The clash echoed through the skies like the roar of a vengeful god.
Steven spun through the air, narrowly dodging a swipe from the Second Harbinger's blade—an obsidian weapon wreathed in shadows that bent reality wherever it swung. Sparks flew as Steven's magic collided with the beast's aura, creating fissures of light and darkness that stitched across the clouds.
Below, Master Aravon chanted under his breath. Glyphs of ancient origin flared around him, weaving a seal into the earth that pulsed in rhythm with the Codex. He was buying Steven time—but not much.
"Aravon!" Steven shouted mid-air, his chest heaving. "I can't hold it off forever!"
"You're not meant to!" Aravon shouted back. "You're meant to awaken it!"
Steven's eyes darted toward the glowing mark on his arm—the Sigil of the Codex, burning brighter than ever.
The Harbinger shrieked and hurled a torrent of black fire. Steven raised a barrier, but it cracked on impact, the force driving him down into the earth.
He hit the ground hard.
Pain exploded in his ribs.
Above him, the beast descended, sword raised.
Move, Steven. MOVE!
The Codex pulsed.
You have power within you. Power meant to change fate.
Steven grit his teeth, reached deep—and felt it.
Something ancient.
Buried.
Burning.
The air warped. Magic flared violently around him. Time seemed to freeze.
He stood.
And in his hand—his staff transformed. The runes shifted, turned molten, and reshaped the weapon into something fierce and divine: a double-bladed spear of starlight and flame.
Aravon gasped. "The Flame of Aravon… I thought it lost."
Steven didn't speak. He leapt.
The spear blazed in his hands, a comet of light hurtling toward the Harbinger. The creature roared, slashing to meet him—but this time, Steven was faster. Stronger.
The spear pierced through shadow and obsidian, searing into the creature's chest. Light exploded outward, ripping the clouds apart.
The Harbinger let out one last scream—then burst into a thousand shards of shadow.
Silence fell.
Steven landed, spear in hand, breath ragged.
Aravon approached slowly, awe in his eyes.
"You wield the Flame," he whispered. "You are truly chosen by the Codex."
Steven looked down at the weapon—now pulsing calmly in his grip.
"I don't know what I am anymore," he said. "But I know this—"
He turned to the horizon, where storm clouds still brewed.
"—I'm not running."
---
To be continued