Camille choked. Mouriana’s grip was unrelenting as her claws dug into Camille’s throat like she was snuffing out a candle.

I slammed my hands against the divine shield, but it wouldn’t yield. It held me inside, keeping me exactly where the elders wanted me, which was completely useless right now.

“Let her go!” I snarled, slamming my fists against the barrier, fire crackling along my skin even though I already knew it wouldn’t reach her.

Mouriana barely glanced at me, her focus still on Camille, tilting her head with that arrogant curiosity, as if trying to figure out why she was still struggling when it was so clearly pointless.

“You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” Mouriana mused, her grip tightening, her nails pressing harder, drawing thin lines of blood. “Dying once wasn’t enough for you?”

Camille—gods, Camille”

But Camille grinned through the pain, through the pressure threatening to snap her throat in half. She had the audacity to grin.

“It’s rude,” Camille rasped, her voice rough, strained, “to hold someone by the neck when they’re trying to set you on fire.”

Then she lit herself on fire, not just her hands or a controlled blast of magic. Her entire body erupted into a firestorm, flames roaring outward in a violent explosion, turning her into a living inferno.

Mouriana snarled, her hand ripping back, shadows whipping around her, trying to snuff Camille out, but Camille didn’t let her.

She twisted in the air, flipping mid-fall, and landing in a crouch, the ground below her scorching, warping from the sheer heat of her presence.

Then she launched herself forward, her fist cocked back, and Mouriana barely had time to block before Camille’s fire-clad punch collided with her chest.

The impact rippled through the temple, the shockwave sending cracks through the corrupted stone, and Mouriana moved. Camille had hit her so hard, she actually stumbled back. Not nearly far enough, but it was something.

It was the first real hit to land on Mouriana since this nightmare began.

Mouriana stared down at the burn on her chest, the faint flickers of red fire still sticking to her, before looking back up at Camille.

Then, slowly, she laughed.

“You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” she mused, rolling her shoulders as the burn mark faded from her skin like it had never been there.

Camille spat blood onto the temple floor. “I try,” she said.

She didn’t waste anytime before she attacked again. Fire against shadow. Heat against abyss.

It was a violent collision, and the temple trembled under all their fury. For a minute, I thought it would cave in on itself or simply explode.

I could do nothing but watch, still trapped inside the damn barrier, still being flooded with power from the Inpouring Spell, unable to fight, help, or move”

Except—I could move now and wasn’t as drained as I had been, or teetering on the brink of collapse.

The light was still pouring in and seeping into me, but now that I actually looked up into it, focused on it, I could hear the hymn clearly. It filled me completely. And suddenly, the sounds of battle faded away. The clash of fire and darkness, the growls and snarls of monsters all gone. Drowned behind the song of power flowing into me.

The light moved through my veins, magic so unrelenting, I could taste it, feel it settling into my bones. Was Gaia interfering, or was this something else?

I had no idea what this Inpouring Spell really was, only that Camille had recognized it and the Oriental elders were behind it. And if they were casting it now, then it was a last resort meant to create a force that could rival the dark.

A whisper drifted through me, soft, sweet, tight with command.

“It is your duty, as the Supreme Sovereign of Wridel, to protect it against anything. Now, get up and fight!”

Gaia, I assumed. Or was it just the power that was speaking?

My breath caught in my throat, like I’d swallowed an entire storm. It took a moment to process what was happening.

The temple groaned around me, the stone trembling, vibrating with a pulse. The power drained through me, each pulse filling every crack in my tired, drained body, flooding my veins with power and strength. It was like molten gold, melting the last of my exhaustion, reviving me.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the shield lifted. Power coiled around me, boundless, different from anything I had ever felt before. Not like Mouriana’s corruption, or her insidious grip on magic. This power didn’t feel borrowed.

I exhaled sharply, hands still shaking as I forced them in front of me. I stared at them for a moment, almost waiting for them to fall apart, but instead, the magic rumbled inside me. It was like a storm roaring through my soul unchained.

I had never felt this strong or limitless before, and it made me understand why Mouriana was the way she was. Absolute power was intoxicating, dangerous, and now, it was mine. A part of me wanted to smile, but I forced the impulse down, focusing on the task at hand.

I turned back to Mouriana, and she was watching me carefully, but she had finally, finally, stopped underestimating me.

And that, I thought, was a start.

“Still banking on borrowed power?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “It still wouldn’t be enough.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, I glanced at Camille, sprawled exhausted on the other side of the altar, the fight clearly having worn her thin. She had held her own against Mouriana, had given me time to get here, and now it was my turn.

I raised my hand, and with a single flick of my wrist, I pulled her back into the recesses of my subconscious. Where she could rest, regain her strength, and rebuild from the well of power now coursing through me. I wasn’t going to let her get pulled into this any more, this was mine to finish.

“How considerate,” Mouriana mused, tilting her head.

Then, she smiled again, that slow, mocking curve of her lips that made me want to incinerate her on sight.

“But it won’t matter.”

I rolled my shoulders, letting the power coursing through me settle, feeling the magic coil in my bones like a storm waiting to break.

Mouriana tilted her head, then raised a hand and the world exploded in chaos.

A downpour of lightning rained from the sky, not just wild, untamed bolts, but honed spears of destruction, each one seeking my body like they had my name written on them in blood.

I vaulted backward, my body moving faster than ever, every fibre of my being screaming.

The first bolt struck where I had just been standing, shattering the stone, sending shards of debris flying.

I caught the second one. My hand shot up, and instead of dodging, I let the lightning hit me full force—and it didn’t burn.

It fused into me, the energy coiling into my palm, crackling along my fingers, and I saw Mouriana’s expression shift.

Oh, she didn’t look worried—she wasn’t that foolish—but she looked curious.

I clenched my fist, twisting the lightning into something else, forcing it under my control, shaping it into a spear of pure energy. Then I threw it back at her.

Mouriana barely had time to raise a shield, and when the lightning struck, it sent her skidding across the temple floor, her darkness writhing violently against the impact.

Not so fun when it’s coming at you, huh?

I didn’t stop, I launched forward, pushing the new strength in my limbs, crossing the distance between us in an instant.

She met my attack head-on, our blows colliding with such force that the temple’s pillars split apart, the air itself distorting from the sheer power crashing against each other. The roof of the temple was completely gone and the sky above us was a swirling vortex of clouds.

She struck with shadows, a whip of void energy lashing toward me, but I countered. I willed the temple’s fallen debris to rise, and with a flick of my fingers, stone and shattered marble flew forward, slamming into her mid-strike.

Mouriana snarled, but before she could retaliate, I summoned my a horde of ancestors.

From the depths of my magic, from the power that had been passed down through generations of Oriental witches, I called forth the spirits of those who had come before me.

Flames coalesced, bones formed, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone.

Warriors—witches of fire, earth, air and water, spectral beings dripping in magic, their eyes glowing embers, their presence ferocious.

Mouriana laughed, her power coiling in response, and she raised her hands to meet my challenge. The ground split open., and her own army rose to meet mine. A horde of demons, grotesque and twisted, their bodies bending in unnatural ways, their eyes nothing but endless pits of hunger.

The temple erupted into chaos, as we clashed, the fight shaking the foundation of Wridel itself. As far as I was concerned, the temple would not survive this.

My warriors of fire tore through her demons, my flames burning through their forms, but Mouriana’s army was endless, her power unrelenting.

Still, we fought.

Every blow shattered the air, the force of our strikes sending shock waves rippling outward, distorting the fabric of reality. Her strikes didn’t hurt or drain me, they barely carried any real damage any more.

She called forth a storm, lightning crashing wildly, the sky splitting open, and I called forth a firestorm, golden flames consuming the temple, sealing the skies against her wrath.

And still, Mouriana smirked through it all.

“Now this,” she purred, twisting through my next attack, her darkness coiling and reshaping itself, “is the fight I’ve been waiting for.”

It was a bloodbath, with each strike destroying the temple’s structure. Flames roared, lightning tore through the sky, shadows twisted into weapons, and the ground cracked under the sheer force of power colliding.

Mouriana was relentless. She countered every attack I threw at her with something worse. Every inch I gained, she took a mile.

“Is that all, Celeste?” she purred, dodging a blast of golden fire effortlessly, her wings unfurling, stretching outward in a magnificent display of her dominance. “You have all this borrowed power, all this light—and yet, you still cannot touch me.”

I gritted my teeth, my breath ragged, sweat dripping down my temples. She was right. Even with everything I threw at her, she remained unfazed.

The power of Gaia’s Inpouring had made me stronger than ever, but Mouriana had existed for centuries, consuming fragment after fragment of dark magic, growing into something beyond mortal comprehension.

And I was losing to her!

She knew it and was delighted in it.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Mouriana murmured, raising a single hand, darkness coiling around her fingers like living smoke. “You are not my equal. I was forged from the abyss, Celeste. I am the beginning of all things terrible. You are just a girl playing with fire.”

She snapped her fingers, and the sky exploded. A storm of shadows and lightning rained down, the air vibrating with the force of the attack, magic compressing so violently that the very atmosphere warped around us.

I had no time to react or summon a shield. The impact was instant. I was slammed backward, my body crashing through the temple ruins, stone, and debris collapsing around me.

Pain shot through every nerve, my limbs screaming in protest as I struggled to push myself up. In my mind, Camille stirred, and I forced her to stay out.

The realization that I was losing hit harder than the attack itself. If I lost, Mouriana just would absorb me and take my power. There was no way I was letting that happen.

She landed in front of me, stepping gracefully over the rubble, her eyes burning with cruel amusement.

“Now, little witch,” she murmured, crouching down, her hand closing around my throat before I could move, “shall we end this?”

Her grip tightened, magic pressing against my skin, forcing my own power inward, crushing it before I could summon another spell.

I clawed at her wrist, but she was draining me, consuming me slowly. Her grip tightened, her nails pressing into my throat, darkness coiling around me, pressing down with a force meant to crush me completely.

Mouriana’s grip slacked. There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but she masked it well. She wanted me to know and accept that I was nothing before her.

That’s not true, is it?

There was that voice again, and now that I really paid attention, it sounded just like mine.

You are Celeste Le Torneau, Supreme Sovereign of Wridel.

A slow exhale. My pulse steadied, the magic inside me settling not in the chaotic, surging way it had before, but in a smooth, sharp, effortless way. Like a crown lowering onto a ruler’s head.

She is nothing without you. It’s your sovereignty that makes her powerful. She’d be obsolete without it.

It gave me pause. Mouriana was strong—unfathomably so. But her strength was tethered to Wridel, and Wridel was mine. She was a queen without a throne, a force without a dominion, clawing at the remains of a kingdom that had never belonged to her.

And suddenly, I understood why she engineered that contract, why she wove herself into my existence, why she made me feel like I needed her.

As long as I believed she was above me, as long as I was blind to the extent of my superiority, I would always be inferior to her. But in truth she was nothing. I didn’t need an inpouring of power to cast her out. I only needed to acknowledge what had always been true.

She existed here because I allowed it, and I was done allowing it.

I lifted my chin, locking eyes with her, no fear, no hesitation—only the knowledge of who I was.

“Enough.”

I did not need to roar, I understood that now.

The air fractured around us, and Mouriana staggered away as the abyss closed in, twisting and tightening like it regretted answering her call for so long. Her wings snapped open, twitching violently. The temple shook, its ancient pillars groaning from the beating it had endured. The core and ley lines of Wridel had heard me and were responding now.

Mouriana’s crimson eyes flickered with confusion cutting through her malice and arrogance.

“You’”

Her voice cracked, but I didn’t let her finish.

I reached for her, not with fire, or force, but with her own mind. I dove into it the way I had learned to do since my mind-bending ability woke, twisting the crevices of her thoughts, peeling back her carefully constructed walls with nothing more than a whisper.

“I’ve had enough of you, Mouriana,” I murmured, my voice curling into her subconscious like a blade pressed to the throat.

Her entire body locked up, shadows convulsing, struggling against a force she had never been forced to face before.

Me.

“Don’t forget your place. You exist only because I allow it,” I continued, fastening my left hand behind my back, shifting into a posture of absolute authority.

She snarled, her wings flaring, her fingers curling into claws, but it didn’t matter. I was already inside her head.

“You think your little mind games will save you?” she hissed, her voice vibrating through the temple walls, shaking the ruins as if she could command the stone to resist me.

But even the ley lines wasn’t listening to her any more. They were listening to me now, as they should have.

The shadows at her feet shrank back, like frightened creatures, as if they feared being dragged into the abyss with her. I saw it in the tension along her jaw, the way her fingers tensed inward, grasping for something that was already slipping through her grasp.

Mouriana had never truly believed this moment would come. That she, the eternal Queen of Darkness, could ever be forced to kneel. That she could lose, most of all, to me.

Her memories bled to her. The moment Gaia had sealed her away, and her fragments were stripped from her, the centuries of wandering, of waiting, of knowing she was nothing.

I let her feel it all again. The helplessness she despised. The emptiness she refused to acknowledge. The fact that she had been undone before—and now, she would be undone again.

Her magic lashed out wildly, reaching for anything to cling to, but nothing in my sovereignty was hers to wield any longer.

“You are powerful, Mouriana,” I said, stepping closer, my movements steady, my voice calm, hands still clasped neatly behind my back. “But I am sovereign. And my word is law in my sovereignty.”

She gasped, her magic leaving her, the abyss tearing open, her existence shattering. Her wings spread out, desperate, but they failed her, like everything else had.

“You only exist because I allow it,” I told her, eyes narrowing so she realised that I knew the truth she’d done her hardest to keep from me.

I took one last step forward, meeting her gaze with the full authority of my rank.

“And now?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came.

“I am done. Be gone from Wridel.”

The temple shook, and the darkness collapsed below her as Wridel cast her out. Mouriana let out a final roar, her wings thrashing, but it was too late.

The abyss pulled her in all directions, her form splintered, shattering, shadows separating from her like threads in a quilt.

The last thing I saw of her were her eyes, still burning, still full of defiance, even as she was ripped from existence. And then she was gone.

The temple fell silent.

The darkness was gone.

Mouriana was gone.

It really was that simple, in the end. A sovereign’s decree.