The Silence of The Abyss

The roar of the two Kings, the screaming collision of light, and the frantic yells of the battle vanished in an instant, replaced by a deep, terrifying silence. It was the sound of a vacuum, of everything important being violently ripped from the world.
I didn't move. I simply sat, clutching Adrian’s feather-light body, staring at the swirling, black maw where the altar and the center of the Heartwood Grove had been. It wasn't just a hole in the ground; it was a hungry wound in the earth, the ragged edges of the collapsing tear still peeling away chunks of the consecrated rock and ancient soil.
Marcus.
The name was a useless gasp in my throat. I couldn't see him. I couldn't feel his presence—that familiar, grounding warmth that was the bedrock of my life. He was gone, pulled into the unstable energy loop alongside the hateful, power-crazed Atlas.
A small, whimpering cry broke my paralysis.
"Mommy..."
It was Sophie. She was trying to push herself off the ground, her face streaked with dirt and blood, her uninjured hand braced against a jagged rock. The adrenaline that had fueled her incredible, selfless tackle was draining away, leaving her pale and shaking.
"Sophie!" I scrambled toward her, still cradling Adrian. "Are you hurt? Where—"
"I'm fine," she insisted, though her voice wavered. She nodded toward her left arm, which was bleeding freely from the wound Atlas had inflicted earlier. "It's just the old cut. Where is Dad? Did he... did he win?"
I hesitated, looking back at the pit. How could I tell my daughter her father had just been swallowed by the earth?
"He stopped him, sweetheart," I said, my voice thick with a lie that was half-truth. "He stopped Atlas. We have to go. Now."
The ground gave a sharp, final jolt—not a massive quake, but a sickening lurch, like a sinking ship settling before the final descent. The edges of the sinkhole were widening, spiderweb cracks racing through the ground toward us. The collapse wasn't over; it was just paused.

The Last Stand of the Grove

I couldn't carry both of them. Adrian was unconscious, and Sophie was barely on her feet. I had to choose the best path to survival.
"Sophie, listen to me," I commanded, forcing control into my voice, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. I gently laid Adrian on the most stable patch of ground I could find, tucking him behind a half-shattered granite monolith. "I need you to grab your brother and follow my exact footsteps. Do you understand? Do not step off my path."
Her eyes, still wide with shock, hardened with a new resolve. She was a princess, and she was a warrior's daughter. "I understand."
I knelt, pressing my lips to Adrian’s cold forehead for a second that felt like an eternity. I had to trust her. I stood, ignoring the throbbing pain in my own side, and focused all my attention on the treacherous ground ahead.
The grove's natural path had been destroyed, but I knew its deepest magic. The flow of power, even in self-destruction, followed the ancient lines of least resistance. I took a deep breath, and for the first time since the fight started, I summoned my own waning, precious magic. It was only enough for a whisper, a flicker of foresight.
I saw faint, ghost-like lines of silver light tracing a path away from the vortex. The last tendrils of the grove's benevolent power, creating an escape hatch.
"Stay close," I muttered, moving forward.
Each step was deliberate, tested. The ground was treacherous—dusty, loose, and threatening to give way. I stepped over a fissure that steamed with residual golden and purple energy. Behind me, I heard Sophie grit her teeth as she struggled to lift Adrian, half-dragging, half-carrying him.
We were almost to the treeline—the boundary between the sacred grove and the outer forest. A mere twenty feet away, but it was twenty feet of broken, unstable rubble.
Then, from the abyss behind us, a noise.
It wasn't a roar. It was a guttural, wet, climbing sound. Something was pulling itself out of the magical wreckage.
I froze, adrenaline flooding my veins again. I didn't dare turn around, knowing that a single moment of hesitation could send us all plunging into the vortex.
"Keep moving, Sophie! Don't look back!" I yelled, pushing myself into a near-run.
The sound grew louder—a massive, tearing sound, followed by the deep, unsettling thump of something heavy landing on solid ground.
I reached the treeline, lunging forward and collapsing onto the relatively untouched, stable soil of the outer forest. I quickly rolled over, extending my hand back to Sophie.
She was just crossing the threshold, dragging Adrian’s body onto the safe ground when I saw him.
It was Atlas. He was covered in black earth and his own blood, the purple energy crackling around him like a shroud of death. His arm was twisted at an impossible angle, and his face was a mask of furious, mangled flesh. But he was alive, and he was staring not at us, but at the place where his brother, the Dragon King, had vanished.
"I won..." he rasped, his voice a broken whisper of triumph and pain. "I won, Marcus! She is mine, and the world is mine!"
His terrifying eyes, two burning points of violet light, snapped from the pit to me. He took one staggering step toward the treeline.
We were safe. We were on stable ground. But he was alive, and he was coming.
"Sophie! RUN!" I yelled, and with a burst of frantic energy, I shoved my daughter and unconscious son deeper into the shadows of the forest, turning back to face the broken King.