The sun vanished behind the moon, plunging the world into shadow. It was a solar eclipse—the first in twenty years.
As the white sun disappeared behind a perfect black circle, it created the unsettling illusion of God’s eye opening in the heavens, gazing down upon the mortal realm. From that divine vantage point, He witnessed a miraculous wave emanating from a distant cave, spreading through the darkness.
Across the Blasen Mountains, Bahamuts collapsed wherever the energy touched them, falling like empty husks stripped of their souls. The same fate befell those desecrating Karta’s Grand Cathedral with their savage claws. Even the monsters frenzied by the faint human scent wafting from underground shelters toppled onto piles of rubble as the wave reached them.
At the wilderness’s edge, refugees who had been moments from death found themselves suddenly spared. A woman who had fallen scrambled backward in terror until a Bahamut crashed down beside her, the shock rendering her unconscious where she lay.
The rippling power surged beyond Kaisenmier in all directions. In the eastern seas, Bahamuts floated to the surface like dead fish, their vacant eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Those scaling the rocky cliffs of the Rom Archipelago plummeted into the churning foam below.
In the western kingdom of Ruega, the royal Blood Rotation descended into chaos as the eclipse began just as two armies clashed on the plains. War horses trampled blindly over fallen bodies in the sudden darkness. Later, historians would record it as the shortest rotation ever fought.
In the devastated lands of Chesania and Tanbia, most survivors hiding underground remained oblivious to the celestial event unfolding above. Meanwhile, in the frozen northern Whiteland, Bahamuts crashed onto the snowy plains with such force that even the hard-of-hearing polar bears startled at the disturbance.
The circular wave swept across the entire world before converging back upon itself and vanishing. The moment it disappeared, the sun emerged triumphantly from behind the moon. It was truly summer, God’s season. Dazzling sunlight poured down upon the earth like liquid gold.
Everywhere, people stood in awe at the revealed landscape, but the greatest celebration erupted from the wilderness. Before the eclipse, Bahamuts had been snapping at the heels of fleeing citizens. Now, soldiers and civilians alike stared in disbelief at rows of monstrous corpses. Behind them, white clouds spread in a perfect circle from the Blasen Mountains.
After a moment of stunned silence, cheers and reverent cries soared skyward. Even more miraculously, a clear, crystalline river now flowed beside them where only parched earth had existed before.
A river running through the wilderness—a place where not a drop of water had existed—could only be divine intervention. People who beheld the shimmering water proclaimed with one voice that God had blessed their promised land.
The elderly, throats parched from thirst, approached the water with trembling hands. Infants who had been wailing in their parents’ arms were the first to sense the change. As always, the children’s bright smiles returned faster than the adults’, their laughter a chorus of renewal.
Intense sunlight and joyful voices filled the air. Those who had reached the Great Temple first came running with news of another miracle: the head had returned to the sacred statue in the wilderness. The whisper spread from person to person like a holy tide.
“Deus reversus est (God has returned)!”
✦ ✦ ✦
In a cave filled with thousands of corpses, darkness and silence reigned.
“…Veronica.”
Leon’s voice, strangled with grief, repeated the name he had already uttered countless times. His blood-soaked hands trembled as he gripped the jagged bone protruding from his abdomen. He had already failed to remove it several times, but the former holy knight refused to surrender. With one final, desperate effort, his convulsing fingers tightened around the bone. A sickening squelch accompanied its release as he slid down the pillar.
He coughed violently, each spasm sending fresh blood pouring from his wounds. Yet Leon showed no concern for his own fatal injuries. Instead, he stretched his mangled arm toward Veronica’s crumpled form, pulling her against his chest.
“Veronica,” he whispered like a man possessed, a desperate litany against the encroaching darkness.
My mind is fracturing, he thought. The legendary knight who had remained stoic through countless battles now cradled his lover with fingers that shook uncontrollably. He couldn’t even think to check for signs of life. His composure had completely shattered.
I killed her. Murdered her. Forced her into suicide. In his delirium, he believed all the blood staining his hands was hers. His broken mind conjured visions from his past—his mother’s legs as they swung lifelessly.
He was no different from Mecklenburg. His love had bound Veronica to him and driven her to sacrifice. He had pushed the woman more precious than his own soul to death, all for humanity’s sake—for fragile creatures who would exist briefly before vanishing like morning dew.
Dark emotions crawled from the depths of his being as if his very soul had been mortally wounded.
He traced her pale cheek before lowering his lips to hers. Entangled in blood, they made a grotesque picture together—some kind of a tableau of tragic lovers in hell.
If I could only freeze this moment—if I could only hold onto you forever, I’d sacrifice everything else in this cruel world…
Just then, a soft sound escaped her lips as her eyelids fluttered. Leon pulled back instantly, staring down as Veronica forced her heavy eyelids open with what seemed like her last reserves of strength. As his image came into focus in her clouded crimson eyes, her bloodless lips moved with heartbreaking effort.
“H-Help… me.”
Silently, he brought his ear to her mouth. Her voice, metallic and brittle, was barely audible.
“I’m… scared…”
He slowly raised his head, their eyes meeting in devastating intimacy. A single tear formed at the corner of her eye, trailing down her ashen cheek like a diamond catching the faint light.
“At first… I was okay… with it,” she whispered.
Leon remained silent, hanging on her every labored word.
“It didn’t… feel like dying then.”
He watched her struggle to speak, unable to offer anything but his presence.
“But now I’m… scared…” Her voice broke. “I hate… the darkness.”
Her breathing scattered into wheezing sobs. Leon remained frozen as she murmured the words that shattered what remained of his heart.
“I want to live…”
His chest constricted with unbearable pain. After all this time, she was finally confessing what she had kept hidden—the fear she had masked behind brave acceptance, the desire for life she had suppressed for duty’s sake. Only now, at the very end, did she reveal her true feelings. And with that confession came the most heartbreaking tears.
“No. I don’t want to die…”
She was too young to embrace death so willingly. Even hardened knights who lived with mortality’s shadow often faced their end with wide-eyed terror when it finally approached.
Leon’s expressionless mask crumbled, his face contorting with agony.
He tenderly wiped away her tears with his thumb, then leaned forward to press gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders. But it was already too late. All he could offer was the comfort of his embrace, sharing what little warmth remained in his dying body. His soul felt more violently torn than his physical form, which continued to bleed out. He would do anything for her, yet there was nothing he could do to save her now.
Feeling her fragile body tremble against his, he whispered softly, “Don’t be afraid. It’s just darkness. There’s no pain or sadness beyond. It’s okay.”
She whimpered, tears falling steadily.
“The hard part is over,” he soothed, his voice gentle as a caress. “From now on, we’ll never be apart again. If you’re still afraid, I’ll stay right beside you until the end. Just call my name.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. Veronica’s eyes filled once more before closing, a final tear sliding down her cheek. Leon removed the heavy cross necklace from around her throat, as if freeing her from the shackles of her fate. The necklace fell to the stone floor with a hollow sound.
In truth, Leon remained alive only because the cross was exacting its mystical price. Having benefited from the holy relic for three weeks, he would be unable to die for the same duration, even as he yearned for death’s release. He would linger in agony, bleeding and wasting away, while his soul screamed for an end. Some might call it a cruel fate, but to Leon, it was a blessing. Because he was still alive, she wouldn’t have to cross the threshold alone. That knowledge was enough to soothe his shattered heart.
He cradled her head against his armored chest as her eyes closed, dark lashes stark against her pale skin. Her breathing grew shallow as she called to him intermittently, her voice fading with each attempt.
“Leon… Are you… still here…?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I’m right here.”