[3rd Person POV – Soul Chamber, Beneath Elmer Academy]
The hybrid body began to twitch.
What was once a graceful dominance became jerky and fractured. The grin that had once split their face like a cruel crown now cracked into something... wrong. A shiver ran through the chamber, deeper than sound. Something was breaking.
Kael'ven stumbled back, his hands curling as if trying to keep something inside, trying to stay.
Helga felt it first. The pulse.
She opened her eyes just in time to see his form lurch.
Her lips parted.
"Fin…?"
BOOM.
An invisible force blasted outward.
Helga was thrown back across the dais, crashing against the floor, her golden greatsword skittering beside her with a heavy clang. She tried to push up again, but the weight of the blow had left a fracture across her ribs. She winced, eyes fluttering open just in time to see the horror unfolding.
Kael'ven was seething now. His face, his shared face, contorted as black and red energy surged up his arms in reverse. His veins glowed with rebellion. His body was being pulled in two directions—one clawing to stay, the other rejecting him violently.
"No, no, no," Kael'ven growled through clenched teeth. "You dare cast me out? Me?"
Cracks split his arms like porcelain under pressure. Fissures ran across his shoulders, splitting skin like molten glass.
"This body was mine! You were mine!"
He turned, desperate, face twitching like a madman searching for a foothold in the storm.
And then—
Saelira.
She stood where she had fallen, watching him.
Waiting.
"Saelira…" Kael'ven rasped, stumbling toward her. "Daughter of my will…"
He reached her side, and like a serpent slipping through tall grass, leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.
He whispered something.
Her eyes widened.
Once.
Then again.
And then…
She smiled.
Not out of joy.
But purpose.
"…Yes, Father."
Without another word, she raised her hands, her fingers twitching in precise, maddening rhythm. The air around them shimmered and then cracked.
The shackles returned.
But not like before.
These were heavier, more intricate, each etched with the mark of the siphon's core. They slithered from the chamber floor like hungry vines, snapping around Kael'ven's limbs. Arms. Legs. Chest. Neck.
Kael'ven didn't resist.
He smiled.
Let it happen.
The tendrils dragged him upward once more—but this time, they didn't just bind.
They connected.
A vein of raw, soul energy, and siphon light arced from his chest into the siphon itself.
He threw his head back and laughed, an awful, triumphant noise that shook the foundations of the chamber.
Helga's blood ran cold.
He wasn't being bound.
He was merging.
Not with Fin.
Not with a vessel.
But with the siphon itself.
Kael'ven had one last gambit to play.
The hybrid dangled in the air, held aloft by the runed shackles now fused with the siphon itself. Kael'ven's face twitched violently, spasming between Fin's youthful defiance and his own ancient, monstrous sneer. His body convulsed, twisting unnaturally. Veins of black soul energy lit up across his chest like lightning trapped beneath glass.
"FUCK YOU KAEL'VEN!!" Fin exclaimed.
Then—
Crack.
A hairline fracture split across the siphon's core. The violet runes pulsed once, then surged violently with a blinding white flare.
Kael'ven/Fin's head snapped back. The mouth opened wide in a silent scream as the shackles began to burn into his flesh. The lines of cursed soul magic etched across his form began to reject him violently. His form twisted, shimmered, and then...
BOOOOOOOM!!!
The explosion wasn't a fire. It wasn't heat.
It was everything.
A pulse of souls erupted outward like a nova, shattering the upper tiers of the chamber. Stone turned to dust. Steel was reduced to ribbons. The ceiling detonated in a vortex of purple, black, and red light.
Saelira was flung backward into the far wall, her body ricocheting and falling into a heap, limbs twitching, blood pouring from her ears and nose.
And Kael'ven—
Kael'ven was screaming.
A warped, hateful, furious scream as his hybrid form thrashed against the sky-bound shackles that now fed the siphon instead of drawing from it.
Every part of his being rejected the reversal.
He had been the predator.
Now he was the fuel.
And as the ritual chamber collapsed into chaos, one truth became violently, horrifyingly clear.
Kael'ven had miscalculated.
The body he'd tried to own…
It was no longer his to take.
...
It took nearly an hour for the silence to settle.
An hour for the last chunk of stone to crash from above.
An hour for the screams to fade into whispers.
Then, a low gasp.
A cough.
And a hand twitched.
Fin's.
His fingers curled weakly against the cracked obsidian, soot and blood clinging to his skin like a second skin. His breaths were shallow, lips parted, face ghost-pale—but there was life in him. Somehow. Still.
He groaned and pushed himself up with trembling elbows. His entire body screamed in protest.
"...Ugh. What hit me… A god? A mountain? Hell's backhand?"
His voice was hoarse. But it was his voice. Not layered. Not corrupted. Not Kael'ven's.
Just Fin.
Helga, slumped a few feet away behind a slab of fractured stone, stirred. Her eyes blinked open, bleary, battered, but alert the moment she registered movement.
"Fin…?"
He turned his head toward her, dazed.
She sat up slowly, nearly sobbing with relief as her broken arm cradled her chest. Her sword lay beside her, soaked in ash and dust. She began crawling toward him on instinct, tears already welling.
"You're okay… You're back, gods..."
But her words choked off mid-sentence.
Because Fin wasn't fully free.
The shackles that had once suspended him mid-air had all but disintegrated—except one.
One thick loop of soulsteel remained coiled tightly around his left ankle, glowing faintly. And from that shackle, a long, winding tether of cursed metal and soul-thread extended across the ruined chamber floor, straight into what remained of the siphon.
If the siphon had once looked like a grand glass tank—ornate, symmetrical, polished like an arcane reactor, now it was something else entirely. Warped. Broken. Its outer shell had melted and fused with the stone, forming jagged angles like the roots of some dying tree. The violet glow had vanished, replaced by a deep, corrupted red that pulsed like a failing heartbeat.
It hummed. Low and slow. As if breathing.
Still alive.
Barely.
Fin sat up fully now, clutching his ribs. His eyes widened when he saw the shackle still binding him to the siphon.
"Oh… fuck me sideways."
The chamber was ruined. Entire walls were gone, reduced to rubble and ash. Pillars lay snapped in half. The ceiling gaped open to the moonless sky above, letting in long shafts of cold starlight.
And at the centre of it all, like a parasite that refused to die, the siphon clung to the earth like a tick on a dying beast.
Helga reached him now, dragging herself beside him and cradling his shoulders with her one good arm.
"It's not over," she said quietly. "Is it?"
Fin's jaw clenched.
"Nope."
He looked down at the tether.
Then at the core.
"…It never fucking is."
Fin shifted to face her fully, dragging his legs into a cross-legged sprawl. His ankle chain clinked against the stone, but for now, it didn't matter. His eyes, bleary and bruised, locked on hers, those tired storm-grey eyes that had always burned like steel when she was angry, and always softened when they turned to him.
"You okay, Mom?" he asked softly.
Helga blinked.
A beat passed. Then two.
And her eyes went wide.
"…Mom?"
A crooked grin tugged at the edge of Fin's mouth, like he was surprised, too. "Yeah. I, uh… guess that slipped out."
She stared at him like he'd said the sun tasted like sugar. Her lips trembled just slightly. Then she laughed, weak and wet with relief.
"You've never called me that," she said. "Not once. Always Helga. Or 'you old hag' when you were being cheeky."
He looked down. "Felt right this time."
Helga's throat bobbed as she tried to swallow the rising lump. Her eyes glistened.
"Well," she whispered, teasing through her tears, "Took you long enough, didn't it?"
Fin smiled again.
Not sarcastic.
Not defensive.
Just tired. And whole.
He reached out and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close into a proper hug, the kind of hug she'd given him a thousand times when he was small, cold, scared, and waking from nightmares. Now it was his turn. His arms encased her protectively, almost childishly, face buried in her shoulder.
Helga stiffened.
Just for a moment.
Then—
A sharp hiss escaped her.
Fin froze.
His body jerked back an inch, eyes narrowing as he looked down. That's when he saw it.
A sliver of twisted soulsteel.
Embedded deep in her right side, just below the ribs, hidden beneath her arm and the ruined leather vest. Dark red pooled beneath it, staining the golden plate she wore at her hip. Her breath hitched, just slightly, but she held firm.
Fin's heart dropped.
"…No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no—"
"I didn't want you to notice," Helga said quietly, still trying to smile. "I wanted one moment with my boy. Just one."
His eyes burned. "How long?"
"Since hugging you," she said. "I think it happened when I shielded you. Or maybe when Kael'ven threw me. Doesn't matter."
Fin trembled.
"You should've—!"
"I couldn't," she said. "You needed to come back. I wasn't going to ruin that. Not for anything."
He looked down at the metal again. His fingers shook.
She placed a hand over his.
"I'm done, Fin. But if I go… I want you to know, it wasn't your fault. Understand?"
He clenched his jaw, swallowing the scream threatening to tear out his throat.
Helga's weight began to lean heavier into his arms.
Her breath, once steady despite the wound, was growing shallow now, slower. Laboured.
"Hey," Fin said, panicked, shifting her slightly. "Hey, d-don't sleep, okay? You can't sleep. You're not allowed. You gotta stay with me."
She smiled.
Gods, even now, she smiled.
Her hand—shaky and blood-slicked—rose to rest against his cheek.
"You did it, Fin," she whispered. "You reminded me… how to live again."
"Stop it," he muttered, holding her tighter. "Don't say that. Just save your strength. We'll get you out. I can-maybe I can find something-"
"Shhh."
Her thumb brushed under his eye.
"You're such a good boy," she whispered.
Her voice was soft. So soft. Fin leaned closer just to hear it.
"Blow out the candles before bed," she said, smiling faintly. "Don't stay up too late. And don't drink too much milk before sleeping, you know how your stomach gets."
"Stop," he begged.
"And if you go outside, wear a scarf. Even if it's not cold. You'll look handsome."
He couldn't speak. Couldn't even breathe. His whole body shook as he cradled her, trying to keep her upright, trying to freeze time with his hands.
"And Fin?"
He looked into her eyes, wide with everything he couldn't say.
Helga's lips curved into one final smirk, teeth stained red.
"Never doubt yourself. Live, you hear me. Live."
A tiny laugh escaped her, brittle as frost.
And then her head tilted.
Her smile faded.
Her eyes closed.
And she was gone.
Fin didn't move.
Didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
For once, in this whole broken, cursed story—
He was silent.
Because what do you say… when your whole world dies in your arms?
He just held her.
Tighter than before.
As if maybe… he could stop her soul from leaving if he never let go.
He just sat there, cradling Helga's body in his arms, surrounded by the half-collapsed ruin of the chamber. The red light of the siphon bathed everything in a sickly glow, bleeding across his face, her hair, the jagged metal piercing her side.
There was no emotion in his eyes.
No anger. No sadness. Not even emptiness.
Just… nothing.
A quiet void, reflected back in lifeless gold.
His arms tightened slightly, as if to pull her deeper into the moment. As if he could keep her anchored to this world by sheer force of will.
Then, from the rubble, movement.
A hand.
Saelira dragged herself up from the shattered stone, her cloak in tatters but still… smiling.
"Ohhh… Fin," she cooed, breathless. "That was… intense. Gods. I thought we were both going to die."
No answer.
She noticed the still form in his arms and tilted her head.
"Oh…"
She paused, tilting her head slightly as her grin spread wider. "She's dead, isn't she?"
Still, nothing.
She stepped closer, her body perfectly fine, her voice as bright and bitter as ever.
"You should've just listened to us, Fin. If you had, she'd still be alive. You'd be stronger. Happier. Father would have rewarded you. Like he rewarded me."
She waited, watching for a reaction.
There wasn't one.
"I mean," she laughed, voice cracking slightly, "You do realise what's happening, right? You're stuck. Forever."
She gestured to the thick shackle still wrapped around Fin's left leg, the only one that hadn't been destroyed in the explosion.
It glowed faintly, tethered to the warped, twitching mass that used to be the siphon.
"You're tethered to him now," she said, tapping her temple. "Father's soul is inside that thing. That's the only reason we're alive. If you take off that shackle, the siphon will destabilise, collapse completely… and take you and him with it."
Her smile turned razor sharp.
"But if you don't… well, eventually we can bring him back. That ceiling? The foundation? It's all held together with spit and soul thread. You're trapped, Fin. Can't leave. Can't die. Kael'ven's final trap."
Still nothing.
She crouched a little closer.
"…So what'll it be?"
Silence.
Fin did not speak.
He didn't even look at her.
He moved carefully. His arms unwrapped slowly from Helga's corpse, and he lowered her onto the cracked stone floor as if she were glass. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
Then he stood.
No flourish. No theatrics.
He turned to face Saelira, and in the ruined flicker of the siphon's red glow, his eyes looked different. Not cold.
Empty.
Saelira tilted her head, the grin on her face twitching just slightly. "Finally standing, little brother?"
He didn't answer.
Something stirred inside him. Not a voice. Not a memory. A pressure—cold, calculating, hollow. The last ember of Kael'ven.
It pulsed once.
And Fin could feel it.
Soul magic.
Not the rituals. Not the glyphs. But the language of it. The structure. The shape of things beyond the veil of flesh and blood.
She's not alive, the ember whispered.
She's soul-stained. The same way the corrupted wolves were. The same way Kael'ven became. Flesh means nothing. Dismantle is useless. Physical strength is useless.
Unless…
Unless he could reach inward. Reach past the muscle, past the skin, and strike where it matters.
And for a brief moment—a single breath gifted by a monster—he could.
That ember of Kael'ven. A scar across the soul. It would not last. It would not remain. But now, while the tether still pulsed between him and the siphon, he could use it.
Not as Kael'ven.
As himself.
Fin's hand rose, slowly, and he looked down at it.
No glow.
No cursed energy.
Just bone, and skin, and death.
But he could feel the soul beneath it.
Fin stepped forward.
No sound echoed beneath his boots. The siphon behind him hissed, wheezed… suffered.
Saelira cocked her head, confused by his silence, her manic grin shrinking slightly.
"You look different," she murmured, voice low. "Did my brother finally grow up?"
Fin still said nothing.
Instead, he moved one hand behind his back and pulled the golden greatsword free from Helga's final resting place. Not to wield it. Not yet. Just to hold it, as if the weight of it anchored his breath.
Then finally, his voice cut the air, low, hollow, unwavering.
"You never understood what you are."
Saelira blinked. "I'm your sister."
"No," he replied. "You're nothing but a construct, your body's just a placeholder. A shell."
He took another step.
Saelira's expression twitched.
"You're not making sense."
He continued.
"I used to watch this anime. Jujutsu Kaisen. Doesn't matter if you know what that is."
She tilted her head. "What?"
"There was a cursed spirit named Mahito. He couldn't be killed by hitting his body. Only the soul. That's what you are. What is all of this is. Just soul-stained puppetry."
Her brows furrowed.
"What are you—"
Fin raised his arm slowly.
No words. No chants. No hand signs.
Just release.
Dismantle.
But this time, it was different.
It didn't manifest like it used to. It came as silence. A ripple in the air.
A twisted, bruised thing coiled deep within her flesh, stretched, contorted by years of blind devotion, warped love, and Kael'ven's influence. It fluttered now, confused. Afraid.
He didn't hesitate.
It aimed at its true target. At her soul
And it landed.
Saelira didn't even realise it.
Not until her head slipped from her shoulders with a sound like tearing silk.
Her eyes bulged, mouth opening in disbelief as the body beneath her crumpled like a doll with its strings cut.
The head hit the stone, rolling slightly. Bleeding. Soul-weeping.
"…Father…?"
She looked toward the siphon.
It said nothing.
No whisper. No presence.
Just red light, flickering and dying.
"…Father…"
Her voice broke.
Her eyes dimmed.
Fin sighed.
The last ember of Kael'ven's gift burned out in his chest.
And Saelira Morvayne, the lost daughter of a broken god, died staring at the lie that raised her.
...
[End of Chapter]