The earth groaned.
The final day had arrived.
Around the forest's edge, saints, crusaders, and holy knights knelt in formation. Relics thrummed. Crosses burned with sacred power. Prayers in dozens of dialects merged into a single hum—a sacred wall of words pressed into flesh and faith.
At the center of it all, standing atop a stone, Cyril lifted his staff and whispered a final invocation.
A sudden burst of light erupted from his body, condensed light and flames shoot up from the tip of the staff's sacred crystal. The barrier ignited.
The Sanctum Lux Custodia was born.
It spread outward like fire made of glass and sun, coating the cursed forest in a dome of shimmering gold and silver. The sky—evernight for what seemed like eternity—split open. For the first time in countless days, the heavens blushed with pale blue.
A wind surged.
Inside the forest, the chosen divided.
"Shchek!" Methodius called. "With me!"
The axeman gave a nod, falling in beside the priest.
"Everyone else—go! To the main body!"
Lybid, Kyi, Maksym, Yurko and Khoryv sprinted forward into the darkness ahead.
Near the bank of the blackened river, Methodius dropped to his knees and unhooked the golden cross from his neck. Inside it, the blood of 'His' Son shimmered.
He placed it upon the stones in the water.
"Keep me safe," he said to Shchek.
The axeman cracked his knuckles.
Methodius began the ritual.
"Our Father, who art in heaven hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from Evil."
The river recoiled—then burned, swallowing the golden cross.
"Amen."
Holy flame surged across the water, turning black into white, ash into steam. Trees cracked. Rocks lifted.
The earthquake that followed dropped birds from the sky and split stone like parchment.
Deeper in the forest, at the very heart, the group reached Mara's resting place.
Her body pulsed. Her roots writhed.
"Now!" Lybid shouted.
She raised the Staff of Verdance, its head glowing green and gold.
Around her, roots bloomed with markings. She whispered a prayer—not in her own tongue, but in one long buried.
"Да буде воля твоя, Роде… Очисти, защити, поверни…"( Thy will be done, Rod... Purify, protect, return...
The wind howled. Trees screamed.
In front of her eyes a scene of her ancestors mouthing one single word appeared. "We are proud."
And with a roar of power, she drove the staff into Mara's chest.
The seal cracked.
The light exploded.
And the Goddess of Death stirred.