Entry #21

Louis awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, eyes wide in panic. His body surged upright as though still trapped in battle.

“Stay down!” Ama-Lurra’s voice rang sharp yet gentle as she rushed to his side. She pressed her hand to his shoulder. “You need to rest!”

Louis blinked, vision blurry, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Am I… dead?”

Ama-Lurra let out a breath of pure relief. “It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Before he could respond, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Whoa—okay, okay…” Louis muttered, awkwardly patting her back.

She pulled away slightly, eyes shimmering. “It’s my fault. I was the one who suggested to Father… to summon a mortal from a distant land to fight for us.”

Louis shook his head. “Ama-Lurra, it’s all right. I made the choice. And I’ll keep choosing to help.”

She nodded, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Father wants to see you.”

“Are my comrades here too?”

“They helped carry you back. Joaquin never left your side.”

Louis, still bandaged and weary, walked with Ama-Lurra to Talos’s hall.

There, every god whose trial he had overcome stood waiting. Their presence felt like standing before a pantheon. The air hummed with ancient energy.

Talos stepped forward. “Congratulations, Louis Delacroix. You’ve mastered every one of my children’s elements.”

Louis bowed respectfully.

Ilazki approached and presented a sheathed weapon wrapped in rich cloth. “The sword Lamia broke—I’ve reforged it.”

Talos added, “Consider this our offering. A symbol of our trust… and your courage.”

Louis unsheathed the blade. It shimmered with threads of all seven elements woven together like veins in polished obsidian.

“Thank you,” Louis said, deeply moved. “But I wouldn’t be here without my comrades—and all of you. You gave me the chance.”

Talos’s gaze turned solemn. “Now only one task remains: the cleansing of this island from the Xeolstor Manifestation.”

Louis nodded. “And Tenebrae?”

“We’ll discuss that… later,” Talos said. “Tonight, celebrate. Tomorrow, we will purge the island of its curse.”

The celebration roared across Ama-Lurra’s camp. Fires were lit, songs were sung, and laughter filled the night.

Louis and Ama-Lurra sat beneath a tree, apart from the others, bathed in moonlight.

He turned to her. “What happened… before I woke up?”

Ama-Lurra’s expression dimmed. “You had a hole in your chest. Courtesy of my mother. You were gone. Mira’s outburst of Imaginae Energy saved us… and you. Your comrades helped me bring you back. You were unconscious for nearly three days.”

Louis stared at his hands. “A lot happened, huh?”

“Too much.” She gave a small smile. “But I’m glad you’re back.” Her hand slipped into his.

He looked at her. “Me too.”

Across the camp, Gabriel chuckled, nudging Aide. “Looks like your sister’s got a thing for the champion.”

Aide smirked. “Seems that way.”

Meanwhile, Mira yawned deeply and rubbed her eyes.

“I’ve wasted too much magic tonight,” she said, swaying.

“I’ll take care of you,” Joaquin offered, rising with her.

He led her to her tent and stood outside, thoughts twisting inside him like vines.

“Louis has a destiny. Gabriel has Aide. Mira’s a prodigy. But me? What am I, really? What’s left for someone like me?”

He glanced at Mira, already fast asleep, then quietly turned away.

Back at the fire, Ama-Lurra rose.

“I should prepare for tomorrow’s mission,” she said.

Louis lifted a brow. “You sure? Don’t want to spend a little more time with me?”

She chuckled softly. “Tempting. But duty calls.”

He watched her leave, then took a sip of his drink—and froze.

In the reflection of the glass, he saw himself, but not alive—a dead man, pale, hollow-eyed, staring back.

The liquid shattered against the floor.

“Who’s there?”

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the darkness. A figure stepped from the shadows, dressed in an immaculate black coat, carrying a scythe that glinted like moonlight on blood.

“So you’re the great Louis Delacroix.” The man grinned. “Big fan.”

Louis’s hand instinctively reached for his sword. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Erio. Mind signing something for me?”

He flipped open a black notebook, revealing a blank page.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

His fingers drummed the paper rhythmically, unnervingly.

Louis felt a cold chill crawl down his spine.

“You know,” Erio continued, “everyone thinks they’ll escape me. But they never do.”

Louis launched forward, blade drawn—but Erio met the attack with his scythe, flicking the sword aside with ease.

“Slow. Sloppy. Sad.” He clicked his tongue. “You’ve mastered elements… but you’ve never met death before.”

Louis attacked again, this time using every element he’d learned—lightning-fast strikes, fire surges, water pressure cuts—but Erio simply dodged.

Without breaking a sweat, he caught Louis by the throat and slammed him into the ground.

“You’re not living up to expectations, Champion,” he whispered.

Then came the pain.

A blow to the forehead.

Blood.

Louis gasped, his vision spinning. The gods had never wanted to kill him—but this man? He rejoiced in it.

“Ahh…” Erio inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of fear.”

Louis scrambled backward, seeing flashes of his life. His victories. His losses. His family. His friends.

“Is your life flashing before your eyes?” Erio asked, grinning wide.

He kicked Louis’s sword across the dirt.

“Pick it up,” he hissed. “Pick. It. Up.”

But Louis turned and ran.

Erio didn’t chase. Instead, he looked at the black notebook in his hand, still blank.

“Now that was fun.”

A new figure emerged from the darkness. Taller. His skin shimmered like a night sky, and his eyes were galaxies in motion.

“Mauma.”

“Big brother,” the new figure said. “The people are all asleep now.”

“Thank you,” Erio said. “I love a good chase.”

He looked into the night, where Louis had vanished.

“Run, Louis Delacroix. Run far. But we’ll meet again.”

And in the stillness, only the wind whispered…

Entry# 21 End