Malvane was breaking.
Not gracefully.
He didn't shatter like glass; he splintered like rotten wood.
The ritual was gone.
The cathedral's stolen radiance lay in flickering shards.
The false paladins had collapsed into unconscious men.
The clergy, once puppets, blinked tearfully as the chokehold on their minds released.
But Malvane?
He could not return to what he was.
Power wouldn't answer him anymore. Faith refused to listen. Prayer didn't echo.
When he tried to stand, his legs rattled like he no longer belonged to himself.
He wasn't hurt physically.
He was emptied.
He had built identity on being obeyed, being revered, being right, being chosen…
…and now all that authority hung over him as a tattered cloak that refused to settle back onto his shoulders.
He tried to gather light.
Nothing came.
He tried to draw strength.
Nothing returned.
He tried to speak like an Archbishop.
Only a frightened man answered.
---
Aiden approached slowly.
This wasn't triumph. There was no satisfaction on his face.
Just the quiet ache of seeing a man who chose to drown…
and now realized the water was cold.
"Malvane," Aiden said quietly. "It's over."
Malvane lifted his head.
He still tried to smile.
Of course he did.
A man who lived so long performing holiness didn't know how to stop acting.
His voice shook as he forced confidence like a mask back on.
"No. You don't… you don't understand. I was meant for more. This city… this faith… they need me. I can still… still… fix it… I can–"
He reached for faith again. Grasped.
And came up empty.
The mask slipped.
Terror bled through.
---
Liora watched him.
Her angel-blood recoiled, not out of pity or anger—
but because this was what happened when mortals decided they deserved godhood more than humility.
He hadn't just abused faith.
He had insulted it.
She swallowed hard.
Even she didn't know yet why it hurt to see.
---
Seris wiped exhaustion from her face, hands still faintly sparking with lingering magic. She didn't speak. Didn't mock. Didn't judge.
She simply watched a man realize the divine could live without him.
---
And above everything, Caelum leaned in the unseen.
His amusement dimmed.
He'd enjoyed the spectacle, yes. But this part?
This was always the quiet tragedy.
Mortals could endure pain. They could endure punishment. They could endure wounds.
What they rarely endured…
was irrelevance.
He sighed.
"What a mess you made for yourself," he murmured softly. "And now you're surprised it stains."
Still, he remained.
Because even fallen angels do not look away when judgment is about to fall.
---
Inkaris stepped closer.
Not as a savior.
Not as doom.
As inevitability.
He studied Malvane the way one might study a broken instrument — with the detached knowledge that repairs were impossible.
"The Duchess wished this resolved," he said calmly. "The city wished stability restored. Faith must find balance again."
He glanced around at the wounded clergy, the fearful believers, the trembling innocent.
"And balance… demands a cost."
Malvane shook his head violently.
"No— no, I've paid! I carried them! I bore everything! My entire life has been sacrifice!"
His voice cracked into raw panic.
"You can't take more!"
Inkaris' gaze softened…
without becoming kind.
"You never sacrificed," he said quietly. "You consumed. You called it burden because it sounded holy. You called it duty because it excused your hunger. You called it destiny…"
He leaned closer.
"…because your ego demanded the universe must agree with you."
Malvane's breathing turned ragged.
Fear…
true fear…
finally entered his eyes.
Not fear of losing power.
Fear of what would replace it.
---
The cathedral went still.
Faith didn't hum or glow.
It waited.
Even the walls seemed to lean in around them, as if the world itself wished to see how this ended.
Aiden felt it in his bones.
Liora braced.
Seris swallowed.
Caelum stilled.
Inkaris extended a hand toward Malvane gently…
almost tenderly…
like a man about to close a book that should never have been written.
"Your punishment," he said softly, "must fit your crime."
Malvane trembled.
"Please," he whispered. "Don't make me nothing."
Inkaris' eyes lowered.
"Worse," he replied.
And the world prepared to assign Malvane exactly what he earned.
Darkness gathered.
Consequences coiled.
Fate…
tightened.
And everything ended…
right before the scream.