IV. Duskfall Arc

Love Shattered the Heavens

The day of Eria and Nimue’s wedding approached, and a shadow grew in Nimue’s heart. The joy of their union was clouded by her mounting fears—fears that had taken root and thrived in the poisoned soil of her insecurities. On the eve of their ceremony, as Eria slept beside her for the first time, she lay awake, consumed by the whispers planted by Mildor, the oracle who had preyed on her vulnerability.

Her thoughts spiraled into desperation, and in the silence of the night, she made her decision. With trembling hands, she took Eria’s sacred dagger, Arcblade, a blade forged in celestial light. Its edge was sharp enough to cleave divinity, a weapon meant to serve justice, now destined for betrayal.

Nimue slipped into the chambers of Anias, whose calm presence filled the room like a warm embrace. Anias stirred as Nimue approached, her divine senses attuned to the weapon hidden beneath Nimue’s cloak. But the goddess did not move to stop her. Instead, she turned to her with a serene smile, her eyes filled with understanding.

“You carry a heavy burden, child,” Anias said, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. “Come, speak your heart.”

Nimue hesitated, the weight of her plan clashing with the warmth of Anias’s presence. “I… I wanted to speak with you,” she stammered. “To ask for advice. About my fears… about what lies ahead.”

Anias nodded, inviting her to sit. Despite knowing Nimue’s intent, she chose to listen, to offer the young woman the compassion she desperately needed. As they talked, Nimue conjured imaginary concerns to delay her hand, hoping to find the courage—or the madness—to act.

Anias, ever patient, spoke of the beauty in mortality, of how life’s fleeting nature made every moment precious. “Mortality,” she said, “is the greatest reward. To cherish the present, to love deeply in the face of loss—that is what makes life truly sacred.”

But her words only deepened Nimue’s anguish. The young woman's face twisted in rage. “You don’t understand!” she cried. “You never could! You are eternal—perfect! You will never grow old, never lose your beauty, never fear being left behind!”

Her fury erupted, and with trembling hands, she drew Arcblade and plunged it into Anias’s heart. The blade, forged to pierce the divine, sank deep, and the goddess gasped, her light faltering.

In that moment, the world trembled. The children of the gods and Augon himself felt the wound as though it were their own. Marael’s fury erupted in the skies, his grief and anger tearing through the heavens. Winds howled with destructive force, and the clash of clouds echoed like the drums of war.

Eria was the first to reach the chambers. He burst through the doors to find his mother’s lifeblood staining the floor and Nimue standing over her with the dagger in hand. Consumed by rage, Eria’s eyes flamed with fury, the golden light in his irises blazing like molten suns. His steps echoed across the chamber as he advanced toward Nimue, the air around him growing heavy with the weight of his wrath. She backed away instinctively, her trembling hands still clutching the dagger slick with Anias’s blood. “Nimue,” he growled, his voice resonating like thunder through the room. “What have you done?”

Before she could stammer a response, his hand shot out, closing around her throat with unrelenting force. With a single motion, he lifted her from the ground, her feet dangling helplessly in the air. Nimue’s wide, terrified eyes locked with his, but there was no recognition in them—only pure, unbridled rage. But Anias, even in her fading moments, stopped him with a gentle touch. “No, my son,” she said, her voice weak but steady. “Do not let anger claim you. Her heart was twisted by darkness, not malice. Let her go.” Eria released Nimue, his grip loosening as she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. She gasped and coughed violently, clutching her neck as the color slowly returned to her face.

Nimue, now overcome by terror and self-loathing, Anias’s forgiveness cut deeper than any blade, and the weight of her mistake crushed her. With a final, panicked glance at the dying goddess, she turned and fled, disappearing into the night.

Eria knelt beside his mother, tears streaming down his face as he held her in his arms. “Mother, please… stay with me.” “I wasn’t fast enough,” he whispered, his voice trembling with guilt. “I should have been here. I should have protected you.”

Anias smiled at him, her light dim but unwavering. “My time has passed, my son. But my dream lives on—in you, in this land, in the people who call it home.” She placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “Marael will not forgive this. He will unleash his fury upon Arcania, and in doing so, he will destroy all I have worked for. You must protect this land, Eria.”

With the last of her strength, Anias conjured a radiant orb—the Spark of Light. She placed it in Eria’s hands. “This light… it is a part of me. It was the first light I ever gave, illuminating the void when your father, Marael, first discovered me. It is the essence of my being, the hope I brought to the darkness. Now, it belongs to you.”

Her glowing began to fade, and with a final, peaceful sigh, Anias closed her eyes. Her body dissolved into a blinding flash of light, a beacon illuminating the entire realm. Mortals and gods alike gazed at the sky, witnessing the passing of the Eternal Light.

In the silence that followed, grief turned to resolve. Eria stood, the Spark of Light glowing in his hands, and vowed to honor his mother’s dying wish. The war to protect Arcania, the last remnant of Anias’s dream, had begun.