The shattered remains of the cathedral lay silent, the echoes of battle fading into the cold night air. Glass and stone littered the floor, reflecting the eerie glow of the torches still flickering along the ruined walls.
The blackened blade pulsed faintly in Damien's grip, its surface whole once more—but changed. No longer cracked, no longer dying. Now, it carried something new.
Something that belonged to him.
Erynn released his arm and took a step back, studying him with silver eyes that held more questions than answers. "Damien?"
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. His entire body still burned with the remnants of the energy he had just wielded—the whispers of the shadows, the last pieces of the entity that had been inside Varcen.
Or whatever had worn Varcen as a mask.
Selene nudged a broken shard of stained glass with her boot, golden eyes scanning the wreckage. "So… did we win?"