Happy New Year 2025!

We hope you've had a wonderful holiday season and that the new year is treating you well! We want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for your amazing support. Every read, favorite, follow, and review means the world to us and keeps us motivated to continue sharing this story.

As we step into 2025, we're excited to bring you a brand-new chapter, crafted with all our dedication and love for this tale. We wish you a year filled with joy, success, and plenty of time to dive into your favorite fandoms!

With all our gratitude and warmest wishes,

Didymus & Deethra (Dawnborn)

So… this was Earth?

Aisling stared at a point straight ahead of her, trying to control her breathing, not to think about what was around her. Everything felt so unreal. The silence around them was far more oppressive than the chaos she had imagined.

After the decision to return to Earth was made, everything had fallen into place with dizzying speed. The camp had quickly become agitated. The announcement spread among the survivors, and soon, most of the warriors had asked to escort the seed and its bearer, hoping to play a role in what seemed to be humanity's last chance. But Death had refused, categoric and unyielding, and no one dared contradict his judgment.

Instead, the survivors had busied themselves preparing Aisling, Fenja, and Idris for this uncertain mission. In just a few hours, they had received new weapons and armor. Fury had raised an eyebrow when she saw Aisling equipped with only two small daggers, one at each side of her belt.

"Is that all you're carrying? Don't you have anything... bigger?" she had asked her, almost incredulously.

Aisling hadn't known how to respond, offering an awkward smile. Later, Strife, amused, had slipped a comment to Aisling, laughing.

"For us, your weapon is more like... a letter opener. Or a demon's toothpick."

Despite her reluctance, she had also been outfitted with the largest supply of balms, medicinal herbs, threads, and ointments that the surviving healers could offer. They had gathered to give her everything they had, convinced that she would need it far more than they would. Aisling had protested, afraid of stripping them of their supplies, but the healers had assured her they were giving wholeheartedly. They all knew the journey would be dangerous.

Some humans had gathered enough courage to offer gifts to the Horsemen themselves, gestures of respect and gratitude. Food, talismans, clothing... each offering like a silent prayer.

"Keep this up, and I warn you, I'll stay here," Strife, all too pleased with the attention, had joked loudly.

His words had triggered a few nervous laughs, though the atmosphere remained heavy. Fury, however, had accepted the offerings with seriousness, nodding in acknowledgment. War, on the other hand, seemed lost, awkward in the face of these human gestures. Yet, he seemed to understand the symbolic significance of these gifts, even if he wasn't skilled at expressing it.

As for Death, he said nothing, showed nothing, impassive. But Aisling could have sworn that at one point, she had seen a flicker of something resembling recognition pass through his burning eyes.

Saying goodbye to Ren had been the hardest. Since the visit of the Horsemen to Nimrach and everything that followed, they had come to realize the immense secrets they were hiding from each other, which had, inevitably, driven them apart. In these last days, they had never known what to say to each other, as if they had forgotten how to speak. The excuse of exhaustion had been a relief, but standing before each other at the moment of parting, Aisling had found a million things she wanted to say and not enough time.

She had hugged the old man, tears in her eyes.

"Forgive me..."

That was all she had managed to whisper, her voice breaking with sobs. He had gently taken her face, lowering it toward him to kiss her forehead. With a single glance, everything was as it had been before. It was the magic that love could create.

"You are the best thing that has happened to mankind. And the best thing that has happened to me."

"I'll come back, Ren... I promise. I'm not ready to become a Guardian yet, you know? You still have stories to tell me. I'll come back to listen to them."

The old man simply smiled, holding her as tightly as he could for as long as possible before the moment came. Without knowing why, the last thing her eyes caught before going through the gate was Jenna and her baby. The soulless child, the last one Aisling had delivered on Nimrach it seems so long ago now, had survived against all odds thanks to the good care of his young mother, who refused to let him go. The young healer had to succeed. For them. Maybe she had a chance to give him a world... and a soul.

Fury had reactivated the dormant Reflecting Pool, this time to open the portal to Earth, and the last words were exchanged hastily, each aware that the longest goodbyes were also the most painful. Aisling had promised herself once more that they would return. They had to.

The landscape waiting for them on the other side of the portal appeared far stranger and more suffocating than anything they had imagined. Instead of the vast devastated lands they had envisioned, they emerged into a narrow cave, made of rubble and ruins, as if the Reflecting Pool had been buried under debris for decades. Broken concrete slabs and shattered stones surrounded the space, giving the impression that something gigantic had collapsed here.

The Four Horsemen stood in the dim light, slightly hunched, struggling to find a comfortable position in the cramped space. Debris lay scattered here and there, as if they had likely had to dig to reach the portal, opening just enough space for the group to pass through. Dust swirled around them, floating in the heavy, still air.

Upon their arrival, Death stepped forward, eyeing the three humans with his piercing gaze, a cold gleam in the semi-darkness. With a quick motion, he pointed his finger at them, his clawed-glove adding a menacing weight to his words.

"You stay here. No noise, no movement."

"How long?" Aisling, despite the heavy tension hanging in the air, dared to ask.

"As long as it takes." Death slowly turned his head toward her, his eyes narrowing with a cold gleam.

His words rang like an irrevocable sentence.

"Stand at the entrance," he then turned to Strife. "Watch the surroundings. And if you see one of these three outside... shoot."

Strife let out a small amused laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Seeing the concern appear on the faces of the three humans, he casually blew out.

"Don't worry, I'll aim for the head."

The Four Horsemen wasted no more time and slipped away, leaving Aisling, Fenja, and Idris alone in the cave. They sealed the entrance behind them with a huge piece of debris, cutting off all contact with the outside. The place closed around them like a prison.

Since that moment, the three humans had been waiting in silence, only illuminated by the pale, flickering glow of the Reflecting Pool. The air remained heavy, saturated with dust and heat. Their breaths, distant and rhythmic echoes, resonated through the small cave, raising the temperature even further.

They exchanged silent glances, each lost in their own thoughts, while the heat, oppressive and stifling, made the wait even more unbearable.

Idris, without a word, lowered himself into a crouching position. With a slow, almost mechanical movement, he began scratching the ground with his fingertips, clearing a thin layer of gray dust until he reached a more compact, brownish earth scattered with small stones. His fingers sank slightly into the material, and he picked up a small handful, lifting it to his eyes. His gaze darkened for a moment, then a small, subtle smile stretched across his lips.

"It's Earth," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. "We're really here."

Fenja, sitting a little farther away, raised an eyebrow, watching him with her usual look, where it was hard to tell whether she was serious or mocking.

"You want us to leave you alone with your little handful of dust?" she asked in a feigned indifferent tone. "We wouldn't want to interrupt such a... intimate moment."

Aisling, sitting not far away, gave a small amused smile, her laugh barely escaping before immediately transforming into a grimace of pain. She placed her hand over her chest, her breath catching for a moment, but she managed to regain her composure, trying not to show the extent of her suffering. Fenja watched her friend with a worried expression, unable to contain her concern. She finally broke the silence.

"Is it very painful?"

"Only when I force my breathing too much..." Aisling inhaled gently, the pain showing in the shadows of her eyes. "But the rest of the time, I manage to forget about it."

Idris let the earth slip through his fingers and stood up carefully.

"We'll find a solution," he said, his voice full of determination. "If we plant this seed quickly, it won't have drained too much energy from you, and you'll be fine. I promise. We won't let you down."

A smile briefly crossed Aisling's face, touched by her friend's confidence.

"Thank you, all of you, for being here," she murmured, full of gratitude. "I don't know what will happen, but I'm glad you came."

Her ring sparkled for a moment, as though Nimue had winking at her. The Horsemen had insisted that only the three of them come to Earth, so the little specter remained hidden. After what she'd witnessed of the interactions between the Four and the Watchers, it was probably for the best.

Suddenly, a crack echoed, breaking the heavy silence of the cave. The rubble blocking the entrance was slowly pushed aside, sending dust and chunks of stone tumbling to the floor. Fury appeared, her head passing through the narrow opening. Her piercing eyes fixed on them for a moment before she signaled them to move forward with a swift motion of her hand.

"Come on, it's time."

Without a word, Aisling, Fenja, and Idris crawled out, their elbows scraping against the rocks and dust as they squeezed through the narrow passage. The air, once stagnant in the cave, was replaced by a scorching gust that hit their faces as soon as they crossed the opening. A dry, almost suffocating heat spread across their skin, carrying with it a scent of ash and rusted metal. The daylight blinded them for a moment as they finally emerged into the world that had once been theirs.

Before them, a desolate landscape stretched as far as the eye could see. Earth. Or what was left of it.

The ruins of gutted human structures stood like the carcasses of giant animals, their steel frames twisted and blackened by fire. Whole sections of buildings lay on the ground, turned into heaps of rubble and shattered concrete, swallowed by the wild vegetation that had taken over in some areas. Where once there had been bustling streets, boulevards teeming with life, there were now only collapsed, cracked roads, devoured by the roots of dead trees and thorny bushes. Abandoned and crushed vehicles, partially buried under dust, littered the ground, their rusted bodies decomposed by time.

Entire buildings had been reduced to ashes, their metal and concrete skeletons jutting into the gray sky like the fangs of a defeated predator. Huge craters pockmarked the ground in places, witnesses to the titanic battles that had ravaged this planet. In the distance, the imposing silhouette of a collapsed suspension bridge stretched above a blackened river, its torn cables fluttering weakly in the wind.

The silence that reigned here was heavy, oppressive. Not a bird's chirp, not the wind singing through the leaves. Only the occasional crack of debris and the whistling of the wind through the ruins.

Aisling stood, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide at the sight of this world— not just the destruction, but the total absence of life, as if everything that had once made this planet's heart beat had been torn away. Fenja clenched her jaw, her eyes scanning the desolate landscape with a hint of restrained sadness. Idris, meanwhile, remained motionless, hands on his hips, contemplating the ruins with a new gravity in his gaze.

"Is this… our world?" Aisling murmured, her voice muffled by the tightness in her throat. "Everything is… dead."

Strife, standing a little further away, opened his arms as if to embrace the scene, casting them a sideways glance, visibly bitter as well.

"Welcome home…"

As Aisling, Fenja, and Idris silently surveyed the barren land, the imposing figure of War appeared on the horizon, closely followed by Death. The two Horsemen approached, their metal armor faintly shimmering under the pale light breaking through the clouds.

War stopped next to Fury, his face impassive as usual, and gave a brief glance toward the young humans before making his report.

"Strong demonic activity scattered everywhere," he announced, his voice deep and resonant. "They're moving in small groups, probably searching for something."

"Like always," grumbled Death, his tone sharp. He gestured for the others to move forward. "We need to move."

"It's... rather calm, for a celestial battlefield, isn't it?" Idris remarked, inspecting the surroundings. "I imagined the Apocalypse differently. More fighting, maybe?"

"Some things have… happened. But it's better not to be around when Heaven and Hell decide to resume the fights."

Aisling carefully descended a pile of rubble, her feet sliding slightly on the unstable surface. Her breath was shallow, and she held her chest without paying attention to it.

"We can't plant anything here," she remarked, eyes fixed on the barren earth beneath her feet.

Strife, who had gotten a little ahead, turned around and shrugged.

"Unfortunately, I doubt there's a place on this planet where anything could grow. And even if there were… we wouldn't know how to handle it."

Idris, worried, furrowed his brow upon hearing that.

"Wait, you're saying that… you don't know what to do with the seed?"

Death stared at him, his eyes burning with cynicism.

"Do we look like gardeners to you, kid?"

"I might know someone who could help us," War raised a hand to get their attention. "Someone who knows about world creation… if he's still alive."

"Then we don't have time to waste," Death nodded slowly, accepting the suggestion.

He raised his hand in front of him, a spark of power coursing through the air, and his siblings did the same. The three young humans watched, puzzled, as the atmosphere suddenly shifted, the air becoming charged. They heard them before they saw them. The sound of hooves, muffled whinnies echoed around them. Suddenly, four horses emerged from the ground like specters.

War's horse was the first to appear. A massive stallion, covered in blazing flames, its hooves struck the ground with such force that it left trails of fire behind. Its eyes glowed with a reddish hue, and its mane, like its tail, seemed to be made of shifting flames, burning with unbearable intensity.

Then came Death's mount, seeming to emerge from the very shadows. Its skeletal, emaciated body was draped in tatters of pale, faded skin, as if it already belonged to another world. Its eyes were empty sockets from which a spectral light oozed. Its hooves, seemingly made of bone, struck the ground with a dry, ominous sound, and with every step, tendrils of pale green smoke escaped from its nostrils and mouth.

Strife's mount was a massive horse, armored in silver with purple cloth draped over it. It was hard to tell what the creature looked like beneath the armor, as it covered it completely. Even its hooves seemed adorned with threatening metal spikes.

Finally, Fury's mount appeared. Unlike the others, it bore horrifying scars, as if its body had been torn apart and then reassembled. Its massive form pulsed with a bluish, almost electric energy, and its eyes blazed with a wild glow. Its spiked mane seemed charged with static electricity, and with every movement, small sparks crackled across its armor.

The three young humans stood in awe at the majesty and raw power of these steeds. Death turned to them, his eyes blazing with impatience.

"Get on."

The three young humans exchanged a hesitant glance, sizing up the imposing, supernatural steeds of the Horsemen. Idris was the first to react, his eyes locking onto Strife's mount, whose metallic appearance seemed the most "normal"—or at least, the least intimidating.

"I'll ride that one..."

Strife burst into laughter, delighted by the response, and gestured for him to climb behind him.

Meanwhile, War was already mounting his steed, the hooves burning the ground with each movement of his mount. He extended a gloved hand to Fenja, inviting her to climb behind him. But the young huntress instinctively stepped back from the flames crackling around the steed. She bit her lip, trying to stay calm.

Noticing her distress, Aisling stepped forward and placed her hands on her shoulders. She offered her a compassionate smile, then guided her toward Fury's horse. The steed's gaze appeared curious, and it sniffed Fenja with interest. After a brief moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath and agreed to mount.

Aisling, in turn, turned to War, whose massive figure seemed almost unreal beneath the weight of his armor. She wouldn't have gone near Death's skeletal horse for anything. Before she had time to prepare, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing.

"Why… why are these horses so different?" she leaned slightly to ask, intrigued.

"They're Phantom horses," War replied in a deep, yet calm voice. "They adapt to their rider, their form reflects who we are. This is Ruin."

"Ah... nice Ruin..."

The Horseman slightly turned his head toward her, his piercing gaze meeting hers.

"Hold on."

She didn't have time to ask what for. The steeds took off at a furious gallop. They dashed across the desolate land, shattering the heavy silence of the place. Aisling felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body, her hands gripping the imposing armor of War. The wind whipped her face, and the ground passed by so fast under her eyes that she struggled to make out the details of the ruins.

The debris of the ancient civilization shattered under the weight of the horses' hooves. With dizzying, almost intoxicating speed, the ruins blurred by like shadows. The whole world seemed to vibrate around them. The scorching air, thick with ash and dust, pressed against their faces, and Aisling clung tighter to War, her heart racing wildly.

Then, suddenly, something caught her attention. She looked up at the sky, squinting to make out the shapes hovering above them.

"War!" she shouted, her breath caught by the speed. She almost climbed onto his shoulder to point at the sky. "Look! Birds!"

War glanced quickly upward before responding, his voice heavy with gravity.

"Those aren't birds."

At that moment, the sky darkened further, and the shapes in the sky became clearer. Small but numerous flying demons emerged from the ash clouds. Their torn wings flapped with frantic speed, and their glowing red eyes fixed on them with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

The demons swooped down on them like a hungry swarm. Strife drew his pistols with deadly precision, taking down several creatures before they could get close. But for each demon that fell, five more took its place.

Aisling felt a wave of panic rise within her. The demons were closing in too fast. The steeds galloped with wild ferocity, but the flying creatures seemed to follow without effort, diving at them with shrill cries.

One demon, bolder than the others, swooped at Aisling, scratching her arm as she tried to dodge. She lost her balance briefly on Ruin's back, her body tilting to the side. She felt panic overwhelm her, her hands slipping on War's armor as she fought to stay on.

At that moment, another demon grabbed her by the hair, its sharp claws digging into her skin. Aisling screamed in pain, terror flooding her as she fell.

Death, galloping alongside her, then grabbed her arm with lightning speed. He held her firmly and effortlessly hoisted her back into the saddle behind War. The wind whistled in her ears, and for a moment, all she felt was absolute vertigo.

"Try not to die," Death growled, his voice muffled by the deafening sound of the galloping.

Aisling, breathless, clung to War once more, her body still trembling from the attack.

The demons continued to chase them, but the Horsemen blasted them with their weapons, cutting through the air with terrifying precision. Suddenly, War yanked violently on Ruin's reins, making the horse veer in a bold maneuver. He glanced back, his eyes flashing through the dust and ash.

"Follow me!" he barked in a deep voice that echoed like thunder.

The other Horsemen reacted instantly. Death, Fury, and Strife urged their steeds after him, forcing their horses into a dark, narrow tunnel. Some of the flying demons chasing them couldn't react in time and crashed into the walls. But several managed to follow, their piercing screams echoing through the tunnel.

Aisling's eyes took time to adjust to the sudden lack of light, and the dull pain from her head injury further blurred her vision. She felt the blood slowly trickling down her forehead, sliding toward her cheek. Strife's pistols crackled relentlessly, briefly lighting up the darkness with short sparks of light. She could also hear the unyielding crack of Fury's whip, as well as the deadly whistles of Death's scythes, cutting through the air with terrifying precision.

Despite the violence of the ride, War placed his hand on her back, holding Aisling firmly to ensure she didn't slip from the saddle. She clung to him with all the strength she had.

Then, suddenly, a light appeared at the end of the tunnel, bright and almost blinding. An opening seemed to be forming ahead of them. The Horsemen's horses, sensing the way out, surged forward in one final leap. Ruin passed through the opening first, followed by the others, each springing out of the tunnel with supernatural agility.

Aisling turned just in time to see a heavy door closing behind them, decisively cutting off their pursuers. They emerged into what appeared to be a clearing, a vast open area surrounded by rocky cliffs. The air seemed strangely calm after the frantic ride. But this peace was short-lived. A few demons, faster or luckier than the rest, managed to pass through the opening before it shut.

However, before any of them could reach the Horsemen or their steeds, a gigantic hammer blow split the air, followed by a dull, terrifying sound. The ground trembled from the impact. The demon closest to Aisling was swept away in one strike, its body hurled with unimaginable force against the surrounding rocks, where it smashed into a bloody pulp.

Aisling looked up, and her breath caught. In front of them stood a titanic creature, taller than anything she had ever seen. The being was easily over three meters tall, its massive, muscular body covered in blue tattoos of ancient symbols. Its powerful arms gripped an enormous war hammer, the head of which seemed capable of pulverizing entire mountains. A thick, stone-like red beard framed its square, severe face, and its bright eyes, almost kind but imbued with unfathomable power, watched the Horsemen with a certain satisfaction.

"Ah reckon we've got a few things tae discuss, Horsemen."