{Malachi Novastia.}
The army marched behind me in steady rhythm, boots striking the earth in disciplined cadence, banners swaying with restrained confidence.
My gaze never wavered from the opposing force ahead.
Their formation was tight and deliberate, mirroring ours with an uncomfortable familiarity that left no room for doubt.
Nicholas had been right.
The one leading them was none other than Madikai.
In truth, with Kivana clinging to my waist and the weight of her presence grounding me, fear found no place to settle.
What once would have tightened my chest now slipped past me without purchase.
I had been ordered to accept her assistance, yet somewhere along the way it had stopped feeling like an order and begun to feel like necessity.
Her arms were firm, steady, wrapped around me as though she alone could anchor me against everything waiting beyond this field.
I had already seen and outcomes I desperately wished to avoid.
We rode forward together.
Kivana did not acknowledge the armies, the tension, or the scale of what stood before us.
Her silence was deliberate, distant, as if she were watching from somewhere far removed.
As if this battlefield were already a memory she had chosen not to keep.
Madikai mirrored our movement, riding out alone.
At once, both armies halted, the sound of hooves echoing briefly before falling into absolute stillness.
It was a silence so sharp it felt enforced rather than earned.
We dismounted and stood face to face, the space between us heavy but measured, a distance defined by restraint rather than hostility.
The northern mountains loomed on the horizon, jagged and immense, their peaks veiled by low clouds that clung stubbornly to the sky.
Each breath left my lungs as white vapor, sharp and cold, grounding me in the present even as my mind strained toward futures yet unrealized.
Madikai exhaled slowly and cracked his neck.
"You look better," he said, studying me without hostility. "And you seem stronger. Good."
I glanced back at Kivana.
She looked visibly annoyed, burdened by the inconvenience of this confrontation, yet when our eyes met she smiled faintly.
It was small and fleeting, but it carried a warmth that cut cleanly through the chill and steadied my resolve.
I turned back to Madikai.
"I won't lose this time. I am filled with close bonds of love."
For a moment, concern flickered across his expression.
Then he sighed, lifting a hand slightly, as though already resigned to an outcome neither of us had chosen.
"Wait a few seconds."
I frowned, uncertain, and then felt a sudden impact as a bird landed squarely on my nose, pecking my forehead with impatient urgency.
I froze.
"So," I muttered.
Madikai tilted his head, listening as if receiving the same message through a different channel, his expression tightening as the meaning settled.
"What a shame," he said calmly. "There seems to be a great change in plans."
He nodded once. "So I would ask you to withdraw, but something tells me you do not need to be asked."
I turned, scanning the field.
Our army was already retreating, lines dissolving into swift, organized movement.
They moved faster now than when we had marched in, urgency replacing discipline, survival replacing pride.
Damned bastards. All of them.
The war had barely lasted a week, yet it felt as though years had been carved away in its wake.
Too much had happened. Too much had been lost, even in what could be called victory.
I walked back to my horse and mounted in one fluid motion, then reached down to help Kivana up behind me.
She accepted my hand without comment.
I could not help but chuckle quietly, relief bleeding into exhaustion.
"Next time," I said, glancing back at Madikai, "we fight without all the unneeded fodder."
He laughed, loud and unrestrained, pride ringing clearly in his voice.
"Maybe," he replied. "But I would likely reject you."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, then turned away.
We rode off together, heading straight for the capital, leaving the battlefield empty behind us and the war to collapse under its own sudden irrelevance.
Kivana spoke into my back. "The message you received, what did it entail?"
I grit my teeth, the aftertaste of inevitability lingering.
"People are disgusting," I said quietly. "It must surely not be the world. It is definitely the people."
Kivana knew what the truth was. She always did, and it was annoying at times.
This world itself was not broken, but it was undeniably damaged by those who inhabited it.
This war had been fought on the grounds of future events, possibilities seen and feared rather than certainties earned.
Now that it had ended in victory, we could finally draw conclusions that did not involve endless bloodshed.
In that single moment, Nicholas had been able to dissect the truth.
Rosen, a member of the Silent Court, knew of the Golden Authority.
That alone explained far more than it should have.
The message had taken time to arrive because the denser the informational particles it carried, the slower it moved.
Nicholas delivering all of it at once was no accident.
It had been part of his design, deliberate and precise.
At times, I suspected he was a far greater divine mind than he let on.
One truth was made clear.
Even if I had fought and defeated Madikai, someone from the Golden Authority would have arrived.
And when that happened, I would have lost.
There was no saint I could defeat, not yet, not in my current state.
Griffin was not the type of man to falter easily. I had met him before.
He carried an aura of holiness that pressed down on the world around him, and his power was nothing to dismiss lightly.
His hands could extend across all worlds, unbound by distance or limitation.
He was the messenger of the churches throughout the world. I supposed that was why Veritas still stood.
Perhaps it had all been predestined. My family, the Novastia line, were all born with prophetic eyes.
My eyes, shared by all my predecessors, were known as the Mora Stalia, which loosely translated to paused stars.
Through them, fate and time could be controlled, though never without consequence.
I avoided using them when I could. The drawbacks were severe.
Earlier, I had used them with Kivana present.
As long as she was with me, the cost was negated, though the babbles of Mora Stalia still crept into my thoughts, threatening to consume me.
Nicholas had mentioned in his message that Mirabel had prayed to a monster above.
The Red Maw Mistress, to be exact.
A greatness and a vileness beyond all.
Even speaking her name hardened the mind, yet Nicholas had revealed a simple method to negate the madness she brought.
I needed only to pray to Mora Stalia.
Mora Stalia was known by many names. She was a Celestial, one of many beings who exist beyond the stars.
That phrase, beyond the stars, did not merely mean distant skies.
It referred to all beings beyond worlds entirely, beyond Earth, beyond any closed system of reality.
When perceived on a spectrum, Earth appeared as a massive star filled with every color imaginable, layered, impossible to fully comprehend.
There were many types of beings beyond the stars.
Angels from Heaven. Demons from Hell.
Celestials, who were stars personified and who bathed in the great Sea of Time.
Great Old Ones, vast and alien, whose thoughts alone warped existence.
And others still, nameless entities that defied classification.
Among the Celestials, Mora Stalia was the greatest.
The Star of Time. She lay basking in the Sea of Time itself, merciful despite her immensity.
I was tempted to pray as we rode toward the capital, but I held back. It was best not to pray without purpose.
"Kivana," I said, "do you wish to sway the course of history?"
She tightened her grip around my waist.
"Of course," she replied. "History is terrible. Midir is surely a cruel person."
I chuckled, then laughed softly as I looked toward the sky.
"Mora Stalia," I said. "She must guide me."
She bit my back lightly. "Do not speak of another woman before me."
I laughed and glanced back at her.
"Come now. We must certainly pray to such a great power. She is the Celestial Star."
She shook her head, utterly serious.
"I must rise to the position of a Great Old One. Such a thing is completely unacceptable otherwise."
She was serious. Entirely so.
And I thought, perhaps it was possible. All one had to do was go beyond the world.
For my lover, as long as she remained within my light, it would definitely happen.