Chapter 3: The Assault on Heaven

The ascent began under the cloak of a pre-dawn sky, the air thin and biting even for

Elysia, accustomed to the celestial chill. Thalos, ever practical, had secured several

sturdy, magically reinforced mounts – magnificent griffons whose obsidian feathers

shimmered faintly in the dim light. Their human allies, a motley crew of seasoned

warriors and skilled strategists, clung to their respective griffons, their faces a

mixture of awe and apprehension. The air vibrated with a palpable tension, a silent

symphony of anticipation and dread.

The journey itself was a harrowing ordeal. The path to Heaven, it turned out, wasn't a

neatly paved highway; rather, it was a treacherous labyrinth carved into the very

fabric of reality. They traversed jagged, floating islands, clinging precariously to the

griffons' backs as the wind howled like a banshee. They navigated through swirling

nebulae, the celestial bodies a dazzling but disorienting spectacle. The landscape

shifted constantly, sometimes revealing breathtaking vistas of star-strewn galaxies,

other times plunging them into terrifying chasms of seemingly endless darkness.

Their first encounter with Seraphon's forces came unexpectedly. A squadron of

demonic harpies, their leathery wings slicing through the air, launched a surprise

attack, their shrill screams echoing across the desolate landscape. The griffons,

sensing the danger, responded with instinctive fury, their talons tearing through the

air with savage grace. Thalos, ever prepared, had armed the humans with enchanted

crossbows, their bolts tipped with celestial silver, designed to pierce the harpies'

ethereal defenses. The battle was a dizzying ballet of aerial acrobatics and deadly

precision. Elysia, with a flick of her wrist, conjured shimmering shields of celestial

energy, deflecting the harpies' razor-sharp claws. The ensuing chaos was

breathtaking, a desperate struggle for survival amidst the swirling vortex of stars and

nebulae. Despite the ferocity of the attack, they emerged victorious, their

determination solidified by the near-death experience.

As they pressed onward, the landscape grew more hostile. They encountered

grotesque creatures – warped parodies of celestial beings – that lurked in the

shadows, their forms shifting and writhing like nightmares made manifest. These

were Seraphon's scouts, tasked with hunting down any who dared to approach the

Celestial Gates. Each encounter was a test of their endurance and skill, a brutal dance

between survival and oblivion. One such encounter involved a massive, serpentine

creature whose scales were as hard as diamonds and whose breath could melt steel.

The griffons, despite their strength, struggled against its coils. It was Maeve's quick

thinking that saved them. Remembering an obscure passage from an ancient text, she

recited a forgotten incantation, causing the serpentine creature to momentarily

freeze, allowing them to escape its deadly grasp.

Their journey wasn't solely a physical challenge; it also tested their resilience as a

team. The constant threat, the lack of sleep, and the relentless pressure chipped away

at their morale. There were moments of doubt, moments of despair, moments when

the weight of their mission seemed almost unbearable. But it was in these moments

that their true strength emerged. They shared stories, they provided support, they

drew strength from each other's resilience. Elara's deciphered prophecies, originally

causing fear and trepidation, now offered hope, guiding their journey and helping

them anticipate the obstacles in their path. Each successful encounter, no matter

how harrowing, strengthened their bond, transforming them into an indomitable

force.

They faced a relentless barrage of challenges; treacherous whirlpools of energy that

threatened to tear their mounts apart, storms of cosmic dust that blinded and choked

them, and ethereal barriers that tested their magical prowess. They discovered

hidden pathways, narrowly avoiding deadly traps laid by Seraphon's cunning forces.

They learned to utilize the environment to their advantage, using the celestial winds

to their benefit and harnessing the energy of dying stars to bolster their strength and

speed.

One particularly memorable encounter involved navigating a field of shattered stars,

each shard a razor-sharp fragment of celestial energy. With precise maneuvers,

Thalos guided the griffons through the treacherous field, utilizing Elysia's magical

insights to avoid the most dangerous shards. Maeve's calming voice, weaving tales of

courage and hope, kept the spirits of the humans high during their perilous journey.

The tension was palpable, the risk of catastrophic failure ever-present. A single

misstep could have resulted in their annihilation, scattering them into the void of

space. Yet, they persevered.

As they neared the Celestial Gates, the landscape grew surreal. The very air

shimmered with divine energy, and the stars seemed to dance with an almost sentient

awareness. They witnessed breathtaking celestial phenomena, sights that defied

earthly comprehension. They passed by nebulae painted in the most vibrant hues,

glowing galaxies that spiraled across the cosmic canvas, and celestial rivers of

shimmering light. The sheer beauty of it all was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast

to the harsh reality of their struggle. But the beauty was fleeting. Their final challenge

lay ahead: the legions of Seraphon's elite guard, awaiting their arrival at the Celestial

Gates, a final, formidable barrier standing between them and their destiny. The

journey had been arduous, dangerous, and filled with unspeakable horrors. But they

had made it. They stood at the threshold of Heaven, ready to confront the fallen angel

and claim their victory. The final battle was imminent. Their journey to the Celestial

Gates was over, but their fight was far from finished.

The Celestial Gates, once a beacon of shimmering light, now pulsed with a malevolent

energy, the ethereal glow distorted by the presence of countless Seraphon legions. A

cacophony of demonic roars, guttural cries, and the clash of infernal weaponry

shattered the serene silence that had previously greeted them. The air crackled with

dark magic, the very fabric of reality seeming to warp under the weight of the

impending battle. Before them stretched a seemingly endless army, a tide of darkness

threatening to engulf them entirely.

Thalos, his face grim but resolute, barked orders. "Griffons, spread out! Elysia, provide

cover! Maeve, prepare the counter-spells! Humans, hold your positions!" His voice,

amplified by the magic woven into his warhorn, cut through the din of battle. The

griffons, sensing the imminence of the conflict, let out powerful roars, their obsidian

feathers ruffled by the violent winds whipped up by the demonic onslaught.

The first wave consisted of grotesque, winged creatures – nightmarish parodies of

cherubim, their once-angelic features twisted into expressions of pure malice. Their

eyes glowed with infernal fire, and their wings, massive and leathery, beat with a

rhythm of death. They plunged towards them, their claws extended, intent on tearing

the heroes apart. Elysia, her eyes blazing with celestial energy, unleashed a barrage of

shimmering shields, deflecting their attacks with graceful precision. The shields,

imbued with the power of a thousand suns, repelled the demonic onslaught, creating

dazzling explosions of light and shadow that momentarily blinded the attackers.

Simultaneously, the human warriors unleashed a volley of enchanted bolts, the

celestial silver piercing the demonic hide with deadly accuracy. Each hit produced a

piercing shriek, followed by the sickening thud of a body plummeting from the sky.

Maeve, chanting ancient incantations, weaved protective spells around the griffons,

bolstering their defenses against the relentless barrage of demonic attacks. Her voice,

normally calm and soothing, now held a steely edge, reflecting her unwavering focus

and determination.

The battle raged on, a breathtaking spectacle of light and darkness. Angelic power

clashed with demonic might, a dizzying ballet of magical prowess and brutal combat.

The sky above was illuminated by explosions of celestial energy, the ground beneath

trembled with the force of the impact, and the very air vibrated with the fury of the

conflict. Thalos, astride his griffon, fought with the ferocity of a cornered lion, his

sword a blur of motion as he sliced and diced through the demonic hordes. His every

move was precise, deadly, and imbued with the power of the celestial realm.

The second wave was even more formidable. Giant, hulking demons, their bodies

forged from obsidian and shadow, charged forward, their clubs and axes cleaving the

air. Their roars shook the very foundations of the Celestial Gates, sending tremors

through the fragile landscape. The griffons, despite their powerful builds, struggled

against the demons' relentless assault. The aerial combat turned into a desperate

struggle for survival, a maelstrom of claws, teeth, and magical fire.

Elysia, her reserves of celestial energy beginning to wane, found herself surrounded.

With a defiant shout, she summoned a massive shield of pure light, momentarily

repelling the demons, buying herself time to regroup. She conjured a storm of

celestial fire, its incandescent fury engulfing the demonic warriors, reducing them to

ash. But even with her power, she was pushed to her limits; she was bleeding. Her

breath came in ragged gasps, yet she continued to channel her energy, determined to

buy time for her allies.

Maeve, despite her fear, kept her head cool. Reciting another forgotten incantation,

she unleashed a wave of calming energy, momentarily disorienting the demons, giving

Thalos and the human warriors a chance to regroup and counterattack. Her

knowledge of ancient lore proved to be a crucial asset in this desperate battle, her

chants acting as a powerful weapon against the forces of darkness.

Elara, usually a supportive voice from the background, found her voice. Her analysis

of Seraphon's tactics was more relevant than ever, constantly warning the group of

incoming attacks and providing vital tactical insights. She was the eyes of the group,

seeing patterns and weaknesses in the chaotic demonic onslaught, providing a stream

of crucial information that helped direct the flow of battle.

The battle raged for what felt like an eternity. The ground was littered with the

corpses of fallen demons and the remnants of shattered celestial shields. The air was

thick with the smell of brimstone and the metallic tang of blood. But the heroes

refused to yield. Their resolve, strengthened by their shared experiences and their

unwavering belief in their cause, propelled them onward.

As the tide of battle began to turn, a monstrous figure emerged from the heart of the

demonic horde—a colossal demon, its form radiating pure malevolence, easily twice

the size of any other demon seen thus far. This being pulsed with a power that

dwarfed all others, a palpable aura of annihilation radiating from its very core. This

was no mere warrior; this was a commander, a general of Seraphon's legions. The

final, and most crucial, fight was about to begin. The heroes, battered but not broken,

stood their ground, knowing that this fight would decide the fate of Heaven, and

perhaps, the universe itself. The clash of angelic and demonic might intensified,

promising a climax as terrifying and magnificent as the journey they had already

endured. The fate of Heaven hung precariously in the balance.

The colossal demon, a mountain of writhing shadow and obsidian, loomed over them,

its eyes burning with an unholy light. Its roar, a sound that seemed to tear at the very

fabric of reality, shook the ground beneath their feet. Thalos, his griffon trembling

beneath him, felt a cold dread grip his heart. This was it. The culmination of their

arduous journey, the final, desperate gamble for the fate of Heaven.

Elysia, her body battered and bleeding, her celestial energy depleted to a mere flicker,

knew that this was their last stand. She looked at Thalos, a flicker of a smile playing on

her lips despite the pain wracking her body. "Go, Thalos," she whispered, her voice

barely audible above the din of battle. "Use this distraction. Get through those gates!"

Thalos, his heart clenching with a mixture of fear and fierce determination, knew that

she was right. He had to take this chance, this opportunity she was buying with her

life. The weight of Heaven rested on his shoulders, a burden that threatened to crush

him beneath its immensity. But he couldn't let her sacrifice be in vain. He nodded, a

silent promise etched on his face.

With a final, heart-wrenching look at Elysia, Thalos spurred his griffon onward. He

signaled Maeve, and the human warriors followed suit, forming a wedge through the

chaotic mass of demonic forces. Elysia, meanwhile, prepared for her final, desperate

act. She closed her eyes, drawing on the last vestiges of her celestial power, a power

that had once blazed with the brilliance of a thousand suns, now reduced to a faint

ember. But even this faint ember held the potential for destruction, a last, brilliant

firework to illuminate their escape.

She channeled her remaining energy, focusing it into a single, devastating point. The

air around her crackled with immense power, a maelstrom of pure energy coalescing

into a blinding sphere of light. It pulsed with raw power, a miniature sun threatening

to consume all in its path. The surrounding demons, sensing the immense power

emanating from her, recoiled in terror, their movements hesitant, their roars choked

with fear. This was no ordinary spell; this was a sacrifice, a desperate act of

self-annihilation designed to create the perfect distraction.

With a final, defiant cry, Elysia unleashed the sphere of light. The ensuing explosion

was cataclysmic, a supernova of celestial energy that ripped through the demonic

ranks. The earth trembled, the sky was illuminated with blinding white light, followed

by an expanding wave of force that sent demons flying in all directions, their screams

drowned out by the deafening roar of the blast. The shockwave even seemed to

reverberate against the Celestial Gates themselves, momentarily disorienting the

remaining Seraphon forces.

The explosion was so immense it momentarily eclipsed the horrifying visage of the

colossal demon, buying Thalos and the others precious moments. Amidst the chaos

and destruction, they pushed forward, their hearts pounding with a mixture of

adrenaline and grief. They fought their way through the disoriented and shocked

demonic forces, each blow fueled by the memory of Elysia's sacrifice. Maeve's

incantations, now imbued with a fervent sorrow, shielded them from the sporadic

attacks as they carved a path to the Gates. Elara, despite the horror of the situation,

continued to offer essential tactical insights, her voice a calm beacon in the storm of

violence. The human warriors fought with an almost supernatural fury, their hearts

filled with gratitude for Elysia's heroic deed.

Thalos, leading the charge, felt the loss of his friend keenly. The grief threatened to

overwhelm him, but he suppressed it, channeling his sorrow into righteous fury.

Every swing of his sword, every surge of his celestial energy, was a testament to

Elysia's sacrifice. He fought not only to save Heaven, but also to avenge his fallen

comrade.

Through the carnage, they finally reached the gates. The celestial metal, still pulsating

with dark energy, shimmered faintly. With a surge of power, Thalos channeled the

combined energies of the surviving heroes, focusing it into a single, desperate strike.

The gates groaned under the strain, but finally, with a deafening crack, they yielded.

A swirling vortex of light opened before them, offering a gateway to the heavens

beyond. But the victory felt hollow, the joy diluted by the overwhelming sorrow that

weighed heavily on their hearts. They had breached the gates, bought a chance for

survival, but at what cost?

As they stepped through the gates, Thalos looked back at the scene of devastation, a

landscape littered with the corpses of demons and the lingering afterglow of Elysia's

sacrifice. The image of her, radiating celestial energy, her final defiant cry echoing in

his ears, haunted him. The weight of her death, the profound loss, settled upon him

like a shroud. He had lost a dear friend, a powerful ally, a shining beacon of hope.

The battle had been won, for now. But at what cost? The celebration of victory

remained muted, overshadowed by the profound sense of loss and the grim

knowledge that the fight was far from over. The victory they had achieved tasted of

ashes, a bittersweet reminder of the sacrifice that had paved their path. Heaven was

safe, for now, but the shadow of Elysia's sacrifice would forever darken their triumph.

The image of her self-sacrifice, a supernova of light and energy that illuminated their

escape, would serve as a constant reminder of the ultimate price they had paid, a

testament to the strength and courage of a fallen hero. The journey was far from over.

They had won a battle, but the war for Heaven had only just begun. The victory was

bittersweet, the future uncertain, and the sorrow for Elysia would remain a constant

companion in their quest. The weight of their loss was as heavy as the weight of

Heaven itself, resting heavily on Thalos' shoulders, a perpetual reminder of the

sacrifice that had ensured their survival.

The swirling vortex spat them out onto a pristine, cloud-swept plateau, a stark

contrast to the hellish landscape they'd left behind. But the ethereal beauty held no

solace for Thalos. The victory felt like a phantom limb, a hollow echo in the vast

expanse of his grief. He stumbled, his griffon, sensing his rider's despair, nuzzling his

shoulder in a gesture of comfort that did little to ease the crushing weight in his

chest.

Elysia's face, radiant even in death, flashed before his eyes. Her smile, a defiant spark

against the encroaching darkness, was seared into his memory. He could still hear her

whisper, feel the tremor in her voice as she urged him on. He hadn't even had the

chance to properly say goodbye, to express the gratitude that swelled in his heart, a

gratitude now choked by the bitter taste of loss.

Maeve, her usually vibrant eyes clouded with sorrow, placed a hand on his arm.

"Thalos," she said softly, her voice laced with an empathy that mirrored his own pain.

"We did it. We saved Heaven."

Her words, meant to comfort, felt like shards of glass against his raw wounds. Saving

Heaven felt like a pyrrhic victory, a triumph stained crimson with Elysia's blood. The

weight of their survival pressed down on him, a crushing burden far heavier than any

demon horde. He had lost more than just a comrade; he had lost a sister, a confidante,

a beacon of unwavering hope.

Elara, ever the pragmatist, tried to offer encouragement. "We need to regroup," she

said, her voice taut with suppressed emotion. "The demons will surely regroup, and

this was merely a setback for their ultimate goal. We must secure the Celestial Gates

and plan our next course of action."

Her words were logical, necessary, yet they fell on deaf ears. Thalos could barely hear

her, lost in the maelstrom of his own despair. The images of the battle replayed in his

mind—Elysia's final, devastating blast, the horrific carnage, the gaping hole Elysia's

sacrifice had torn in the demonic ranks. Every detail was a fresh wound, each a

reminder of his profound loss.

He pushed himself away from Maeve's hand, the gentle touch stinging more than it

soothed. He needed solitude, a space to grapple with the enormity of his grief, to

wrestle with the crushing weight of responsibility that now rested solely on his

shoulders.

He walked away from the group, his steps heavy, each footfall echoing the resounding

silence of his heart. He found a secluded alcove, overlooking the celestial landscape, a

breathtaking panorama that offered him no comfort. The radiant clouds, the

shimmering rivers of light, the celestial music that normally soothed his soul, all

seemed muted, pale imitations of their former glory. His vision blurred, the edges of

his world softened by a rising tide of tears.

The loss was not just personal; it was strategic. Elysia had been the heart of their

team, the anchor holding them together in times of adversity. Her wisdom, her

unwavering faith, her potent celestial magic – all were gone. The gaping hole she left

behind was a chasm threatening to swallow their hopes and dreams.

He remembered the early days of their quest, their shared laughter, their whispered

secrets, their shared burdens. He remembered her gentle smile, her infectious

energy, her unyielding courage. He remembered the countless times she had saved

his life, her unwavering belief in him, even when he himself doubted. The memory of

her sacrifice was a knife twisting in his gut, a constant, throbbing reminder of his

failure to protect her.

He gripped his sword, the cold steel a stark contrast to the burning tears on his

cheeks. He had sworn to protect Heaven, to avenge those fallen in its defense, but

how could he carry this burden, this crushing weight of responsibility, when his heart

was shattered, his spirit broken? He felt the weight of Heaven pressing down on him,

a physical manifestation of his failure, his inability to bear the loss of his friend.

The sun, a distant, cold orb in the heavens, seemed to mock his despair. Its light,

usually a source of warmth and hope, only amplified his agony. He sank to his knees,

the pristine ground doing little to cushion the blow of his grief. He buried his face in

his hands, the tremors in his body reflecting the turmoil in his soul.

The silence was broken only by the occasional sob, a testament to his overwhelming

despair. His resolve, once a bastion of strength and unwavering determination, was

crumbling, threatened to be completely swept away by the unrelenting tide of his

sorrow.

Hours passed, a silent eternity of grief and self-recrimination. He replayed their last

moments together, each detail a fresh stab of pain. He berated himself for not being

stronger, for not being able to shield her from the horrors of the battle, for allowing

her to sacrifice herself. He questioned his worthiness to lead, to carry the weight of

Heaven on his already burdened shoulders.

Finally, exhaustion, a temporary respite from the crushing weight of his sorrow,

began to creep in. He had to find a way to channel his grief, to transform his pain into

something productive, something that would honor Elysia's sacrifice. He had to find a

way to move forward, not for himself, but for Elysia, for Heaven, for those who

depended on him. He knew, with a profound certainty, that Elysia wouldn't want him

to collapse under the weight of despair. Her sacrifice had bought them a chance, and

he would not let it be in vain.

Rising slowly to his feet, his body aching, his spirit still wounded, Thalos looked

towards the others, a flicker of resolve igniting within the depths of his grief. The war

for Heaven was far from over, and the fight would continue. His heart might be

broken, his soul might be scarred, but his duty remained. He would carry the weight

of Heaven, and the memory of Elysia, with him, transforming his grief into

unwavering strength. Her sacrifice would not be in vain. He would avenge her death,

he would protect Heaven, and he would honor her memory by fighting with a ferocity

and determination that would eclipse even her own. He would continue, not just for

Heaven, but for Elysia, a promise whispered on the wind, a vow etched into the very

fabric of his being.

The silence that followed the final, desperate clash was deafening. It wasn't the

peaceful quiet of a clear morning, but the oppressive hush of a world holding its

breath, waiting for the next blow. Heaven, once a radiant expanse of celestial beauty,

was now a patchwork quilt of devastation. Shattered spires of light lay scattered like

fallen stars across the scarred landscape. The celestial rivers, once flowing with pure

energy, were choked with debris and the lingering taint of demonic corruption. The

air itself hummed with a dissonant energy, a discordant symphony of pain and

exhaustion.

Thalos slowly walked through the wreckage, each step a heavy weight dragging him

through the mud of despair and shattered hope. The once pristine clouds were now

stained a bruised purple, the remnants of the demonic onslaught. He could still smell

the acrid stench of sulfur and the metallic tang of blood, a grim reminder of the

horrors they had endured. The air, usually filled with the harmonious music of the

spheres, was now filled with the agonizing groans of the wounded and the chilling

silence of the dead.

He passed by angels, their wings tattered and broken, their bodies bandaged with

makeshift dressings of shimmering, celestial cloth. Their faces were etched with a

mixture of exhaustion, grief, and a terrifying, resigned acceptance. The once vibrant

army of Heaven was now a broken collection of wounded souls, clinging to life and

hope with a desperate tenacity. Their eyes, once filled with fervent faith and

unwavering determination, were now clouded with doubt and despair.

Maeve, her usually bright face pale and drawn, approached him, her movements slow

and deliberate. She offered a hand, her touch gentle but firm. "Thalos," she said, her

voice barely above a whisper, "we need to secure the Celestial Gates. The demons...

they could return."

Her words brought him back to the brutal reality of their situation. The battle was

over, but the war was far from won. The victory had been hard-fought, bought with a

price far steeper than any of them could have imagined. The demons had been

pushed back, yes, but their defeat was far from complete. They would regroup, they

would return, and they would come back stronger and more ruthless than before. The

fragile peace that had settled over the ravaged landscape was nothing more than a

temporary reprieve, a deceptive calm before the next storm.

Elara, her usually sharp eyes filled with a weary sadness, joined them. "We need to

assess the damage," she declared, her voice betraying the tremor in her hands. "We

need to count the casualties, tend to the wounded, and prepare for... for whatever

comes next."

The task before them was monumental. The damage to Heaven was extensive, far

beyond any superficial repairs. It wasn't just the physical destruction that concerned

them. The morale of the celestial army was at its lowest ebb. Faith, the very

foundation of their strength, had been shaken to its core. The loss of Elysia, a

devastating blow, had left a gaping hole in their ranks, a wound that would take much

more than time to heal. Her death had cast a long, mournful shadow over the

battlefield, a chilling reminder of the fragility of life, and the high cost of victory.

The next few days were a blur of desperate activity. Angels, their wings heavily laden

with sorrow and exhaustion, worked tirelessly to tend to the wounded and bury the

dead. They salvaged what they could from the wreckage, restoring damaged

structures and reinforcing the weakened Celestial Gates. Every action was performed

with a silent solemnity, each task a grim reminder of the battle's devastating toll.

The stories shared were filled with heroic acts and agonizing losses. Tales of courage

and sacrifice echoed through the celestial halls, each one a testament to the

unwavering resolve of those who fought so bravely to defend Heaven. But these

stories were also laced with a heavy undercurrent of grief, a palpable sense of loss

that clung to them like a shroud. They spoke of comrades lost, of friendships severed,

of hopes shattered. Each story was a fresh wound, reopening the raw scars left by the

battle.

Thalos found himself drawn to Elysia's resting place. He knelt beside her, his gaze

fixed on the serene expression on her face. The radiant light that had always

surrounded her seemed to linger, a faint halo clinging to the edges of her form, a

testament to the power and purity of her soul. He placed a hand on the cold celestial

stone that served as her tomb, the touch sending a jolt of grief through him.

He whispered a silent prayer, a heartfelt tribute to the fallen angel. His words were

choked with emotion, his voice trembling with the raw agony of loss. He recounted

their shared adventures, their laughter, their moments of shared vulnerability. He

spoke of her unwavering faith, her boundless courage, her selfless dedication to the

cause. He thanked her for her friendship, for her guidance, for her sacrifice.

As he sat there, mourning the loss of his dearest friend, he realized that Elysia's death

was not merely a personal tragedy. It was a strategic setback, one that had weakened

the very foundations of Heaven's defenses. Her death was a gaping hole in their ranks,

a void that needed to be filled, not only with new recruits but with renewed faith and

strengthened resolve.

The task before them was immense, and the future uncertain. But as he looked at the

faces of the surviving angels, their expressions etched with a mixture of grief,

determination, and a flicker of hope, he knew that they would not yield. They would

not let Elysia's sacrifice be in vain. They would fight on, they would rebuild, and they

would avenge her death. The battle for Heaven was far from over, but with a renewed

sense of purpose and a heavy heart, Thalos knew, they would prevail. The war had

scarred them deeply, but it had also forged a stronger bond between them, a shared

grief and determination that would bind them together in the trials that lay ahead.

The task was daunting, the road ahead long and perilous, but they would walk it

together, carrying the weight of their shared loss, transforming their pain into a

fierce, unyielding determination to ensure Elysia's sacrifice was not made in vain.

(i just wanted to say sorry to all the people who have clicked on this book, and, i just, didnt have any chapters, or anything, i've been very busy, and forgot, but i looked through my books and realized, so i will try to get the whole book published by tmrw or the next day, for now, the whole book is on wattpad, if you wanna read it)