The battlefield around the Gate resembled a Hieronymous Bosch painting come to life—flames, undead, and corrupted elementals mingling in a dance of destruction. Captain Alastair Reid stood at the edge of this chaos, his eyes fixed on Seraphine as she emerged from the swirling vortex of The Weaver's influence. Her armor was cracked, her face smeared with ash and something darker—residue from the ley-lines she'd manipulated for so long.
"Captain Reid," she called out, her voice carrying over the din. "You see now, don't you? The Weaver is not a monster—it's a tool. And I am the only one who can wield it to save both worlds from themselves."
Reid snorted, his rifle still trained on her. "Save them? You've killed thousands, enslaved more. Your idea of salvation looks a lot like tyranny."
Seraphine's smile was a thin, cruel line. "You would know nothing of sacrifice. I have given everything for this moment."
Whitaker approached, Excalibur humming in her hands like a live wire. "Seraphine's right about one thing, Captain. The Weaver's power is beyond anything we've faced. But Excalibur can sever its connection to the Gate."
Reid's gaze flicked to Maeve, who stood a few feet away, her eyes closed as if listening to a distant melody. The Forgotten Flame pulsed in her grasp, its light faltering.
"Cost?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Whitaker's face was grim. "Maeve will need to channel all her energy into the strike. It's... unlikely she'll survive."
Maeve opened her eyes, a spark of defiance igniting within them. "Do it."
Just then, Singh appeared at Reid's side, her voice low and urgent. "Captain, we have a problem. Crowe's sent reinforcements through the Gate. Not to help us—to secure Excalibur and retreat back to Earth. He's abandoning Aeltheria entirely."
Reid's jaw clenched. "How much time do we have?"
"Less than an hour. They're moving fast."
As if summoned, a column of Challenger tanks emerged from the Gate, their turrets swiveling toward Valkyrie's position. Behind them, a phalanx of British soldiers in full combat gear advanced, their faces set with determination.
"Looks like Crowe's decided to play both sides," Williams muttered, sighting his rifle. "Guess we're the expendable pawns now."
Reid turned to Maeve. "We need to move. Now."
But Maeve didn't respond. She stumbled, the Forgotten Flame slipping from her grasp as The Weaver's whispers overwhelmed her. Whitaker rushed to catch her, but it was too late. Maeve collapsed, her body convulsing as if possessed by a force beyond her control.
"Backup plan?" Whitaker asked, panic creeping into her voice.
Reid's mind raced. They had no backup plan. They had Maeve, and now she was gone.
"Williams—get the team ready. Singh—coordinate with our Aeltherian allies. We're going in blind."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the battlefield in a bloody orange glow, Task Force Valkyrie prepared for one final push against Seraphine and The Weaver. They were running out of time, out of options, and out of hope. But they had each other—and that, for now, was enough.
"Let's make this count," Reid said, his voice carrying across the chaos. "For Maeve. For Gareth. For everyone who's fallen."
The response was a ragged cheer, a defiant shout into the void.
And then they charged.