Ash still lingered in the Soul Realm. But the skies had cleared.
Lucien knelt alone, her mother's stone-like body cradled in her arms. Her breath shook. Tears spilled freely—hot, angry, real.
Her aura flared so violently it split the realm's fog. Shadows scattered. Spirits fled. Even the walls trembled.
She wasn't the same anymore.
From the distance, Mira and Elias arrived—stunned by the scene before them.
Mira stepped forward, voice soft.
"I'm sorry we didn't come sooner…"
Lucien didn't answer. She held her mother tighter.
"We have to go back," Mira added, gentle but firm.
But Elias stepped beside her, voice low.
"Not yet."
"We're finding Laeticia first."
Lucien looked up. Her voice was hoarse, but clear.
"I can help."
Elias raised a brow. "How?"
She rose slowly. Her eyes burned like live glyphs.
"I'll ask the Soul Realm."
Elias blinked. "Please tell me that doesn't mean another dream sequence."
Lucien side-eyed him.
"Stay here and what—weep with your shadows?"
Even in grief, her sass still landed sharp.
Mira cracked a tired smile.
"Let's move. If the Soul Realm's talking, we better listen."
And so, they walked deeper into the glow.
Because now, Lucien wasn't just grieving
She was ready to rewrite fate.
Lucien moved forward—shoulders heavy, soul heavier.
Power pulsed through her now. It surged in her blood, hummed beneath her skin.
But even that power couldn't silence one brutal truth:
You can't raise the dead.
Not here. Not even with love.
Two guardians blocked her path—tall, faceless, cloaked in chainmail woven from pure incantation.
"I need an audience," Lucien said.
"With who?" one asked.
Her voice didn't waver.
"The King of the Soul Realm."
The air shifted.
Even the fog recoiled.
The guardians stiffened.
"No mortal—not even a Shaman's heir—may request that."
Lucien stepped closer.
"I'm not requesting."
Glyphs around her glowed red, reacting to her pain, her loss, her fury.
"I'm not here for resurrection. I already lost my mother.
And someone else—someone I swore to protect—is still out there. Trapped. Hunted."
"I'm here to ask for permission…"
Her voice sharpened.
"To break the laws of this realm."
Silence.
Then—
The guardians stepped aside.
A staircase revealed itself, spiraling downward, lit by soulfire and the names of the forgotten.
Mira whispered, "You sure about this?"
Lucien glanced back.
"Nope."
Elias shrugged.
"Sounds like our kind of mess."
Together, they descended.
Toward the throne.
Toward judgment.
Toward a truth none of them were ready for
The descent wasn't quiet.
It was alive.
Every step they took echoed with whispers—forgotten names, restless regrets, secrets clawing out of the walls, begging to be heard.
Mira gritted her teeth.
"This place isn't just creepy… it's hungry."
Lucien didn't speak. Her focus didn't waver.
But deep inside, her grief still throbbed like a second heartbeat.
Her mother's death.
A father she never knew.
Now this—an audience with something ancient and unspeakable.
And she could feel it, just beyond the spiral…
The Soul King was waiting.