Lena woke in a room she didn't recognize.
High vaulted ceilings, walls carved with constellations, and a floor that shimmered like moonlight on water. The scent of burning sage clung to the air. Soft, haunting music drifted in from somewhere — not played, but summoned.
She sat up quickly.
Lucien was gone.
But she wasn't alone.
A woman stood by the window, arms crossed, wrapped in a tight black cloak embroidered with thorns. Her hair was silver like starlight, her eyes violet and sharp enough to cut glass.
"You finally woke up," the woman said, not turning around.
"Who are you?" Lena asked, throat dry.
The woman faced her. Her beauty was severe — ethereal and cold, like the edge of a winter storm.
"I'm Seraphine," she said. "God of War."
Lena blinked. "Wait. The Seraphine? I thought—"
"You thought I was dead? Banished?" She smirked. "Close. I was imprisoned for defying the gods. But your little pulse of divine rebellion cracked more than just the hall. You freed me, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. The word hit with both venom and sugar.
"You knew Lucien," Lena said carefully.
Seraphine rolled her eyes. "Knew him? I tried to kill him. Repeatedly. Almost succeeded once."
"Good to know I'm not the only one with commitment issues," Lena muttered.
Seraphine smiled — a rare, almost dangerous expression.
"You were different before," she said, voice softer. "Wild. Ruthless. Brilliant. The gods hated you, and for a moment, I did too. But then... I respected you."
Lena frowned. "And now?"
Seraphine walked toward her.
"Now I'm going to train you."
Lena recoiled. "Excuse me?"
"You're regaining fragments of your past self, but it's chaotic. Painful. You need control, or next time, you'll burn yourself alive from the inside out."
"And Lucien just agreed to this?"
Seraphine leaned in. "Lucien's terrified of what you're becoming. But he also knows he can't stop it. I'm the only one who ever fought beside you. The real you."
A long pause.
Lena finally nodded. "Alright. Teach me."
Seraphine's smile widened. "Good girl."
The training grounds weren't what Lena expected.
No weapons. No armor. Just a circle of obsidian sand surrounded by mirrors. Each one reflected not her current form, but twisted versions of herself — laughing, crying, screaming, dying.
"The enemy is not out there," Seraphine said. "It's in here. These are the selves the gods buried inside you."
Lena stepped forward. Her reflection in the closest mirror grinned back, blood on its lips.
"He'll betray you again," it whispered.
Lena struck the mirror — but it didn't shatter. Instead, it absorbed the hit and pulsed with light.
Pain exploded in her chest.
Seraphine didn't flinch. "You can't fight memories with fists."
"I don't want to remember," Lena gasped.
"But you must. Or they'll control you."
The next mirror showed a younger version of her — innocent, eyes wide with hope.
"Why did you let us die?" it asked.
Lena fell to her knees.
Seraphine placed a hand on her shoulder. "You made impossible choices in your past life. You weren't a hero. You weren't a villain. You were a storm."
Lena looked up, tears on her cheeks. "Then who am I now?"
Seraphine knelt beside her. "That's what we're here to find out."
Night fell.
Lucien returned.
Lena was still in the training circle, hands trembling, face pale but eyes blazing with something new — not power, but clarity.
"You let her train me," she said.
Lucien watched her in silence.
"She showed me what I did. The people I hurt. The ones I tried to save." Her voice cracked. "I don't know how to live with all of it."
Lucien stepped forward, cupped her face.
"You don't have to do it alone."
She wanted to pull away. Wanted to stay angry. But his touch... it steadied her.
"I saw you," she whispered. "In my memories. You weren't always like this. You were cruel. Cold. Distant."
His jaw tightened. "I had to become that. To protect you. To survive long enough to find you again."
"And now?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he leaned in — slowly, carefully, as if asking permission.
Lena didn't stop him.
Their lips met.
And for a moment, the divine realms held their breath.
But far above them, in the Celestial Court, a new player moved their piece on the board.
A young god — masked in gold — watched Lena through a scrying mirror.
"She remembers," the god said.
Behind him, a dozen other deities knelt in shadow.
"It's time," the god whispered. "Begin the purge."