As the storm raged on, as motes of light gently drifted down the desolate scene only brought more grief as eyes laid themselves upon Kratos. Once a loving husband, father turned into a weapon on the whim of Gods who used others as mere pawns. But that time was over, it was now time, for the world to live anew, independent and free. The slim hand held itself out, palm towards the sky as a mote slowly set itself down, but was not absorbed. Instead it sat there, a slow steady pulse of light, soon held in a closed fist.

It was hard to tell the actual features of the woman that knelt beside Kratos. Long flowing dark hair, clothing more akin to shadows than any fabric known to man, the cowl hiding her features, in part. Not fully though, there was enough to see that whomever this woman was, she was incredibly beautiful. Fingertips touched the scarred, bloody cheek while the other hand opened, moving palm down to rest over the gaping wound that had ended this warriors life.

"Your vengeance has ended yes, Ghost of Sparta, but not your life." The sounds that came from under her hand would have made anyone wretch. Bones breaking, coming back together, clean. Muscles knitting back together. Organs reforming, blood rushing through repaired vessels, nerves firing in vengeance, relaying nothing more than the pain was almost more than he could take, arched up into a near perfect arch as breath and life was restored once more.

Amber eyes snapped open, instinct alone making Kratos take hold of, but not hurt the hand that now rested on his stomach. Scarred, yes, but otherwise healed. "...How am I..?" He rasped out, thankful for the rain that fell, pelting his face, wetting his dry mouth. "Who...are...you..."

But no answer, was as yet forthcoming as the pain of his wound, being brought back to life was just too much, finding himself slipping into the oblivion of unconsciousness. But even as his sight faded into darkness, he heard words that made his heart clench with fear, for the first time since he'd faced death at the hands of the Barbarian so long ago. "You know me as Nyx."

Even as he watched the woman shift into a massive raven, bigger than any beast he had ever seen in his life nothing could stop the lethargy, dragging him down, down. "Sleep. Rest in the arms of the Dark Mother." A rush of wings, he felt himself being held in a careful grip. Up, up and in to the air, the wind rushing over his skin, until there was nothing more.

Not a sound was made except the powerful beat of massive wings. Heading North, far towards into another land, to give Kratos the life that was long denied him. A fitting payment for the God of War, having killed Zeus, the Lord of Olympus. Known as the True Oracle, the prophesy she had given so long ago to Zeus had finally come to pass. That vengeance would be achieved not by her hand, but by that of his own son. Fitting justice for the God who had only gained his powers, by killing the Primordial God Phanes, her father and stealing them.