Elyndra stood before the black marble door. She came here every year, on the same day — the anniversary of the quest. The Guardians of the Serpent kept watch at all times. The seals glowed faintly. Intact. Unbroken.

— He is still there, Aelith murmured. Rastacan. Shabakan. Together. Forever.

Elyndra nodded.

— Sometimes, at night, I hear whispers. As if something were trying to speak through the door.

— What does it say?

Elyndra shivered.

— “I am still fighting.” That is all. Just those words.

— For how long? she whispered. Ten years? A hundred years? A thousand? One day, he will weaken. And on that day…

She left the sentence hanging.

In the ruins of Rastacan's palace, something pulsed faintly. A black gem, fallen during the separation, buried beneath the rubble. No one had found it. No one knew it existed.

But someone was looking for it.

A hooded figure stood in the shadows, watching the gem. Its eyes glowed with a familiar red light.

— Soon, the figure murmured. Soon, I shall return.

The gem pulsed in answer.

And in the infernal dimension, behind the black marble door, Rastacan opened his red eyes.

— I am still fighting, he whispered.

But his voice was different. Weaker. More tired. And Shabakan, coiled around him, was smiling.

Fate did not wait for the consent of men. It moved forward, inexorable. And it always demanded a price.