Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Eternal End

  Time marched on, and years swept by. Errikos was old now, and Osira had aged beside him. Jace watched as the familiar scene unfolded, no longer obscured or distorted. The fight, the sudden chaos. The arrow struck Osira, and Henry—no, Errikos—fought the soldiers, rage propelling him as he cut them down, sending the rest fleeing with curses and threats.

  Errikos didn’t care. He rushed to her side, hands trembling as he worked his magic, the wound closing, her life flickering back into her eyes. She looked up at him, and she smiled, but something shifted in her gaze—something that made Jace’s stomach turn.

  Her eyes squinted, as if trying to focus. Her lips quivered. “Henry?” she whispered, her voice breaking, fragile. “Is that… is that really you?”

  He froze, not knowing what to say, unable to answer.

  “Henry...” She began to cry, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s been so long. And you’re so old now... how did you get to be so old?” She looked down at her hands, her fingers trembling. “Henry, I’m scared. What’s happening to me?”

  He held her tightly, his heart breaking with each word she spoke. “Shhh, it’s okay, my love,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  “Henry?” she whispered, her voice so small, so lost.

  “Yes, darling. I’m here.”

  “Henry? Where are you?”

  He swallowed, his voice catching, struggling to speak. “I’m right here,” he said, tears choking him.

  But then, the light in her eyes faded—the fear, the pain, all of it replaced by confusion, by sadness. She looked at him, frowning slightly. “Why are you crying?” she asked. “Come on, my love, let’s get inside. We’re letting in a draft.”

  Errikos turned to Jace, his face worn and haggard. “For a precious few more days, I thought things had returned to the way they once were. Not with her knowing me for who I truly was, but at least happy enough. But it was only the beginning. The nightmares returned, and with them, flashes of memory—moments of the past breaking through.

  The scene shifted again, flashing to Osira in Errikos’s arms, her body trembling, tears streaming down her face in the dead of night.

  “Every day,” Henry’s voice came from nowhere, echoing with the weight of loss, “she slipped further. The lives she knew became tangled – twisted. The spells came more frequently, more violently. She would wake screaming, fighting me, terrified of me. And then, just as quickly, she’d see me again—the way she used to. But the good moments grew fewer and farther between, her mind unraveling, slipping away.”

  The scene shifted once more. Jace could see Errikos returning home, the air heavy with smoke. He rushed inside, finding the cottage filled with the thick, acrid scent of burning food.

  “She had been cooking,” Henry’s voice continued, the despair palpable, “and then... she simply stopped. She stopped moving, stopped everything. When I found her, there was the faintest glint of life left.”

  The vision took shape—Errikos kneeling on the cabin floor, holding Osira in his arms, her face pale, her eyes empty. Around them, small fires burned where the food had been left to char, smoke curling around the room.

  Jace realized then, the scene that Persephone had shown him before—it wasn’t a single day’s end. It was months later, the inevitable conclusion of all the fragile moments they had tried to hold on to.

  “Errikos, is that you?” she asked, her voice weak, trembling, her words slurring together.

  “Yes, my love. It’s me.” He tried to smile, but it was a broken, desperate thing.

  And then, just like that, she was gone. The final glints of light faded from her eyes, and her body went still in his arms. Henry swallowed, his throat dry and burning. “I don’t know how she died,” he said, his voice cracking, barely a whisper. “Maybe her body just couldn’t take it anymore—the stress, the pain. But she was gone. And there was nothing I could do.”

  The flames spread, the room growing hotter, but Henry didn’t move. He held her close, his arms tightening around her as if he could keep her there by force alone. He rocked slightly, tears streaming down his face, and screamed into the empty night. “Hades, appear!” His voice echoed through the smoke and flames, raw and broken. He rocked her gently, his voice cracking again. “Hades! Appear! You owe me that much!”

  The fires stilled. The world itself seemed to pause—all but for Henry, who continued to rock Osira’s lifeless form.

  A dark presence entered the room, the temperature dropping. Shadows shifted, forming a figure that loomed over the old man and his beloved.

  “Chosen,” Hades said, his voice quiet.

  Henry spat on the floor, his eyes blazing. “Don’t call me that. I’m no Chosen of yours.”

  Hades surveyed the scene, his dark gaze taking in the lifeless body in Henry’s arms, the destroyed room. Understanding crossed his features—a sadness that seemed to sink deeper.

  “Hades, bring her back,” Henry demanded, his voice nothing more than a broken plea.

  “I cannot,” Hades replied, his voice calm, steady.

  “Lies!” Henry screamed, his body trembling with rage. “Death is your domain! You have the power. Bring her back to me!”

  “It was her time,” Hades said, his voice almost gentle. “In my book, her name is written. Her soul has passed on, Henry. It’s not my choice—I am but a shepherd of those who cross that threshold.”

  “You’ve done it before!” Henry shouted, standing, his body trembling with the weight of Osira’s form. He laid her gently on the bed, his eyes fierce as he turned back to the god. “For others, you’ve broken your rules. Do it for me now.”

  Hades watched him, his gaze soft, filled with sorrow. “It’s beyond me now,” he said. “She has already respawned. She’s been reborn, Errikos. It’s beyond my power to bring her back.”

  “Where is she?” Henry’s voice cracked, his eyes wide, desperate.

  “It’s too late, Henry,” Hades said, shaking his head. “Her mind is already lost.”

  Henry knew, deep down, that Hades was right, but that knowledge did nothing to quell the rage bubbling up inside him. He lunged at Hades, his hands moving through the god, like smoke, a futile effort. “You did this!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “You did this!” He unleashed his fury, his aura exploding out from him—tendrils of dark, inky power spreading across the room, shattering wood and pottery.

  Hades stood there, unmoving, his face filled with quiet sorrow. “I am sorry, Henry,” he whispered.

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  Henry screamed again, his power surging—this time, it struck Hades, a blast of darkness that rippled through his form. Hades blinked, stunned, as a small drop of blood appeared on his lip. He touched the drop with his finger, staring at it, his expression puzzled. He looked at Henry then, and his gaze was different—something changed, a shift in his intent.

  “Goodbye, Henry,” Hades said quietly, his tone resolute.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Henry roared. “Fight me!”

  But there was no one left to respond. Hades had vanished, leaving Henry alone in the burning room, the flames roaring once more.

  The scene faded to black, the old man stepping out of the fading memory, the age peeling away from him as he approached Jace. A dark cloak formed around his shoulders, and his eyes grew cold.

  “He did me a favor then,” Henry said, his voice low, almost resigned. “Any other god would have killed me and locked my soul away forever. But Hades let me live. If he’d fought me, I would have died an excruciating death. But that was then...”

  He paused, his eyes darkening. “I saw Osira only twice more after that. Just twice. Once, in a perfect moment of young love. And once in the worst of moments, at the battle of Roandia. I haven’t sought her out since. She’s lived many lives since then—she’s been a queen, a pauper, everything in between. She always had that spirit, that willingness to experience everything life had to offer.”

  Jace looked at Henry, sitting in the cabin, shadows cast across his face. “But why?” Jace asked, his voice breaking with frustration. “Why do all of this? Why kill, destroy, and wage war against countless lives if you know the cost? Why block the logout?”

  Henry’s expression twisted, his mouth curving into something dark. “Block the logout? If that was within my power, I would be greater than all the gods combined. But why end it? Don’t you see, Jason? Or are you still too blind to understand?” His voice carried a weary bitterness. “This is just a game, Jason. When we die, the game takes a piece of us, a fragment of our lives, as payment. But that energy—it doesn’t vanish. It’s still there, trapped within the System. If I can end it all—if I can bring Terra Mythica to its knees—then she will be free. Don’t you want the same thing?”

  Jace grimaced, feeling a sharp pain bloom in his chest and sides, something raw and gnawing. He looked at Henry, eyes narrowing, his voice tight. “Why are you telling me all this?” he demanded, suspicion lacing his words.

  Henry didn’t immediately answer, his gaze drifting back to the fading scene of the cottage. He seemed almost lost in it, his fingers brushing against memories that weren’t ready to let go.

  Jace clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling up. “What are you hiding from me?” he snapped, taking a step forward, ignoring the way the pain twisted inside him, making his breath hitch. “This is just a distraction, isn’t it? All of this... the fairgrounds, the stories—it’s all to keep me from seeing what you’re really trying to do.”

  Henry turned then, his eyes locking onto Jace’s, something dark and unreadable swirling beneath the surface. He didn’t deny it, not right away. Instead, he looked at Jace with that weary, haunted expression, like a man who had lived too long with ghosts and was used to their company. Then he smiled, a vicious wicked smile, the old man Henry gone, replaced in an instant by the Dark One.

  He waved his hand and some of the darkness shifted, allowing Jace access to his own eyes for a moment, to see what was happening outside in the battle. “It’s already too late.”

  The battlefield was chaos. The roaring din of combat, a symphony of violence that pulsed with an unrelenting, savage rhythm, swallowed the screams of pain and fury. Blood stained the dirt, both demon and human alike, and the air was thick with smoke and despair. Jace’s friends were scattered, each locked in their own desperate struggle for survival. Ell’s nimble movements were slowed, her stamina flagging as the relentless demon she faced pressed her harder. Dex fought with every ounce of his strength, his daggers a blur as he tried to keep back another demon that had broken through their line, its wicked claws missing by mere inches.

  And above all of it, towering amidst the chaos, stood the monstrous giant demon, its eyes blazing like hot coals as it roared, the very sound sending ripples of fear through the hearts of those who heard it.

  Jace’s body lay on the ground, unmoving, his limbs sprawled out at awkward angles. He was somewhere between this world and the dark expanse of his mind—trapped. He could hear the muffled screams, the clash of weapons, and feel the earth trembling beneath him. He was aware, vaguely, of his physical form, of how he was exposed, vulnerable. And of how they were losing.

  And then there was Shadow.

  She stood above his body, defiance blazing in her eyes. Her cloak billowed out around her, her hands covered in a faint, pulsing light—a desperate attempt at a shield to fend off the encroaching demons. Her voice, strong and unyielding, called out orders, her feet rooted to the ground. She wasn’t giving an inch. Not while Jace lay there. Not while there was still a breath in her.

  She snarled, the power in her arms flickering as she drove back another demon lunging towards Jace’s defenseless form. Her stance was fierce, a lone figure against the encroaching darkness, standing amidst the swarming creatures, fighting to protect him.

  To her right, Marcus fought on, struggling against two demons at once, his teeth bared in determination. He glanced at Shadow, his eyes filled with something Jace could only describe as fear. Fear of loss, fear of failure. And there, beyond him, Molly, her face pale as she continued her tether, supporting Jace even as she was forced to defend herself, her other hand wielding a knife against a demon clawing towards her.

  The teachers that had stayed behind were scattered, their spells lighting up the dark battlefield, their expressions filled with grim determination. But even they were faltering—each blow they delivered, each spell cast, seemed only to delay the inevitable.

  Jace’s body was shaking, his consciousness slipping, torn between the surreal agony of his mind and the desperate struggle around him. The darkness had its grip on him, holding tight, refusing to let go. He was being torn apart, piece by piece, and every moment that passed, every heartbeat, brought him closer to the abyss.

  And then he felt it—another pull, something dark and foreign, a presence that seemed to snake into his thoughts and take root there, a cold whisper echoing in his mind. Look, it said. See what defiance will bring you.

  The battlefield shifted, the noise of the combat suddenly fading to a murmur, like he was underwater. He found himself there, still on the ground, but now with a forced, unnatural clarity. And he saw it—Shadow, standing above him, her body bruised, her defenses weakening, the light from her hands flickering as the monstrous giant demon approached.

  “Shadow!” He tried to scream, his voice nothing but a strangled whisper.

  She turned, her eyes catching his for the briefest of moments. There was something there—something almost like a smile, a reassurance. As if she knew what was coming, but accepted it.

  The demon lunged, its blade-like claws slicing through the air.

  Shadow moved, her arms raised, her body twisting in a futile attempt to evade.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Jace watched, helpless, his soul screaming as the claws found their mark, cutting through her side, the force sending her sprawling. Blood spilled across the ground, her body collapsing beside his.

  The demon roared again, triumphant, and Jace felt something in him break. A soundless scream tore from his throat, a despair deeper than anything he had ever known ripping through him. He could feel the tether of Molly’s aether, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

  Shadow’s body lay still beside him, her face turned towards him, her eyes fluttering shut as her breath stilled. She had stood for him, defended him until her last breath. And now she was gone.

  Jace’s mind twisted, rage and grief melding together, consuming him, the darkness growing until all he could feel was that terrible, consuming void. The Dark One’s voice echoed once more, cold and triumphant.

  “You will become me, Jace. And we will bring the Eternal End.”

  The thought began as a whisper, curling then fading like smoke. It’s just a game, it said, a quiet murmur that slithered through his thoughts. A small, seemingly harmless thought, but one that grew louder, more insistent with each passing moment.

  It’s all meaningless.

  Jace felt the words looping inside him, twisting tighter and tighter, the notion clawing at his reason. Wasn’t it true? Wasn’t this just a fabrication, some coded existence meant to entertain or torment them? The people he met, the places he traveled, the battles they fought—they were all predetermined outcomes of an elaborate design. Mere lines of code, data running its course, guided by some uncaring hand. Wasn’t that what it was?

  He felt himself drifting away from shore, sinking beneath the tide.

  He could see it—feel it even. The cold logic of the Dark One’s words. If they broke the system, if they shattered everything, it would all end. They could crash it, end the suffering, and release everyone from this cruel illusion. Maybe the Dark One is right, he thought, a chill settling over his heart. Maybe if we end it all, we can finally be free.

  And yet...

  Maybe... His mind stammered. Maybe...

  Jace’s resolve began to buckle, his spirit sinking under the weight of it all. He felt himself slipping, as if the ground beneath his feet was giving way, crumbling. What’s the point? He thought. It’s hopeless. None of this is real. None of it matters.

  Jace sank to his knees and a terrible emptiness opened within him, hollowing him out. He could feel his will shattering, his grasp loosening. His hope was nothing more than a flickering flame, threatening to extinguish under the weight of despair.