set with grim determination. "That’s it," he said, his

  voice barely more than a whisper. "We’ve reached the end."

  But even as he spoke, the castle loomed larger, the oppressive weight of its presence settling over

  them like a shroud. In its shadow, they felt as small as insects, yet somehow, the sight of that

  ancient, accursed structure stirred something deep within Lily—a defiance, a determination that

  burned bright in the face of the darkness.

  “Let’s end this,” she murmured, her voice unwavering as they stepped forward, each step

  carrying them closer to the heart of the malevolence that awaited within Cain’s fortress.

  As they stepped into the castle, the air shifted, becoming heavy with an oppressive sense of

  history and dread. The doors groaned on their massive hinges, closing behind them with a

  finality that echoed through the grand hall. The temperature dropped noticeably, and the faint

  scent of ash was replaced by something colder, metallic—like blood and rust lingering in the air.

  The first thing that struck them was the abundance of Cain’s likeness. Towering statues flanked

  the entrance, carved with excruciating detail: Cain, clad in armor that seemed to shift between

  styles and eras, each statue capturing him in a different moment of power. One showed him with

  a sword raised high, triumphant. Another depicted him seated on a throne of bones, his gaze

  piercing, cruel. The expressions on the statues felt alive, their eyes almost mocking as Elias and

  Lily passed beneath their stone gaze.

  On the walls hung enormous paintings, each one portraying Cain in a different time. A medieval

  battlefield, where he stood amidst a sea of corpses, his hands dripping with blood. A shadowy

  council chamber, where his smirk spoke of manipulation and conquest. A modern war, where he

  loomed above a ruined city, his figure illuminated by the glow of distant explosions. The

  paintings spanned centuries, millennia even, each one showcasing Cain as an unchanging, eternal

  force. The sheer scale of his legacy was suffocating.

  Weapons lined the walls between the portraits—blades, axes, spears, and even more archaic

  instruments of death. Each bore signs of use: chipped edges, bloodstains that hadn’t fully faded,

  and scorch marks from battles long past. They weren’t decorative relics; they were tools of war,

  carried by hands that knew violence intimately. The weapons seemed to hum faintly, as if

  whispering stories of the lives they had claimed.

  Elias felt his stomach churn as his eyes flicked from one weapon to the next. It wasn’t just the

  sheer number of them—it was the realization that every blade, every spear, had likely been used

  in service of Cain’s will. “How many?” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with

  disbelief and horror. “How many lives has he taken? How long has he… existed?”

  Lily walked beside him, her expression hardening as she took it all in. There was no mistaking

  what this castle was: a monument to Cain’s endless ambition and his pride. She clenched her

  fists, her nails digging into her palms. “This isn’t just a castle,” she said, her voice low, trembling

  with barely contained anger. “It’s a shrine. To himself. To destruction.”

  As they moved deeper into the hall, the weight of the place pressed down on them. It was as

  though the walls themselves carried the burden of Cain’s actions, resonating with centuries of

  anguish and domination. Every step echoed unnaturally, the sound swallowed almost

  immediately, as if the castle didn’t want to acknowledge their presence.

  Elias stopped in front of a particularly large painting, one that seemed more recent. Cain stood at

  the edge of a burning forest, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. The trees were ablaze, and at

  his feet lay a figure—a woman, lifeless, her face half-obscured but eerily familiar. Elias turned

  away, unable to look any longer. His breathing was shallow, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “This place…” he began, his voice breaking. “It’s like walking through someone’s nightmare.

  No… someone’s obsession. Every painting, every weapon—it’s like he wants us to know. To see

  how far he’s gone. How far he’s willing to go.”

  Lily glanced at him, her expression softening for a moment. She could see the strain in his face,

  the way the darkness of the castle seemed to cling to him like a weight he couldn’t shake. “He’s

  trying to intimidate us,” she said, forcing steel into her voice. “That’s all this is. Smoke and

  mirrors.”

  But even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the unease settling in her own chest. The portraits, the

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  statues, the weapons—they weren’t just history. They were a declaration, a challenge. And for

  the first time, she felt the enormity of what they were about to face. Cain wasn’t just a man with

  a Mark. He was a force, one that had shaped this world—and others—for longer than she could

  comprehend.

  As they continued, the silence grew heavier. The oppressive presence of the castle seemed to

  grow, feeding on their fears, their doubts. And as they walked beneath the unblinking gaze of

  Cain’s many forms, both of them felt the same thing: that they were walking into the lair of

  something far greater, far darker than they had imagined.

  The great chamber loomed before them as they stepped through a pair of towering doors that

  groaned open with the weight of centuries. The room was vast, the vaulted ceiling disappearing

  into shadows that the flickering light of torches couldn’t reach. The air was thick, charged with

  an almost electric tension, and the sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the vastness,

  leaving only an eerie silence.

  At the far end of the chamber, seated on a throne of bone and steel, was Cain.

  The throne itself was a macabre masterpiece. Jagged bones, polished to an unnatural sheen,

  intertwined with twisted bands of blackened steel. Skulls adorned its edges, their hollow eyes

  seeming to watch Lily and Elias as they approached. The steel glimmered faintly, as if alive with

  the essence of the battles it had witnessed. It was a throne built for dominance, for a ruler who

  thrived on chaos and fear.

  And on that throne, Cain sat, a picture of unsettling calm. His form was shrouded in black, the

  fabric of his cloak moving subtly as though alive. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped over

  the side of the throne, the other resting lightly on the hilt of a massive blade that leaned against

  him. His face was sharp and angular, timeless and pale, as if untouched by the years. But it was

  his smile that drew their attention.

  It stretched unnaturally wide, a grin that threatened to sever his face, filled with malice and

  mockery. His teeth gleamed like polished daggers, and his eyes, dark and fathomless, gleamed

  with a cruel intelligence. It wasn’t just a smile—it was a weapon, cutting through the air with its

  malevolent intent.

  “Well, well,” Cain said, his voice a silken purr that echoed unnaturally in the vast chamber. “The

  Thorn and her shadow. How far you’ve come. How much you’ve suffered. And yet, here you

  stand. Impressive.”

  Lily felt a surge of anger rise in her chest, but she forced it down, stepping forward to meet his

  gaze. “We didn’t come here for your praise, Cain,” she said, her voice steady despite the weight

  of his presence. “We came for answers. For the truth.”

  Cain chuckled, a low, rolling sound that sent a chill down her spine. “Answers?” he repeated,

  leaning forward slightly. “Truth? Oh, Lily, my dear, you’ve been chasing ghosts if you think

  either of those things will bring you peace.”

  Elias shifted beside her, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his blade. “You’ve left

  nothing but ruin behind you, Cain,” he said, his voice sharp with barely contained rage. “Your

  games, your manipulations—what’s the point of it all? What do you want?”

  Cain’s smile grew impossibly wider, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “What I *want*? Oh,

  my boy, I’ve already won. I’ve had centuries to perfect my art, to carve my name into the fabric

  of existence itself. *This*,” he gestured to the throne, to the chamber, to the world beyond, “is

  merely the stage. And you… you are my latest actors.”

  Lily took another step forward, her fists clenched. “We’re not your pawns, Cain,” she said, her

  voice firm. “Whatever game you’re playing, it ends here.”

  Cain leaned back in his throne, his laughter booming through the chamber. “Oh, Lily, my sweet,

  fiery Thorn. You truly believe that, don’t you? That you can simply march in here, throw down

  your gauntlet, and end *me*?” His grin faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “You’ve

  fought the Sins. You’ve faced the Horsemen. And yet, you still don’t understand. This isn’t a

  game you can win.”

  Lily’s heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to show fear. “Then why let us get this far?

  Why not stop us sooner?”

  Cain’s expression softened into something almost resembling pity, though his eyes remained

  sharp. “Because, my dear, the journey was the point. Every step, every loss, every choice—it’s

  all led you here. To *me*.” He rose from his throne, his presence towering, his grin returning

  with a predatory edge. “And now, Lily, the Thorn, bearer of the Marks, we see if you’ve truly

  learned anything at all.”

  Cain circled them slowly, his towering form casting long, jagged shadows across the chamber.

  The faint, metallic scrape of his blade against the stone floor echoed like a death knell. His grin

  softened as he turned inward, his voice calm but heavy with ancient sorrow.

  “Do you know what it means to bear a Mark, Lily?” he began, his tone quiet but resonant,

  drawing their attention like a flame in the dark. “To carry something so deeply etched into your

  very soul that it defines you? That it becomes you?”

  He stopped in front of his throne, resting his massive blade against the ground and leaning on it

  like a staff. “You call me Cain, and rightly so. I was born with this name, and it’s the only thing

  time hasn’t stripped from me. My Mark, however… that came later.”

  Cain’s eyes grew distant, as though staring beyond the walls, beyond time itself. “I was just a

  man once. A farmer. A brother. You know the story, I’m sure, even in your world. A moment of

  rage, a single act of betrayal, and there it was—the Mark. I thought… no, I *hoped* it was a

  punishment, something that could be redeemed. Maybe if I did enough good, the Mark would

  forgive me. Maybe it would leave.”

  He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “So, I tried. Oh, how I tried. I saved people, built towns,

  carved nations from the wilderness. For a time, I thought it was working. The world grew better

  around me. The land flourished. But the Mark… the Mark doesn’t forgive, Lily. It doesn’t forget.

  And it doesn’t let go.”

  Cain’s grip tightened on the hilt of his blade, his voice lowering. “Instead, the Marks spread.

  People whispered of me, of my deeds, of the cursed man who could never die. The legend of

  Cain grew with every generation. And I… I grew tired. Tired of being everyone’s hero, their

  villain, their god. So, I stopped.”

  His gaze hardened, his grin gone now, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “I found a

  wife, someone who didn’t know the legend. Someone who loved me for who I was, not for what

  I could do. We built a life together. Simple. Quiet. For a while, I thought I’d found peace.”

  He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “But the years passed. She grew older, and I

  didn’t. I watched her hair turn gray, her hands grow frail, her laughter fade. And when she finally

  left this world, I stood at her grave, untouched by time, alone.”

  Cain’s eyes locked onto Lily, and in that moment, she saw something in him she hadn’t

  expected—anguish. Deep, unending anguish. “Years turned to decades. Decades to centuries. It

  didn’t matter who I saved, who I conquered, or who I loved. In the end, it was always the same.

  Always me. Always alone.”

  He straightened, his voice rising with a sharp edge. “So I stopped pretending. If the Mark

  wouldn’t forgive me, then I would become what it wanted me to be. The bearer of power. The

  symbol of betrayal and ambition. The architect of legends.”

  Cain’s grin returned, sharp and cold. “And here we are. Two wandering souls, chasing truths you

  don’t even understand. You’ve seen what the Marks do, Lily. How they twist and bind. How

  they consume. Tell me… how long before you find yourself sitting on a throne like mine,

  surrounded by the bones of everything you once cared for?”

  His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lily clenched her fists, feeling the weight of

  his gaze as Elias stepped closer, his presence a quiet but firm anchor beside her.

  The chamber erupted in a clash of steel, the sound reverberating off the bone-and-steel throne

  behind Cain. Lily moved like a shadow, her daggers flashing with deadly precision. Elias,

  wielding his sword with practiced strength, struck blow after blow against Cain, who deflected

  them with a dancer’s grace. Despite his imposing size, Cain’s movements were fluid, precise,

  and devastating.

  “You’re persistent,” Cain said, parrying a thrust from Elias before twisting to avoid Lily’s strike

  aimed at his neck. “I admire that. It’s almost a shame.”

  “Save your speeches!” Elias growled; his voice strained as he bore down on Cain with all his

  strength. The clash of their blades sent sparks flying, lighting the chamber in bursts of light and

  shadow.

  Cain grinned, sidestepping and forcing Elias off balance. But before he could press the

  advantage, Lily lunged at his exposed side. Cain blocked her effortlessly, twisting her dagger out

  of her hand and sending it skittering across the floor.

  “You’re quick,” Cain remarked, his voice calm despite the exertion. “But you fight like you’re

  afraid.”

  Lily’s eyes blazed, and she surged forward again, this time feinting left before diving low. Her

  second dagger struck true, slicing a shallow wound along Cain’s side. He hissed but countered

  immediately, forcing her back with a sweep of his massive blade.

  Elias saw his chance and charged, his sword cutting through the air in a wide arc. The blade

  slashed across Cain’s chest, tearing through fabric and leaving a crimson trail. Cain staggered

  slightly, his grin faltering as he looked down at the wound.

  “Well,” he muttered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “That’s annoying.”

  He reached up and ripped his shirt away, exposing his chest and arms. Lily and Elias froze for a

  moment, their breaths catching in their throats. Cain’s entire torso and arms were covered in

  Marks—hundreds of them, overlapping and interwoven, a chaotic tapestry burned into his skin.

  They glowed faintly in the dim light, each Mark alive with its own subtle energy.

  “You see this?” Cain gestured to the Marks, his voice cold and sharp now. “Every line. Every

  symbol. Every scar. These aren’t decorations. They’re earned. Thousands of years. Thousands of

  lives. Every experience, every triumph, every loss—burned into me forever.”

  He stepped forward, his presence filling the room like a storm. “You think you know suffering?

  You think you understand power? Your children playing with fire. And I am the inferno.”

  Lily’s heart pounded in her chest. The sight of his Marks was almost overwhelming—each one

  seemed to pulse with a different story, a different power. It was both awe-inspiring and

  horrifying. Cain was not just a man. He was an embodiment of the Marks themselves.

  Elias gritted his teeth, his knuckles white around his sword’s hilt. “Maybe you’re everything you

  say you are, Cain. But you’re not invincible.”

  Cain’s grin returned, razor-sharp and full of menace. “Then prove it.”

  With that, the fight resumed, more intense and brutal than before. Cain’s attacks were faster, his

  strength seemingly amplified by the Marks etched into his flesh. But Elias and Lily fought

  together, their movements instinctively in sync, their resolve unshaken. This battle wasn’t just

  about survival—it was about proving that even the mightiest legends could fall.

  The fight raged on, each blow a test of will and endurance. Cain’s grin was a constant as if he

  were merely toying with them, though his strikes were deadly precise. Every now and then, he

  would raise a hand or murmur a word, and another Mark would flare to life.

  Elias charged at him; his sword raised high. Cain met the blade with his own, the clash of steel

  reverberating like a scream through the chamber. As their weapons locked, Cain smirked and

  muttered something under his breath. A Mark on his forearm blazed red, and a blast of heat

  surged outward, forcing Elias to stumble back.

  “Pyromancy,” Cain said casually, spinning his blade with ease. “Learned it from a king whose

  castle I burned to the ground. One of my earlier conquests. It’s a classic.”

  Lily darted in from the side, her daggers aiming for his ribs. But before she could land a strike,

  Cain’s free hand snapped toward her, fingers twisting in an arcane gesture. A Mark on his palm

  glowed bright blue, and an invisible force slammed into her like a tidal wave, sending her flying

  across the room. She landed hard, gasping as the air was knocked from her lungs.

  “Telekinesis,” Cain remarked as he turned back to Elias, who was already rushing toward him

  again. “Taught by a hermit who thought he could best me in isolation. A shame, really—he was

  talented.”

  Elias’s sword struck again, but Cain sidestepped with unnatural speed. Another Mark, this one

  on his shoulder, flared silver, and his movements became a blur. He was suddenly behind Elias,

  his blade grazing the warrior’s side before Elias could even turn.

  “Enhanced reflexes,” Cain said with a shrug. “That one was… a gift.”

  Lily pulled herself to her feet, her eyes blazing with determination. She refused to let Cain’s

  overwhelming power intimidate her. She knew they couldn’t outmatch him in sheer strength, but

  together, they might find a way.

  She and Elias locked eyes for a brief moment, and without a word, they moved as one. Elias

  charged straight at Cain, forcing him to focus on the incoming sword, while Lily darted low and

  fast, aiming for his legs.

  Cain’s sword clashed with Elias’s again, and for a moment, he didn’t notice Lily slipping in

  behind him. Her dagger sank into the back of his knee, and he let out a hiss of pain, stumbling

  slightly.

  “That’s more like it,” Cain said, his grin turning savage. “You’re learning.”

  But his tone grew darker as a new Mark on his chest began to glow. The air around him turned

  icy, frost spreading outward in a wave. Lily and Elias both recoiled as the cold seeped into their

  bones.

  “Cryomancy,” Cain said, his breath visible in the sudden chill. “Another king. Another kingdom.

  I’ve lived lifetimes, gathered powers you couldn’t dream of. And yet here you are, still

  standing.”

  Lily’s teeth chattered as she forced herself to her feet. “We’re not just standing,” she growled,

  her voice filled with defiance. “We’re fighting.”

  Elias stepped up beside her, his sword still steady in his grip despite the frost clinging to it. “And

  we’re not giving up. No matter how many Marks you have.”

  Cain chuckled, his grin never faltering. “Good. I’d hate for this to get boring.”

  The Marks on his body began to glow in sequence, each one briefly illuminating the room with a

  different hue. It was a warning—a reminder that he hadn’t even begun to unleash his full power.

  For all his strength, Cain didn’t realize that for Elias and Lily, every new display of his might

  only deepened their resolve. They were bruised, battered, and exhausted, but they were far from

  broken. Together, they would fight until the very end.

  The battle surged on, each clash of weapons sending sparks flying in the dimly lit chamber. Cain

  moved like a tempest; his every strike infused with the power of centuries. The glow of his

  Marks painted the air around him, each flash signaling another devastating ability unleashed.

  Elias and Lily fought with everything they had. They moved like a single force, their attacks

  synchronized, each covering the other’s weaknesses. Elias pressed Cain from the front, his sword

  ringing against Cain’s blade, while Lily danced around him, darting in with her daggers to

  exploit openings.

  Cain remained an immovable presence, his laughter echoing through the hall. A Mark on his left

  hand flared, and a surge of black tendrils erupted from the ground, snaking toward Lily. She

  spun away, narrowly avoiding them, but the distraction gave Cain just enough time to slam the

  hilt of his sword into Elias’s chest, knocking him backward.

  “You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that,” Cain said, turning toward Lily as she launched another

  attack. “But skill will only get you so far.”

  Lily feinted to the right before striking left, her dagger aiming for his ribs. Cain parried with

  almost lazy precision, a Mark on his forearm flaring to life as his sword’s edge seemed to

  shimmer and extend, forcing her back.

  Elias recovered and charged in again, his blade cutting through the black tendrils still writhing on

  the floor. He swung for Cain’s exposed side, but the older man pivoted with inhuman speed,

  countering with a downward slash that Elias barely managed to block.

  Lily seized the moment, lunging for Cain’s blind spot. Her blade found its mark, sinking into his

  side. Cain grunted in pain, but instead of retreating, he grabbed her wrist with a crushing grip. A

  Mark on his chest flared, and a pulse of force sent her flying across the room, her weapon torn

  from her hand.

  “Nice try,” Cain said, his voice dripping with amusement. “But you’ll have to do better than

  that.”

  Elias roared in fury, attacking with a flurry of strikes that pushed Cain back a step. Their swords

  clashed with relentless force, the sound reverberating like thunder. Cain’s smirk faltered for a

  moment as Elias pressed harder, his strikes becoming faster, more unpredictable.

  But then it happened.

  Lily, scrambling to rejoin the fight, misjudged her footing. The floor beneath her was slick with

  blood, and her boot slipped. She stumbled forward, her balance lost. The distraction was slight

  but critical.

  Cain saw it.

  He parried Elias’s next strike with brutal efficiency, then spun on his heel. His sword moved

  with blinding speed, its point finding Elias’s chest. The blade pierced through armor and flesh,

  the impact forcing Elias backward. His sword clattered to the ground as he gasped, his eyes wide

  with shock.

  “Elias!” Lily screamed; her voice raw with anguish.

  Cain’s expression shifted to something almost serene as he withdrew the blade, letting Elias

  collapse to his knees. Blood poured from the wound, staining the cold stone beneath him. Cain

  stepped back, his gaze moving to Lily.

  “I warned you,” Cain said softly, almost pityingly. “I’ve lived lifetimes. You’ve only just

  begun.”

  Lily rushed to Elias’s side, dropping to her knees beside him. She pressed her hands to the

  wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. Tears streamed down her face as Elias struggled to

  breathe, his hand weakly gripping hers.

  “Stay with me,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please, don’t leave me. Not now.”

  Cain watched, his expression unreadable, as Lily’s despair filled the chamber.

  Lily’s hands trembled as she pressed against Elias’s chest, his shallow breaths weak and ragged

  beneath her touch. She could feel him slipping away, and a scream of rage and despair built in

  her throat.

  When Cain spoke, his voice was smooth, infuriatingly calm. “He was slowing you down

  anyway. Consider it a kindness.”

  Her scream tore free as she surged to her feet. The Mark of the Sin Eater on her hand burned like

  fire, its black lines pulsing. She glared at Cain, hatred sharpening every line of her face. “You

  don’t get to decide that.”

  Cain raised an eyebrow, his sword still slick with Elias’s blood. “And what are you going to do,

  little Thorn? Flail at me until you fall apart?”

  Lily didn’t answer. She lunged at him, her dagger slicing through the air. Cain deflected the blow

  effortlessly, his strength and speed far outmatching hers. But as their weapons clashed, the Mark

  of the Sin Eater pulsed again. A strange heat surged through Lily’s veins as one of Cain’s Marks

  dimmed. For a moment, he faltered.

  Lily staggered back, feeling something new coursing through her—a power foreign and

  overwhelming. She swung her arm forward, intending to release it, and a blast of wind howled

  through the chamber, knocking Cain back a step.

  Cain’s smirk vanished. “Ah,” he said, his tone growing colder. “So, the Sin Eater awakens. Do

  you even know what you’ve taken?”

  “No,” Lily admitted, her voice sharp and angry. “But I’ll use it to tear you apart.”

  Cain laughed, stepping toward her. “You can only wield one at a time, girl. That’s the flaw of

  your little Mark. You think you’re a threat because you borrowed a fragment of my strength?

  Fine—take it.” He slammed his fist into his own chest, and the stolen Mark snapped back into

  him. “Try again.”

  The Mark on Lily’s hand burned as she stole another power. Her vision flickered as the sensation

  of weightlessness filled her. She leapt high into the air, Cain’s sword slicing through empty

  space where she had been. With surprising grace, she landed behind him and swung her dagger

  toward his back.

  Cain twisted, catching her blade with his own. He pushed her back, sending her stumbling.

  “You’re clumsy with it,” he taunted. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Every new Mark will

  take longer to master. You’ll burn yourself out before you even scratch me.”

  Lily growled, the Mark flashing again as it returned the power. Her arm trembled as she reached

  for another. Her body screamed in protest at the strain, but she pushed through the pain. Shadows

  gathered around her feet and surged forward in jagged lines. She directed them with a sweep of

  her hand, but the tendrils were slow, unrefined. Cain dodged with ease, his laughter echoing off

  the stone walls.

  “You don’t even know what that one does!” he mocked, weaving through her clumsy attack.

  “You’re a child playing with fire.”

  Cain pressed forward; his strikes unrelenting. Lily’s limbs felt heavy, each swing of her dagger

  slower than the last. She could feel the Mark of the Sin Eater straining, its power not meant to be

  used in such quick succession.

  But she couldn’t stop. Not with Elias lying behind her. Not with Cain still standing.

  “You can’t win, Lily,” Cain said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t have the discipline,

  the control. These Marks are etched into my skin—they’re mine. You’ll never be strong enough

  to take them.”

  Lily roared, stealing another power and unleashing a burst of fire that flared too wide, scorching

  the walls but leaving Cain untouched. The backlash sent her reeling, her vision darkening at the

  edges. She collapsed to one knee, her breaths ragged, her body wracked with pain.

  Cain stood over her, his sword resting on his shoulder. “You’re not ready for this fight, little

  Thorn,” he said, his smile returning. “But you’re welcome to keep trying—until you break.”

  Lily pushed herself to her feet, her body trembling from the strain. The chamber seemed to close

  in on her, the oppressive heat of Cain’s volcanic castle mingling with her own exhaustion. Every

  muscle screamed in protest, and her Mark of the Sin Eater burned like a brand on her hand. But

  her determination didn’t waver.

  Cain watched her with calm amusement, his sword resting lazily at his side. “Still standing? I’ll

  give you credit for sheer stubbornness, if nothing else.”

  Lily surged forward again, her dagger slashing in a blur of red and silver. This time, she landed a

  strike across his chest, cutting deep enough to draw blood. For a fleeting moment, hope ignited

  in her. But it was snuffed out as quickly as it had appeared. The wound closed almost instantly,

  the Mark of Regeneration glowing faintly on Cain’s skin.

  “See?” Cain said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’re fighting an endless battle. You

  could carve me into pieces, and I’d still put myself back together.” He gestured to his chest, now

  unblemished. “I earned this Mark centuries ago, and it has never failed me.”

  Lily gritted her teeth, slashing again and again. Every strike found its mark—his arm, his side,

  his leg—but each wound vanished in seconds, leaving her panting and desperate. Meanwhile, her

  own injuries began to mount. A cut on her arm throbbed with each heartbeat, and her ribs ached

  from where he’d thrown her earlier.

  “You’re slowing down,” Cain noted, almost conversationally. He parried her next attack with

  ease, sending her stumbling. “Even if you could steal this Mark from me, it would take time to

  master, time to understand its limits. And time,” he added with a grin, “is something you don’t

  have.”

  Lily roared in frustration, her dagger glowing faintly as she stole another Mark—this time, one

  of enhanced strength. Her next blow slammed into Cain’s side, forcing him to stagger. But the

  victory was short-lived. He recovered quickly, slashing her across the shoulder and sending her

  spinning to the ground.

  “Lily!” Elias’s weak voice cut through the chaos. She turned her head, seeing him struggle to sit

  up, blood still soaking his shirt. The sight of him alive and conscious gave her a flicker of hope,

  but it was buried under the weight of her failure. She couldn’t protect him. She couldn’t even

  protect herself.

  Cain loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole. “You fought bravely, I’ll give you that.

  But bravery isn’t enough.” He raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light. “Now, stay

  down. This is mercy.”

  Lily refused to close her eyes. If she was going to die, she would face it head-on. But deep in her

  heart, despair gnawed at her. Every advantage she’d tried to take, every blow she’d landed, had

  been undone. Cain was unstoppable, an ancient force of nature.

  All seemed lost.

  Lily watched in horror as Elias, his face pale and bloodied, staggered to his feet behind Cain. His

  movements were slow, labored, but determined. She opened her mouth to scream for him to stop,

  but no sound came out. Her body refused to move, paralyzed by exhaustion and despair.

  With a final burst of strength, Elias plunged his sword through Cain’s back. The blade erupted

  from Cain’s chest, slick with blood, and for the first time, the unshakable Cain faltered. His head

  snapped forward, and his grin vanished.

  Lily’s breath caught as hope, fragile and flickering, dared to take root.

  Cain’s voice came, low and guttural. “You…” He turned slowly, yanking himself off the blade

  with an agonizing groan. Elias collapsed, his sword falling from his limp fingers. His eyes glazed

  over as he hit the ground, lifeless.

  “Elias!” Lily’s scream tore through the chamber, filled with raw, unfiltered anguish. She crawled

  toward him, but Cain’s presence loomed over her like a storm.

  Cain staggered, clutching the gaping wound in his chest. Blood poured freely, staining the floor,

  but his lips curled into a twisted grin. “He gave it everything he had,” Cain said, his voice hoarse.

  “All that passion, all that fire. And for what?”

  Lily’s hand found her dagger, her grief transmuting into pure rage. She lunged, her blade

  plunging into Cain’s chest with every ounce of strength she could muster. The tip pierced his

  heart, and for a moment, Cain’s eyes widened. He stumbled back, clutching at the dagger

  embedded in his chest.

  But then, he laughed.

  It started low, a rumble deep in his throat, but it grew, echoing off the chamber walls like a

  thunderclap. He yanked the dagger free, blood spurting from the wound, and tossed it aside.

  “You think this changes anything?” he said, his voice mocking. “You think *this* is enough to

  kill me?”

  The wounds—the sword through his chest, the dagger to his heart—were devastating. Any

  mortal man would have been dead ten times over. But as Lily watched, the impossible happened

  again: the gashes began to close, the blood slowed, and Cain stood straighter. His grin returned,

  sharper and crueler than ever.

  “I told you, "He said, spreading his arms to show his unmarred chest. “I am Cain. I am cursed to

  live, no matter what you do. I have survived millennia of pain and bloodshed. What makes you

  think you can stop me?”

  Lily’s knees buckled, her dagger falling from her trembling hand. The realization crushed her

  like a tidal wave. He was truly immortal. She had thrown everything at him, and it hadn’t been

  enough.

  Cain took a step toward her, his shadow swallowing her completely. “Now, little Thorn,” he said,

  his tone dripping with amusement. “What will you do? Your partner is dead. Your strength is

  gone. And you—” He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, “—you are alone.”

  For the first time in her journey, Lily’s resolve wavered.

  Before the wound from Elias could fully close, Lily’s hand shot out, trembling with

  determination. She invoked the Sin Eater Mark, her body glowing with its dark energy. A cold

  wave rushed through her as Cain’s Mark—the *Mark of Cain*—ripped itself free from him. The

  glowing sigil burned through the air, searing her vision, before slamming into her chest.

  Cain’s body convulsed violently. The gaping wound in his torso, no longer bound by the Mark’s

  immortality, tore wider. Blood poured freely as his skin began to sag and wrinkle, his once-vital

  form decaying before her eyes. His muscles wasted away, leaving only a gaunt, withering shell.

  Yet, through the agony, Cain laughed—a guttural, broken sound that reverberated through the

  room.

  “Yes!” he rasped, his voice triumphant despite his crumbling body. “It’s gone! I’m free at last!”

  His skeletal hand clawed weakly at the ground as his flesh disintegrated, but his grin never

  faltered. “The curse… the endless years… no more!”

  Lily, kneeling and gasping for air, clutched her chest. The Mark of Cain seared her skin from the

  inside, a weight she couldn’t describe—a crushing, eternal burden. Her heartbeat thundered in

  her ears as the room swayed around her. Pain lanced through her ribs, radiating outward, each

  pulse like molten iron coursing through her veins.

  “No, no, no!” she whispered desperately, panic rising as she held out her trembling hand toward

  Cain. She called upon the Sin Eater’s power, trying to return the Mark to him. It flickered for a

  moment, a faint glow sparking on his withering chest, but then the Mark dimmed and stayed

  firmly embedded in her own skin.

  Cain’s laughter only grew louder, his voice thin and rasping as his body continued to decay. “It

  won’t work, girl!” he gasped, blood and spit flying with his words. His bones cracked as they

  shifted under his collapsing form. “The Mark doesn’t just return… it doesn’t *leave*! It

  chooses… and now, it’s yours.”

  “No!” Lily screamed, clawing at her chest, her nails digging into her skin as if she could tear it

  free. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring as tears stung her eyes. She tried

  again, forcing the Sin Eater Mark to obey her will. But the Mark of Cain didn’t budge—it stayed

  locked within her, radiating an unbearable heat.

  Cain slumped against the cold floor, his body now skeletal, his eyes hollow sockets. Yet his grin

  remained, a deathless smirk etched into his face. “You’ll see,” he whispered, voice faint as a

  sigh. “You’ll see what it’s like… to carry eternity.”

  His head tilted back, and with one last wheezing laugh, his body crumbled into ash and dust,

  scattering across the chamber.

  Lily fell forward, catching herself with trembling arms, the weight of the Mark pressing her

  down. She looked to Elias, sprawled lifeless on the floor, his sword still wet with Cain’s blood.

  “Elias,” she choked, tears blurring her vision. Her voice broke as she crawled to him, clutching

  his hand.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please come back. I—I didn’t say it. I didn’t get to

  say I love you.”

  But there was no response. His body was still, his skin pale. The chamber was silent except for

  the echo of her sobs.

  As the weight of the Mark of Cain settled into Lily’s chest, the realization hit her like a

  thunderclap. This was no accident, no twist of fate. This was his plan.

  The Mark pulsed within her, a cruel tether anchoring her to something far greater than she

  understood. Her chest heaved as her mind raced, piecing together the shards of truth scattered

  across her journey—the Marks she’d gained, the trials she’d endured, and the choices she’d

  made. Every step had led her here, to this moment.

  This was what Cain had wanted all along.

  The chamber was eerily still, except for the soft hiss of ash falling from the distant ceiling. Lily

  clutched Elias's lifeless hand, trembling. Her gaze darted to the space where Cain had crumbled,

  where only dust and faint echoes of his laughter remained.

  “No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The truth clawed at her, wrapping around her

  like a noose. “This can’t be. He wouldn’t…”

  But he would.

  Her eyes widened as she replayed his words in her mind—every cryptic remark, every mocking

  grin. He had never truly fought to win. Every strike, every power he unleashed, had been

  calculated, pushing her closer to desperation, forcing her hand.

  “This was it,” she choked, her voice rising in a mixture of fury and despair. “This was the point

  of all of it. The Sins, the Horsemen, the Marks… all of it. All of it was to free him!”

  The ash around her swirled, the weight of the Mark suffocating her. She pressed her hand to her

  chest, feeling the sinister pulse of the ancient curse now embedded in her. It burned with a

  twisted vitality, its presence insidious, spreading through her veins like venom.

  Elias’s lifeless form lay before her, his sacrifice a cruel punctuation mark to Cain’s victory. She

  turned to his face, brushing back his dark hair with trembling fingers. “He used me,” she

  murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of betrayal. “He used all of us. All of this. For

  centuries… he waited. And I—”

  Her teeth clenched, and a guttural scream tore from her throat as the truth overwhelmed her. Cain

  hadn’t just manipulated her—he had orchestrated her journey, bending her pain, her resolve, and

  her need for answers into the perfect tool.

  Her mind raced back to his laughter in the final moments, the triumphant look on his decaying

  face as the Mark left him. He hadn’t begged, hadn’t pleaded. He had *cheered*. He had waited

  an eternity to be free from this curse. And in her desperate attempt to end his reign, she had

  played directly into his hands.

  Lily’s nails dug into the cold stone floor as the weight of her failure bore down. She had thought

  she was taking revenge, claiming justice for herself and everyone Cain had wronged. But all

  along, she had been his final pawn in a game she never knew she was playing.

  Lily lay motionless, the Mark of Cain pulsing like a second heartbeat, a cruel reminder of what

  she had done. Her body ached, her mind reeled, but above all, her soul felt hollow. She stared at

  Elias's lifeless body, his stillness more painful than any wound she had ever endured.

  Then, the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber.

  Lily’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred from tears. At first, she thought it might be Cain,

  laughing as he returned to torment her from beyond death. But no. The figure was cloaked, a

  shadow moving with purpose and grace.

  It was Death.

  He stood tall above her, his presence cold but not menacing. His scythe, as dark as the void,

  rested at his side. For a moment, he simply gazed down at her, his expression unreadable beneath

  the hood. Lily felt a flicker of hope, a desperate, broken hope.

  “Take me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… just take me. End this.”

  Death tilted his head, almost as if considering her request. But then he slowly knelt, his attention

  shifting from her to Elias. A hand, pale and skeletal, extended toward Elias’s face. Lily’s breath

  caught as Death’s touch lingered, not cruelly, but gently. It was not a claim—it was a moment of

  mourning.

  “He doesn’t deserve this,” Lily choked out. “He doesn’t… I deserve it. Take me instead.”

  Death remained silent, his hand still resting on Elias, as if sharing a wordless lament for the

  fallen warrior. Then, without a sound, he stood. He turned from her, his scythe glinting faintly in

  the dim light, and walked away.

  “No…” Lily whimpered, dragging herself to her knees. “No, come back! Don’t leave him like

  this! Don’t leave *me* like this!”

  But Death didn’t look back. His form vanished into the shadows, leaving only the faint scent of

  ash and the weight of his presence behind.

  Lily’s hands trembled as she crawled to Elias. She cupped his face, willing him to wake, but his

  features were serene, unyielding. Her tears fell freely now, staining his dark hair.

  For what felt like an eternity, she knelt there. But something inside her shifted—a numbness

  spreading through her, dulling her sorrow and anger into something colder, harder. She looked

  around the grand chamber, its walls lined with weapons and Cain’s grotesque legacy.

  Her gaze fell upon the throne.

  Shaking, she dragged herself to her feet, the Mark of Cain still throbbing in her chest like a

  brand. Step by step, she approached the throne, her legs barely carrying her. When she reached

  it, she placed a trembling hand on the cold steel and bone.

  This was it. The seat of Cain’s power. Now hers.

  Lily lowered herself onto the throne, her hands gripping its arms tightly. She sat upright, her

  back straight despite the pain wracking her body. Her gaze was hollow, her expression

  unreadable.

  The castle was silent, save for the faint hum of the volcano beyond its walls. The ash continued

  to fall, but within her, the storm raged on.

  She was no longer Lily the Thorn, the girl who had fought to survive, who had dared to hope.

  She was the bearer of the Mark of Cain, sitting upon a throne of despair and power.

  And there, in the vast emptiness of the chamber, she whispered to herself, her voice barely

  audible:

  “I didn’t get to say it.”