Aisling gently dabbed at a scratch on Idris's cheek, her fingers agile and sure despite the tension that surrounded them. The young warrior, on the other hand, seemed distant, his mouth slightly open, his eyes fixed on the giant sitting across the room.

"Close your mouth, and stop staring," she whispered, smiling in amusement. "It's rude."

"It's Ulthane," he replied, without taking his eyes off the giant.

"I know."

"No, but do you understand?" He looked at her for a moment, astonished, as though she hadn't grasped the importance of the fact. "Ulthane. THE Ulthane from the stories, the one they tell the children! The one engraved in the Nimrach Tree-Temple! The one who protected the last humans before Fury took them."

"Yes, Idris, I know," Aisling sighed with a smile, infinite patience in her voice. "It's my job to tell those stories, remember?"

The three of them were in a vast circular chamber, carved directly into the rock, as if the heart of the Earth itself was sheltering them. The room, ancient enough to seem eternal, radiated silent power, with its immense staircases leading to a grand forge. On one side, a cavity held clear water, from which an unexpected coolness emanated; on the other, the suffocating heat of lava rippled, illuminating everything in an unnatural red glow. Aisling wondered how many centuries, perhaps even millennia, this place had endured, long before the ruins they had left behind.

Further ahead, Ulthane and the Horsemen were having a private discussion. From the ring, Nimue had whispered in almost reverent tones that this giant belonged to the Makers, the legendary Creators of worlds.

Idris, sitting on the steps leading to the forge, seemed barely aware of the disinfecting treatment Aisling was applying, lost in his excitement and the memory of the flying demon attack. Fenja, on the other hand, paced the steps with measured steps, her face lowered and thoughtful. She finally stopped, lifting her eyes to her friends, breaking the silence.

"Do you think he will help us?"

Idris turned his head, his face lit with unwavering faith.

"Of course he'll help us!" he declared, his voice full of optimism. "He already saved mankind, he'll do it again."

Fenja didn't answer right away, her eyes briefly meeting Aisling's. A dull unease seemed to weigh on her, but she held back from speaking, as though she preferred not to tarnish Idris's enthusiastic conviction. That was new.

For a brief moment, the young healer scanned her friends, as if searching for some subtle change in them, but her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their host. Ulthane stepped forward, his heavy and confident stride accompanied by a deep voice with lilting, rolling inflections, marking each word with a rough warmth.

"Ah, well, looks like ah wis right tae trust Fury tae take care o' ye, wee ones." he said, with a hint of pride, a rugged but sincere kindness crossing his expression, marked by centuries of experience.

Ulthane then extended his massive hand toward Aisling to help her rise. Her small human hand seemed tiny against the thumb of the imposing Maker; yet, when he closed his palm around it, his movements appeared incredibly gentle and careful, contradicting his apparent strength. With a sincere smile, he watched her, almost paternal.

"So, yer the one carryin' the seed, eh?" he said in a gravelly voice, yet filled with kindness. "Lemme see it."

Hesitant, Aisling lowered the collar of her tunic beneath her breastplate, revealing a black, sinuous stain that stretched under her skin around her sternum, marking the spot where the seed was taking root inside her. Ulthane observed it closely, letting out a soft grunt of thought. His piercing eyes lifted to meet Aisling's, filled with a kind of respectful tenderness.

"An' now that ye've got it, ye've nae a clue what tae do wi' it, eh?" he asked with an amused smile.

A bit embarrassed, Aisling shook her head, avoiding his gaze. Ulthane let out a light laugh, motioning toward the Horsemen with a nod.

"Och, this reminds me o' someone! Ye're made tae get along, aye," he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

Idris, still watching the Maker with awe, carefully straightened up, his face beaming with enthusiasm.

"Could… Could you help us? With replanting the seed?"

Ulthane gently adjusted Aisling's tunic, covering the dark roots again, before nodding.

"Aye, lad. That could verra well be."

War, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, took a step forward.

"And in exchange for what?" he asked, his tone as sharp as his blade. "Your debt for hastening the Apocalypse has been paid."

Aisling opened her mouth, but before she could intervene, Ulthane slowly turned toward the Horsemen, his gaze direct.

"I paid ma debt tae ye, nae tae them."

"Admit it, you just have a soft spot for them." Strife let out a small laugh and, with his arms crossed, teased him in a conspiratorial tone.

Ulthane shrugged and replied with a wry smile,

"Jus' like ye..."

Death, with calm impatience, broke the moment of camaraderie.

"Just tell us what's needed to replant the seed," he asked in a cold voice. "And if it can really succeed."

Ulthane looked at each of them, his smile fading as he regained his seriousness. His gaze turned toward the forge, and he let his words fall into the heavy silence of the room, his voice echoing like a remnant of ancient tales.

"When the Makers shaped the worlds, they planted the Trees o' Life an' Death. These Trees connected each realm tae the others, creatin' bridges fer souls between the planes, helpin' them on their journeys. The Tree's tied deep tae the realm it grows in, learnin' from that world through the souls that pass through it. Its roots an' branches feed on the essence o' the realm. The seeds keep its memory an' might serve tae seed other lands, other worlds. But, like all life, they can only take root if the conditions are right."

"The conditions?" Fury frowned, perplexed.

"What does any plant need tae grow?"

"Water..." Aisling replied almost instinctively, her soft voice cutting through the silence. "Soil, sunlight, air..."

Ulthane nodded, satisfied. He then fixed Strife with a look, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint.

"Doesn't this remind ye o' somethin', Horseman?"

Strife nodded, though his expression was bitter.

"The Four Elements..."

"What exactly is he talking about, brother?" War turned an inquisitive gaze, his brows furrowed.

The White Rider, casually leaning against the stone wall, sighed.

"Well, my big one, while you were chained up after being accused by the Council of supposedly triggering the Apocalypse, I was sent on a mission to kick the butts of some demonic Lords who had taken possession of the essences of the Four Earthly Elements. They used them to redecorate the place, so to speak. When Earth was destroyed, it wasn't just the end of mankind. Everything that lived, all the creatures, all the flora, all of that, disappeared. The demons fed on it, and this massive source of life attracted many other creatures into the equation... the problem was that I had no idea about this detail, and by eliminating the demon Lords who had claimed it, I released the Four Elements in their rawest form, and I probably made everything worse... oops?"

Death, attentive, suddenly interjected, his gaze inquisitive.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"Are you kidding? You weren't there, Death," Strife exclaimed, making clear for the first time the existence of a certain friction between him and his brother. "War was imprisoned, Fury was somewhere between worlds, and you... well, you had simply disappeared. I thought that obeying like a good little soldier for once could give me a chance to prove War's innocence to the Council. But... I quickly realized I had been deceived."

"And like me, the Council sent you alone, hoping you'd fail," Fury shook her head.

"That I'd die. But I caught them off guard, I survived... by hiding. I blended in with the human survivors, became one of them. The rest, you know. Fury arrived, Ulthane created the Reflecting Pool, she took them far from here and I died heroically covering their escape"

Aisling blinked, unsure if she'd heard correctly.

"I'm sorry ... You died?!"

"Oh, didn't anyone tell you, dove? All four of us literally died for you! And we don't even have a little statue…"

"Strife, enough," Death interrupted him, clearly not wishing him to dwell on the subject.

"So... if we get the essences of the Four Elements, we can plant the seed, right?" Fenja asked with a glint of anticipation. "Grow a new tree of life, rebirth the Earth?

"Theoretically, aye," Ulthane looked at her for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Theoretically?" Fury raised an eyebrow.

"Restorin' the Four Elements tae their original, 'tamed' state, if ye will, will help the Earth," Ulthane let out a low laugh, a sound that rumbled deep like thunder in the forge. "That'll let this poor world begin tae regenerate, tae regain a bit o' stability. Maybe one day it'll balance out the havoc Hell's brought. But that... that's jus' the beginnin'. The easy part."

Idris and Aisling exchanged a glance. Despite Ulthane's relaxed expression, the magnitude of the challenge was clear.

"The Makers, when we built the worlds, had tae learn how tae tame the elements, shape 'em, control 'em," Ulthane crossed his arms and nodded slowly. "But the Earth's elements, now that they're wild an' furious again, won't be easily tamed. Their power's raw, unchecked. An' it'll take more than a Maker tae channel them."

Strife burst out laughing joyously and spread his arms wide.

"Perfect! There are four of us!"

"Seven," Aisling corrected him, tilting her head.

"No," Death cut her off sharply. "You three stay here with Ulthane."

The three young ones immediately protested in unison, Idris explaining that they hadn't gone through all this just to wait, Fenja assuring them that they knew how to defend themselves, and Aisling protesting that they could be useful.

Ulthane raised a hand to calm them, feigning a patience that was only half sincere.

"I've already done enough babysittin', an' I'm passin' the torch," a gleam of amusement flashed in his eyes. "Now, it's yer lot, Horsemen. These three are yer responsibility. Besides, findin' the Elements won't be as simple as followin' a marked trail. Their influence draws many creatures... an' threats far worse than those wee flyin' rats. With seven o' ye, ye'll have a chance tae cover more ground... an' our young healer here doesn't have much time."

"Very well," Fury nodded slowly, a bit resigned, but still focused. "Where do we start?"

Ulthane paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the glowing lava of his forge, thinking intently.

"The essence o' Fire'll be the easiest tae locate. It doesn't hide—quite the opposite. It waits, proud an' defiant, ready tae challenge anyone daft enough tae dare approach it. It's made its home in the region o' the Burnin' Lakes, but plenty o' demons wander there tae test their mettle against the beast."

"I'll take care of that mission," War straightened, his gaze filled with determination.

Ulthane nodded before turning his gaze to Aisling, pointing to her chest with a massive, calloused finger.

"She must come wi' ye. The seed she carries will be able tae contain the essence o' Fire once it's tamed."

"Won't that... kill her?" Fenja, worried, interjected, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Ulthane chuckled softly, a guttural, warm sound that echoed in the room.

"She already carries the memories o' the Earth within her. It's a bloody miracle she survived that, so the essence o' Fire... aye, she'll be able tae withstand it. But we've gotta act fast. An'... there's somethin' else."

His tone grew heavier, as if he was weighing the importance of what he was about to say.

"I've noticed strange things in the ruins. Movements. Not demons, not angels. Humans."

The three young humans froze in place, their expressions shifting from shock to hope. Idris was the first to react, his voice laden with emotion.

"Humans? Where? Are you sure?!"

"They might be the ones who were taken during Nimrach's attack," Fenja stepped forward, her breath quickening. "The people from our village... maybe even our leaders?"

"Not close enough tae say," Ulthane crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "I don't know how many there are. Or who they are. I've been aware o' them for years, but they avoid all contact, an' every time I tried tae get closer, they vanished like mist."

"Years? But… that's not possible!" Aisling's eyes widened, her face betraying her confusion. "The attack by Nimrach happened just a few days ago."

War, who had been silent until now, furrowed his brows.

"Years, you say..." He seemed lost in thought, his hardened face marked by an unusual perplexity. "It can't be survivors of the Apocalypse either. I've roamed the ruins of Earth long enough after its fall to know what became of the humans who didn't escape..."

He trailed off, as if forbidding himself to continue, casting a brief glance at the three youths. His jaw tightened slightly, as though he was holding back something he wanted to say.

"I don't know more than that," Ulthane shrugged, his tone pragmatic yet enigmatic. "Whatever the case, they're there. Do with that information what ye will."

"Very well," Death nodded. "Fury and Strife will go with the others for reconnaissance. I'll investigate these… humans alone."

Strife stepped forward, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He clapped Idris on the back, causing him to stumble slightly under the force.

"Come on, boy scout, go say goodbye to your sweetheart and let's get moving!"

Fenja blushed slightly, averting her gaze, while Idris protested in a hurried, overly defensive tone that they were just friends. Aisling smirked in amusement. Very new, indeed. The three friends take a moment to hold back, watching their faces as if fearing to see it for the last time. Idris forces an encouraging smile.

"Okay. Let's do what we have to do and all go home ... Are we agreed, girls?"

"What's that phrase you always used to say before leaving on missions when we were on Nimrache?" asks Fenja, gripping their shoulders as if to hold them back better. "See you soon?"

"Yeah ... see you soon, then."

"See you soon."

Aisling watches Fenja and Idris walk away, following Fury and Strife respectively, a knot in her stomach. Before she could linger on the thought, she sensed a presence beside her: Death had approached silently. Placing a brotherly hand on War's shoulder, he locked eyes with him, a silent message of caution and warning. Then, to Aisling's surprise, he turned to her and gently took her wrist.

"If you or the seed are ever in danger, activate this mark."

With the tip of a clawed finger from his gauntlet, he traced a complex and ancient symbol onto the back of her hand. Aisling shivered as a cold sensation coursed through her, and she watched the symbol glow faintly with a pale green light before fading, as if absorbed into her skin.

"What is this?"

"You haven't captured any of my chess pieces," the Horseman replied with a sly smile. "No piece, no question."

"We don't even have a board anymore!"

"True... I'll take care of that."

War watched his brother but held back from commenting. Then Death walked away without another word, vanishing into the shadows.

"Oh, an' one more thing..."

Ulthane called out to War and Aisling before they left.

"Last time I checked, the pigeons were after the essence o' Fire too."

"The pigeons?" Aisling frowned.

"Angels."

"Oh…"

"What do they want?" War asked.

"That, I don't know," Ulthane shook his head slowly. "But angels always find a way tae meddle in matters that dinnae concern them. So, be careful, both o' ye. An' War? Try not tae smash anything else tae pieces..."

The smell of smoke... and blood.

Aisling was sinking into a red, sticky mire, dense like clay, but oozing with an unhealthy, almost living crimson glow. Her feet disappeared into the viscous substance, which seemed to devour her strength with insatiable hunger. Progress became harder and harder, her legs weighed down as though invisible chains were trying to hold her back. The effort was consuming her.

A suffocating heat pressed down on her from within. Her throat burned, and she struggled to breathe. Her eyes stung, irritated and incapable of producing even a single tear. The intolerable physical pain compounded with the boiling emotion rising within her: a pure, wild, uncontrollable rage.

Aisling clenched her teeth, feeling the tension build in her jaw to the point where she wanted to bite, to tear. Why wasn't she moving faster? Why did her body feel so weak? She had a mission, an essential task... No, not the seed. Something else, something more urgent. She had to hurry to make them pay. The rage burned so fiercely it drowned out everything else.

She looked down, searching for the reason behind her slowness, and her heart skipped a beat. Skeletal hands were emerging from the red mire. They clutched at her legs, coiling around her ankles like serpents made of blackened bones and burned flesh.

She struggled, furious, her hands grabbing the charred arms to wrench them off her legs, but they kept coming, more numerous, more persistent. Their claws dug into her flesh. Aisling's anger erupted. It was their fault. They deserved what was happening to them. They all deserved her wrath.

She remembered now. Those mangled, broken, shattered bodies... they were her doing. She had done this. She raised her blood-covered hands, now horrified, and opened her mouth to scream. A woman's voice rose near her ear, trembling with horror.

"What in Heaven's name have you done?"

The scene shattered suddenly, like glass breaking, and she awoke with a gasp, panting for breath. She passed a hand over her chest, trying to soothe the excruciating burn that consumed her, the seed pulsating like a second heart. It took a few moments for her to remember where she was.

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows around her. Leaning against Ruin, she felt the comforting warmth of his flames, which, strangely, did not burn her. She didn't remember his presence when she'd fallen asleep, cold to the bone, but she was grateful to have found herself nestled against him. The steed dozed lightly, his ears twitching slightly as the young woman stirred. They had galloped for hours before stopping in the ruined world, the Horseman insisting that Aisling needed rest.

"Bad dream?" War's deep voice broke the silence without him turning around.

Seated on the other side of the fire, he kept watch over the darkness like an untiring sentinel.

"I... I'm not sure... I've been having strange dreams lately."

"Strange?" He turned his head slightly, interest flickering in his pale eyes.

"It feels like what I see in them ends up happening... I dreamed about Nimrach's attack… And the seed… I don't understand."

War remained silent for a moment, thinking.

"What did you dream about this time?"

"I'm not sure... I was angry. Furious. And people suffered because of it. But I felt nothing else—only rage. As if… they deserved it."

"Hmm... In the Three Kingdoms and beyond, there have always been individuals able to perceive the flow of the universe, to feel its currents. Seers. Humans have had some, too. You should ask Death. He'll know."

"Were there seers… among the Nephilim?"

War turned his gaze to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive features, as though astonished she knew that name. Yet he made no comment, his expression quickly returning to its opaque neutrality.

"No. Perhaps because we are an... unnatural race. If they had existed, maybe our fate would have been different. But I doubt it."

"Why?"

He remained silent, scanning the shifting shadows of the nocturnal landscape. The flickering firelight danced across his severe features, enhancing his air of vigilance. A heavy silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the flames.

"Hmm... Perhaps we should—"

His sentence cut off abruptly. His eyes narrowed, and his body tensed as though straining to catch an imperceptible sound. Ruin, who had been motionless until now, suddenly raised his head, his ears swiveling toward an unseen direction. The horse's nostrils flared, releasing a short, sharp snort.

Aisling felt her heart quicken.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying a trace of unease.

War did not answer, but his fingers tightened around the hilt of his immense sword. Then she heard it: the sound of wings, heavy and powerful, like those of an immense bird. The noise seemed to come from everywhere at once, a rustling that made the air around them hum. Aisling turned nervously, her eyes scanning the darkness.

The next moment, a gleaming shadow of gold and silver pierced the darkness, bursting into a blinding glow under the campfire's light. A winged figure descended upon them with blinding speed.

Aisling barely had time to make out the figure of a woman with radiant wings—immense, white with golden hues that seemed to capture and refract the light. Her silver hair floated around her face, which was etched with icy fury. Her sword rose, tracing an arc of burning light.

War reacted with supernatural speed. His gigantic blade intercepted the strike with a metallic scream, a clash that made the ground beneath them quake. Sparks flew in all directions, illuminating the angel's face contorted with rage.

"I warned you I wouldn't hesitate, Horseman!" she said, her crystalline voice rumbling like celestial thunder.

Aisling stood frozen in place.

An angel...