Chapter Seven: The Shattered Light
Part I: The First Blow
The God-Eater loomed before them, a terror ancient and unspeakable. It radiated a darkness so complete it threatened to snuff out the flame of their resolve. The weight of every dead god, every cursed love, every broken oath hung in the cavern's thick, blood-scented air. Dren gripped his sword tighter, the Mark upon his skin searing with power, and Seris's storm-bound gaze crackled with defiance.
They ran.
Dren struck first. His sword ignited with ancient flame, the runes along its blade whispering long-forgotten names. He drove it toward the God-Eater's massive form. The weapon met flesh not of this world, sinking in with a burst of violet light. The monster howled, a sound that made the cavern quake, dust raining down in thick curtains, and blood leak from their ears.
Seris followed, lightning exploding from her blade as she launched herself into the air. She came down with the force of a falling star, burying her weapon deep into the creature's shoulder.
The Hollow's floor cracked, bones and stone shifting like some ancient thing stirring in its sleep.
But the God-Eater was not so easily slain.
A tendril of shadow whipped out, catching Seris mid-leap and hurling her against a jagged outcrop. She hit hard, the breath driven from her lungs. Blood filled her mouth, the taste bitter and coppery. Dren shouted, racing toward her, but a wave of shadow engulfed him.
Part II: A Storm Within
It wasn't just darkness. It was memory.
Faces of those he'd lost. His sister. His father. Kael. Lyra. A thousand moments stolen by time, twisted by regret. The Hollow fed on despair, weaving lies so perfect they tasted like truth.
Dren stumbled through the visions, each one a dagger to the soul. A memory of Lyra's eyes, filled with sorrow. Kael's voice, broken in betrayal. His mother's lullaby, a half-forgotten thread.
The Mark pulsed.
A single name.
Seris.
It anchored him.
He roared, a primal, defiant sound, and the visions shattered like glass. Shadowy tendrils recoiled as his sword lashed out, cutting through memory's grasp.
Across the Hollow, Seris rose, blood streaking her face. Her storm-born magic swirled around her, forming a halo of crackling light. The God-Eater's laughter was a chorus of dead gods, mocking, ancient.
"You are nothing. Mere echoes of traitors."
Seris spat blood, hurling a bolt of stormfire that split the cavern roof. "We are more than memory."
The Hollow trembled.
Part III: The Breaking of Chains
Together, they fought on.
Every strike was a story. Every wound, a defiance. The God-Eater's abominations rose from the bones of the Hollow, their twisted forms merging the features of lost friends and ancient horrors. But Dren's sword bit deep, black ichor spilling. Seris's storms scorched bone and shadow alike.
Still, the God-Eater endured.
Then, the Mark upon Dren's chest flared. A memory surfaced: the final words of the Seers.
"The Hollow feeds on defiance. Feed it, and it becomes your weapon."
He grabbed Seris's arm. "Give me your rage."
She understood. All the grief, fury, and love between them wove into a single surge of power. Their powers merged, storm and ash, light and dark.
A cyclone of raw magic rose, a living tempest of memory, sorrow, and furious love. The Hollow itself turned against its master. Shadows writhed, chains cracked, ancient bones rebelled.
The God-Eater faltered.
Its colossal form split along seams of violet light. Reality frayed at the edges.
The air hummed with the last breath of dying gods.
Dren and Seris knew the moment was now.
One final blow.
Their blades struck as one.
The God-Eater screamed, a sound so immense it reshaped the stone.
And the Hollow shattered.
The mist blew away.
The bones crumbled.
The ceiling collapsed in shards of ancient stone.
And in the ruin's heart, two figures stood, battered, bleeding, but unbroken.
The storm within them had become a force the gods themselves could not name.
But in the distance, a deeper darkness stirred.
Because this war, like love, was never meant to end so easily.