Atticus still hadn’t woken up. Two days had passed, and yet he remained unconscious.
Anastasia hadn’t left his side for a single moment. She stayed beside him, her hand gently brushing through his snow-white hair.
Despite the healing potions Avalon had given her, Anastasia’s body still showed signs of age. The burns and wounds had healed, but the toll Elysia’s life-draining ability had taken on her was visible.
She had aged, the vitality stolen from her far more than what any potion could restore.
She sat in silence, her eyes soft as she looked at her son lovingly. Arya, silently standing in the shadows, remained quiet, watching over them both.
Since the battle had ended, Arya had been unusually silent, her thoughts filled with deep shame, hidden from everyone.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Ravenstein mansion, Avalon stepped out of a room, his eyes red and bloodshot, his face pale and weary.
His entire mood was off, and the fire molecules that normally danced around him with warmth now flickered coldly, reflecting the sadness and anger within him.
As he walked, he met Magnus standing just outside the door. Magnus’s presence was as heavy as ever, but this time, Avalon sensed something different in his father—something he had never sensed before. Sadness. Unwillingness.
It was the first time Avalon had ever seen Magnus like this. The man who had always been confident, always certain of everything, now stood with a weight on his shoulders that even he couldn’t seem to shake.
The two men—father and son—locked eyes for a moment. Neither spoke, but there was no need for words.
Both understood the depth of the pain the other was feeling. In this vast estate, surrounded by family and power, they were simply two grieving men.
They nodded to each other in silent understanding, neither of them speaking as they passed by one another.
Avalon paused for a second, watching as Magnus came to a stop in front of the door. And then, in a sight Avalon never thought he’d see, Magnus—a man who had shaken the entire human domain only days before—took a deep breath.
He steadied himself before gathering the courage to enter the room.
Avalon continued his walk, his legs moving aimlessly through the estate. His gaze was distant, his mind unfocused. He moved like a man lost, a hollow shell of the warrior he once was.
Soon, three figures joined him—Sirius, Lyanna, and Nathan. They said nothing, but their presence was enough.
They had grown up together, shared victories and losses, and they knew Avalon better than anyone. There was nothing they could say to ease his pain.
They couldn’t bring back what he had lost. But they could be there, walking beside him in silence.
As Avalon’s absent-minded walk led them toward a building on the southern side of the estate, the three exchanged silent glances, their expressions shifting as they realized where Avalon was heading.
This was where they kept their prisoners.
Avalon was the head of the Ravenstein family, one of the Four Stars, and together with his comrades, there was no part of the estate they couldn’t access.
The building was stark and cold, designed to hold even the most powerful of enemies. And in the transparent cell before them, meditating in the center of the room, was Helios Stellaris. As soon as he saw the group enter, Helios stood, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“What do you want?” he growled, his voice low and full of hatred.
Avalon didn’t respond. His face remained blank as he approached the door to the prison, ignoring the AI’s warning as he unlocked it and stepped inside.
The room had been specially designed to block the use of bloodlines and to reduce the strength of anyone inside to that of a novice. It was a place where even the most dangerous individuals could be held in check.
Helios tensed as Avalon entered, but then he smirked, cracking his knuckles as he took a step forward. “Well, well… look at this. No bloodlines. No mana. Guess I’ll be able to beat you to a pulp before I die, huh?”
To Helios, the reason he had lost to Avalon before was because of the latter’s overwhelming strength, mana, and powerful bloodline. But now, all of that was gone. This was his chance—his one opportunity to get back at the man who had humiliated him.
Helios took another step toward Avalon, but before his foot could even land, a brutal BAM echoed through the cell.
Avalon’s punch connected with Helios’s face with a sickening crunch, jerking the man’s head back violently. The smirk on Helios’s face vanished, replaced with shock and pain.
And then, it wasn’t even a fight.
Avalon pounced on him, unleashing a torrent of punches that landed with devastating force. Each hit was harder than the last, fueled by a grief that had no other outlet.
Helios, dazed and unable to defend himself, crumpled beneath the relentless assault.
Sirius, Lyanna, and Nathan stood outside the cell, watching the scene unfold without saying a word.
They understood what Avalon was going through. To some, it might seem wrong—after all, the Obsidian Order had been responsible for Freya’s impending death, not the Stellaris family. But grief didn’t care about logic or fairness.
Avalon had never been a perfect man. He was a grieving son, and they had no intention of interrupting his pain.
…
Magnus stood at the doorway of the room he had just entered.
He had fought countless battles, faced impossible odds, and yet this—this scene before him—was something he had dreaded with a fear deeper than any war could bring.
There, lying weakly on the bed, was Freya. Elysia had unfortunately siphoned enough life force from Freya that her body could no longer sustain life.
Freya’s calm, serene eyes lifted to meet his, and a soft smile curled at the corners of her lips. “You finally came to see me, huh?” she teased gently, her voice weak but still filled with the same warmth it had always carried.
Magnus said nothing and just kept staring at her.
Freya’s smile widened slightly, and despite the frailty of her body, her spirit still shone in her eyes. “You always were the strong, silent type… but this is a bit much, don’t you think?”
