CHAPTER 69.

Chapter 69: The Heartstone Must Fall

The sky cracked as gods once worshipped now roared in defiance of their own fate.

Jean surged forward through the torrents of flame and ruin, her blade ablaze with Celeste's light. She aimed for the pulsing glow at the center of Antares' chest—a heartstone forged not of flesh, but pure, burning will. The source of his immortality. The source of his wrath.

If it did not fall, the world would.

Around her, the Emissaries closed in—beacons of divinity in a world unraveling.

Seraphine Durnstahl, her eyes twin infernos, channeled the primordial flame of the Ironblood Throne. Her warcry split the battlefield:

> "By my mother's crown—burn, wyrm!"

Her flames pierced through the layers of aura protecting Antares' left wing, and a scream—not one of pain, but of annoyance—shook the heavens.

Ilyana Veyr, ever cold, silent, unyielding, conjured a hail of jagged obsidian frost. Her guardian, a glimmering serpent of winter wind, coiled through the battlefield, lashing and freezing lesser dragons mid-roar.

> "Strike deeper," she murmured, to no one—and to everyone.

From above, Karen and Raigen became a storm incarnate.

Raigen dove, lightning crashing from every feather, the stormhawk's wings sweeping hundreds of yards. Karen drove her spear into Antares' back—and the dragon snarled, twisting in midair to slam her aside with the sheer force of his aura. Raigen caught her before the ground could.

And still the battle did not falter.

Below, the Luther Clan made their final gambit. Silvia led the charge, her blade wreathed in radiant flame, her aura thick as earth. Adam, bloodied but unbowed, cleaved through dragonspawn. Raven, unseen until it was too late, darted up Antares' leg like a shadow, seeking a weak point near the shoulder with twin knives of voidsteel.

All paths now converged.

Jean reached the heartstone.

Whitney leapt from the rubble, howling. The divine direwolf tore through a swathe of dragonspawn, his fangs glowing with light. The battlefield grew silent for one breath.

One final moment.

Jean lifted her blade skyward.

The light of Celeste poured down—not just into her weapon, but into her soul. The heavens opened. The gods watched.

> "Light does not beg," she said softly. "It burns."

She drove her sword into the heartstone.

Antares screamed.

It was not pain—it was denial. Centuries of rage and dominance unraveling in a single moment.

The heartstone cracked.

From behind, Vaelros the Hollow lifted his arms, summoning his Abyssal Twin. Shadows joined the strike. Flame. Ice. Storm. Steel. All the world's hopes converged.

And then—

The heartstone shattered.

A sound like the sundering of time erupted from Antares' chest. He fell, wings broken, aura collapsing into a burning sky. His body, still mighty, spiraled like a black sun toward the earth.

But he was falling.

And the world began to breathe again.

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