The battlefield was still.

Morning crept through the trees, shy and golden, washing the broken shrine in soft, forgiving light. The air smelled of burnt roots and wet soil. No more screams. No more thunder. Just the hush that followed catastrophe.

Dan stood in the centre of the clearing, sleeves rolled up, shirt half-torn, arms outstretched like he could carry the sky. His palms glowed gold. Not Hellfire. Not psychic force. Something older. Gentler. Like sunlight filtered through stained glass.

Kabe was first.

The great bear knelt, grumbling as Dan pressed a hand to his mangled shoulder. A beat of light. A pulse. Then the wound began to close – tendons stitching, bone threading itself whole, fur blooming like new moss. Kabe blinked. Snorted. Then flexed his restored arm with a low, surprised grunt.

"Holy shit," Alyssa muttered nearby. "He actually did it."

Max was next.

He barely stirred as Dan knelt beside him, brow furrowed in quiet concentration. Liz hovered close, watching, hands trembling despite herself. Her father's chest rose in shallow, broken intervals – ribs misshapen, his fire guttering behind his breath.

Dan whispered something. The gold light flared.

Max arched slightly, not in pain – in release. His breath steadied. The tension in his arms loosened. Bone shifted back into place. The cuts across his chest vanished like ink drawn into sand.

Liz exhaled, slow and shaking.

Then it was Alyssa, her shoulder socket popping audibly as the light reknit the joint. Chloe's bleeding gash on her face, gone in seconds. Hana's fingers, split from overcasting, smoothed beneath Dan's touch. Victor grunted as the cracked ribs in his side snapped back with a jolt. "Ow," he grunted. "Next time warn a guy."

And then – Dan turned to her.

Liz met his eyes.

She didn't speak. Didn't move.

He stepped forward, brow drawn, hands still glowing. His face was streaked with soot and blood. But his eyes – they were the same as she remembered. Tired, warm, stupidly brave.

"Hold still," he said, voice low.

She did.

His hand pressed gently to her chest – just over her heart.

The warmth that spread through her wasn't fire. It wasn't force. It was steady. Deep. A pressureless kind of presence that reminded her of how her mother used to tuck her in at night – quietly, lovingly, like protection you didn't have to earn.

The ache in her limbs faded. The bruises from battle, the raw tearing from the Devourer's possession – all of it eased.

But more than that… something deeper broke loose.

The kind of pain no light could reach.

Until now.

Liz's breath hitched.

Dan didn't say anything. Just held her. A little longer than needed.

And then he pulled her into a hug.

It wasn't graceful. His arms wrapped around her too tight. His hand was shaking on her back.

"Fifteen years," Dan whispered, voice raw. "You were just a kid. I thought I lost you."

Liz's smile flickered – not with joy, but with something older. Worn at the edges.

"I was only gone a year and a half," she said softly. "That's what the doctors said, right? Eighteen months in a coma."

Dan nodded, confused.

"But it wasn't eighteen months for me," she said. Her voice caught for a second. Then steadied. "In there... in the mindscape... it was fifteen years."

Dan froze.

"I grew up inside my own head," Liz continued. "Alone. Fighting the Devourer. Dying over and over. Watching it wear my face.'

His mouth opened, then closed. Words failed.

She placed a hand over his, grounding him.

"I know it doesn't make sense. I know it's hard to hear. But for me… this isn't just some miraculous awakening." Her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with memory. "It's a return from a war no one saw. And you were there, Dan. You were part of what got me through."

Dan pulled her close again. Fiercely this time.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I didn't know. I didn't… I should've been there."

"You were," Liz said quietly. "Every time you refused to give up. Every time you sat beside me. Every time you fought to keep Dad going. I felt that. I remember it."

His breath hitched. "You're not a kid anymore."

"No," Liz whispered. "But I'm still your Liz."

And this time, Dan let himself cry.

They stood like that a moment longer – uncle and niece, but really something else. Closer. More jagged and real. Like a brother and sister who'd survived different ends of the same apocalypse.

Dan finally wiped his face and laughed once – a broken, tired sound.

"Don't tell anyone I cried."

Liz smiled. "Too late."

He ruffled her hair, and she didn't swat him away.

Not this time.

…………………

Later that morning, the shrine steps were half-shaded by smoke-softened sunlight. The worst of the blood had been scrubbed from the stones. Broken blades lay stacked beside the prayer altar, and the last yokai corpses had been dragged into the treeline for burning.

The group lingered. No one was ready to leave.

Liz sat on the low edge of the shrine wall, letting the sun warm her face. Her legs dangled over cracked stone, her boots swinging gently above the scorched dirt. The weight of her new power still hummed in her chest, but the silence was louder now. Not threatening. Not heavy.

Just… still.

Then the ground trembled.

A shadow loomed behind her.

Liz barely had time to turn before two massive arms closed around her and lifted her clean off the wall.

"LIIIIIIIIIIZ!"

Her ribs creaked. She let out a strangled wheeze. "Victor—!"

"I thought you were dead," he rumbled, crushing her against his chest. "Or possessed. Or worse. Don't care. You're back. Deal with it."

She flailed, laughing and choking at the same time. "Air, you bastard—!"

Victor set her down, grinning like an idiot. His coat was torn across the back, and one of his bracers was cracked, but his eyes were shining. The tension in his shoulders had vanished. He looked ten years younger.

Liz wiped soot from her face and gave him a shove. "You're a menace."

Victor folded his arms. "A grateful menace."

Then, without warning, his shoulders hunched. His back cracked. Hair rippled up his forearms. His irises flared molten gold.

In less than a heartbeat, Victor shifted – not fully, but enough. His jaw stretched slightly. His muscles thickened, like a beast trying to break free just beneath the skin.

Liz stared. "You're a beast now?"

Victor rolled his neck with a meaty pop. "Got that little present from your dad."

Her jaw dropped. "So you're like, what – part-wolf now?"

"Wolf? Excuse me." He raised a clawed finger. "Lion! Or chimera. Or whatever. This is top-tier apex predator bullshit. No fleas. No tail. Just pure muscle and intimidation."

"Smells like wet dog," Alyssa called from across the field without looking up.

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Victor growled in her direction. "Smells like victory, you gremlin."

Liz couldn't stop laughing. "You flexed so hard I thought your shirt was gonna explode."

Victor struck a ridiculous pose, one arm raised, one leg perched on a broken stone.

"Behold, the glory of my final form."

"Final form? You sound like a twelve-year-old anime villain."

He winked. "Gotta keep up with the freak squad. Psychic fire-goddess. Teleporting ninja. Actual bear. And I'm the only one who still bleeds when punched."

"Now you just bleed sexily," Chloe muttered, passing by.

Victor cupped his hand to his ear. "Was that a compliment, demon-slayer?"

"Delusion," she said, not even slowing down.

Liz leaned against him, eyes warm. "You really didn't give up on me, did you?"

Victor's grin softened. He bumped his shoulder gently against hers. "Not once. Figured if anyone was stubborn enough to claw her way back from Hell, it'd be you."

She looked down at her hands – steady now, red light faint around her fingers.

"I wasn't sure I could."

"You did." His voice was low now. "You did, kid. And I'm damn proud of you."

She hugged him again. This time, he didn't squeeze the life out of her.

Just held on.

Like he meant it.

…………………

The sun had risen higher now, casting golden fingers through the gaps in the trees. Somewhere deeper in the forest, birds had begun to sing again. The war felt distant. Like a nightmare they'd finally woken from.

By the stream, away from the shrine and the smell of blood, Liz sat barefoot with her feet in the water. The cold ran sharp over her skin – real, grounding. She watched it flow around the stones, watched the ripples split and rejoin, and tried to remember how to breathe without bracing for pain.

Alyssa plopped down beside her with a grunt, one hand still clutching a cracked canteen. She looked like hell – clothes torn, her braid half-undone, knuckles scabbed and swollen. But her eyes were clear. Focused. Present.

Chloe followed a moment later, quieter. She didn't say anything, just sat on Liz's other side, knees pulled up to her chest. Her blade lay sheathed in the grass behind her, stained with yokai blood. Her fingers toyed with the hilt like she wasn't quite ready to let go.

For a while, they didn't speak.

The wind rustled through the leaves. Water gurgled gently between their boots.

Then Liz said, without looking up, "I know about Jack."

Alyssa stiffened. Chloe's fingers froze on her sword.

"The Devourer showed me," Liz continued. "Or tried to. Over and over. It used his voice. Made me watch it happen in a hundred ways. Different deaths. Different screams."

Chloe's breath hitched. Alyssa muttered something under hers – a curse, maybe – and kicked a stone into the stream. It sank with a dull splash.

"I didn't know what was real," Liz whispered. "I kept hoping it was a lie. That he was still here. That I'd wake up and he'd be on the other side of the glass like always."

She paused. Her hands clenched in her lap.

"But he's gone. Isn't he?"

Neither girl answered at first.

Then Chloe, softly: "Yeah. He's gone."

Alyssa's voice was rough. "We tried to save him. We all did. But it wasn't enough."

Liz turned to them. "You fought for him. Just like you fought for me. I saw that too."

Chloe shook her head. "You don't have to thank us."

"I do." Liz's voice cracked, but she held it. "You were always there. Even when I couldn't reach you. Even when I was trapped in the dark. You were the light I was clawing toward."

Alyssa wiped her face with the back of her glove, blinking too fast. "You make it sound like we did something heroic."

"You did." Liz looked at them both. "You never gave up. Not on Jack. Not on me. Not even when it broke you."

Her voice trembled. "You're not just my friends. You're my sisters. I owe you everything."

Chloe leaned into her first. No words. Just the soft press of her forehead against Liz's shoulder.

Alyssa grunted and scooted closer. "Damn it, I wasn't gonna cry."

"Too late," Liz said, her own tears slipping now. "We're all crying."

They laughed – quiet, wet, tired.

And then they wrapped their arms around each other. Three girls who had bled and broken and survived. No ceremony. No battlefield glory.

Just grief shared.

Love remembered.

And something harder to name— The bond that only forms when you've stood at the edge of the world together, and come back still holding hands.

Alyssa muttered into Liz's ear: "You ever vanish again, I'm dragging you back from Hell myself."

Chloe added, "With backup this time."

Liz squeezed them both. "Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed it.

…………………

The shrine roof still held, even with half its beams scorched and cracked. From up here, you could see the whole battlefield – broken trees, shattered stones, discarded weapons. Blood soaked into the earth in long, dark streaks. But the mist had lifted. The air was clear. Survivable.

Liz sat cross-legged on the roof, back straight, face turned toward the rising sun. Her halo had dimmed to a soft, red flicker now – barely more than a glow around her shoulders. She could hear the others below, patching wounds, telling half-jokes, scavenging rations.

But up here, it was quiet.

The wood creaked.

She didn't turn. "You don't move like the others."

Ying sat beside her without a word. No greeting. No explanation. Just her presence – cool, calm, as precise as ever.

They sat in silence for a while.

Then Liz said, "Thank you."

Ying's gaze stayed on the horizon. "For what?"

"For saving my dad. And for saving all of them in Chengdu. Without you, none of them would've made it. Including me."

Ying shook her head once. "I didn't do it alone."

"I know," Liz said. "But you were there. At every turning point."

Another pause.

Ying glanced at her sideways. "How did you know what happened in Chengdu?"

Liz's smile was faint. "Because I saw it."

Ying's brow furrowed.

"I wasn't unconscious in there," Liz said, voice low. "Not exactly. I was trapped, but I could feel things. Sometimes see them. Not clearly – just fragments. Sounds. Emotions. Pain."

Ying said nothing.

"There were days when I could hear my dad screaming. Nights when I felt Chloe crying. I saw Jack die, over and over. I felt your sword strike the demon's neck in that alley near the market. I saw the flames in Chengdu. And I tried – God, I tried – to scream back. To warn you. To tell you I was still here."

Her voice broke. "But most of the time, I couldn't get through. I was just… watching. Drowning."

Ying looked down at her hands, fingers folding carefully in her lap.

"I think I heard you once," she said. "A whisper. Right after the sky turned red. It was just a breath. My name. I thought I imagined it."

"You didn't," Liz said. "That was me."

Ying exhaled slowly, like something heavy had just been set down inside her chest.

They let the silence settle again. This time, it wasn't hollow. It felt shared.

Ying finally spoke. "You're not just strong."

Liz glanced at her, curious.

Ying's voice stayed calm, but the words were heavier than usual. "You endured. You were alone for fifteen years and you came back with your mind intact. That's rarer than power."

Liz's throat tightened.

She meant it. Ying – who rarely praised, who measured every word – meant it.

"So does this mean you'll stop pretending not to like me?" Liz asked, smiling through the emotion.

Ying didn't look at her. "Don't push it."

They sat side by side as the light rose higher. Two girls, two warriors, two survivors – finally seeing each other without the veil of distance or doubt.

For once, neither had to say another word.

…………………

The sun had dipped low again, a golden bruise sinking behind the treeline. Smoke from the pyres drifted lazily upward. The shrine was quiet now – no battle, no shouting. Just the occasional clink of armour, a murmured voice, the hush of survivors exhaling for the first time in days.

Max sat by the fire, wrapped in a patched coat someone had thrown over his shoulders. His Hellfire had gone quiet. Not gone – but low, flickering dimly like coals buried in ash. His breathing was steady now, but shallow. The kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix.

Liz approached without a sound. She sat beside him. Not close, not touching. Just there.

Max stared into the flames, eyes hollow.

"I don't know how to look at you," he said, voice rough. "You were sixteen when I last saw you. And now you're…"

He didn't finish.

Liz pulled her knees up, resting her chin on them. "I know."

Another silence.

"I failed you," Max said, not looking at her. "I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't reach you. Couldn't save you."

She didn't speak.

"I tried everything," he went on. His voice started to shake. "I made the contract. I burned down half of Hell. I begged demons. Fought gods. Every time I thought I was close, something ripped you away again."

His hands clenched. "And the worst part? I started to think you were already gone."

Liz closed her eyes.

"I thought I was going insane," Max whispered. "I'd sit by your bedside and talk to you like you could hear me. Like maybe, somehow, my voice would get through. But nothing ever changed. And I just… I broke. I stopped hoping."

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were calm, but wet.

"You did get through," she said.

Max turned toward her. "What?"

Liz's voice was quiet. Steady. "Your voice. Every night. Every time you came to the hospital. Every time you held my hand or whispered that you loved me – I heard it."

She swallowed. "Not always. Not clearly. But enough. Enough to hold on."

His face crumpled. "No. No, I— You don't understand. I left you. I stopped coming. I was afraid to see you like that. Afraid that you wouldn't come back. I gave up, Liz."

She reached across the space between them and took his hand. "And I don't blame you."

Max's lips parted. The fire reflected in his eyes now, wild and broken.

"I saw everything," she said, gently. "What you did. Who you fought. What you became. I know how hard it was. I saw you screaming in the ruins. I saw you kneel by my bed with blood on your hands. I saw you almost die, over and over, just trying to keep your promise."

Her hand tightened around his. "You didn't fail me. You saved me."

Max broke.

Not all at once. Not loudly. Just… broke.

His shoulders folded inward. His breath hitched. A sound cracked in his throat – dry, helpless, half-sob. His body trembled like it was too tired to carry the weight anymore.

Liz pulled him into her arms.

He didn't resist. Didn't speak. Just buried his face into her shoulder, shoulders shaking, fists weakly gripping the back of her coat. Like he was afraid she might vanish again if he let go.

"I missed so much," he choked. "Your birthday. Your voice. Everything."

"I missed you too," Liz whispered.

They held each other like that in the dying light.

Max's chest rose and fell against her ribs. Not fast. Not panicked.

Just human.

"I don't deserve this," he whispered. "Not after what I've done. Not after what I let happen."

"You do," Liz said. "You always did. You're not perfect, Dad. But you never stopped loving me. And that's what saved me. That's what brought me home."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how to fix this."

"You don't have to," she said. "We'll carry it together now. All of it."

Max didn't answer right away.

His eyes dropped to their joined hands. Calloused fingers, soot-smudged skin. The way her thumb moved over his knuckles – slow, steady, grounding.

Then he spoke.

His voice was lower now. Hoarse. Like it hurt to let the words out.

"I wasn't there for you."

Liz blinked, confused.

He shook his head, eyes shining. "Not just after the coma. I mean before. After your mum died. After April… after the fire."

He swallowed, jaw tightening.

"I should've been stronger. For you. I should've stayed present. Open. But I wasn't. I was broken. I was angry at the world. At myself. I kept trying to save people, and I couldn't even save the one who mattered most."

His voice cracked.

"I buried myself in guilt and grief. And when you needed a dad – when you needed me – I was a ghost in the same house."

Liz's mouth trembled.

"I thought I was protecting you by staying quiet. By keeping the pain inside. But all I did was leave you alone. I saw you hurting. I saw you struggling. And I still couldn't reach out." His breath hitched. "I've regretted that every second since."

He looked at her then. Really looked.

"I love you, Liz. With everything I am. I should've said it more. I should've shouted it. But it's always been true. Even when I didn't know how to show it."

Liz pressed her forehead to his.

"I know," she whispered. "And I love you too."

Her arms wrapped around him again, this time slower. Stronger. And Max— Max finally let himself fall into it.

No walls. No shame.

Just love, spoken and returned.

Max pulled back slightly, just far enough to see her face. Her hair was longer now. Her eyes a little older. Her voice steadier. But it was her. It was Liz.

"God," he said, voice breaking again. "Look at you. You're incredible."

"I had good teachers," she said. "And a really, really stubborn dad."

He gave a sound between a sob and a laugh.

She kissed his temple.

"You came back to me," he whispered again, like it was still sinking in.

"So did you."

They sat beside the fire for a long time after that, not speaking. Just breathing. The flames crackled. Somewhere beyond the trees, something shifted. A wind with no name curled through the clearing.

The storm was still coming.

But for this moment— they were together.

And nothing in heaven or hell could take that away.

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