Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 260

Chapter 260: A New Direction (24)

Two embers retrieved.

But time was running out.

The sky began to split.

Elydrith watched from afar—always watching.

And in the final ember’s vision, Miraen saw the truth:

Aeliana had struck a bargain with the void to escape her prison.

But in doing so, she left a piece of herself in every realm she crossed—pieces the void fed upon.

Only if Miraen gathered them all and restored Aeliana’s soul could the Convergence be averted.

But the final ember?

It lay in Elydrith’s crown.

And to retrieve it, Miraen would have to face herself once and for all.

The night before the final ascent, the sky over Aeylith bled silver. Stars fell upward like tears returning to forgotten heavens, and time itself seemed to slow. Around the fire they had kindled in the ruined sanctum of the last mirrored temple, no one spoke for a long while.

Miraen sat beside Elyon, their shoulders barely touching. He stared into the flames, his brow furrowed with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said gently.

He glanced at her. “Just thinking.”

“About the fight?”

“Yes. And no.” A pause. “I’ve been thinking about what comes after. If there is an ‘after.'”

She looked at the flickering firelight dancing in his eyes. “I used to believe fate was a line—fixed, unbreakable. But here? Everything we know feels… rewritable.”

Elyon gave a soft laugh. “You were always the rebel between us.”

Miraen smiled faintly, but it faded. “Do you think we’ll ever see the real Aeliana again?”

“She’s real,” he said without hesitation. “Just scattered. Lost doesn’t mean gone.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

Across the fire, Sister Lira sang a soft lullaby in the ancient tongue. Korrin and Jax sharpened blades without speaking. The silence held a reverence, a prayer wrapped in breath and firelight.

Tomorrow, they would storm the Eclipse Spire—Elydrith’s throne.

Tomorrow, the final ember would either be restored…

Or extinguished forever.

—

The Eclipse Spire rose from the heart of Aeylith like a jagged tooth in the mouth of a dying god—formed of collapsed realms and shattered vows. The tower’s steps spiraled inward like a helix of broken time. Mirrors lined every wall, each reflecting not their image but their fears.

As they ascended, the air thickened with dread.

On the twenty-seventh floor, Korrin staggered. “I feel them,” he rasped. “Every soul I betrayed. They’re here.”

Miraen steadied him. “Don’t let them take root.”

He nodded, forcing himself forward.

At the fiftieth level, Lira collapsed. “Her voice… she’s in my head. She’s singing in reverse—undoing my name.”

Elyon knelt beside her, whispering truths until her breath calmed again.

At the seventy-second floor, they reached the Gate of Splintered Selves. Here, a final challenge awaited them—not of blade, but of will.

Each of them was forced to pass alone.

When Miraen stepped through, she was met by herself—no armor, no flame, just Miraen as a child.

“Why did you leave me behind?” the girl asked.

Miraen knelt. “Because I thought I had to be strong.”

“You don’t have to be anything but real,” the child said, and then vanished into light.

When she emerged from the gate, the others were waiting.

Only Jax did not return.

“We keep moving,” Elyon said tightly. “We’ll honor him at the summit.”

—

The throne room at the top of the spire was carved from obsidian so polished it reflected memories instead of images. Elydrith waited, seated in a throne of voidglass, the final ember pulsing in her crown like a second heart.

“You’ve come,” she said.

Miraen stepped forward. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Elydrith rose, her cloak unfurling like nightfall. “Then let us end what never should have begun.”

The final battle was not one of swords alone.

It was a war of truths.

Elydrith struck with despair—illusions of futures lost, love betrayed, hope corrupted.

Miraen countered with memory—of her mother’s laughter, of Aeliana’s voice, of the bonds forged in fire.

Korrin fought with fury and fell to his knees, whispering names of those he’d failed.

Lira sang light into the chamber, holding back the shadows with every breath.

Elyon found himself face to face with a twisted reflection—his worst regrets sharpened into daggers. He did not flinch.

And then Miraen reached the throne.

Elydrith stood, the ember in her crown glowing brighter. “You think taking this will bring her back?”

Miraen nodded. “Yes. Because she’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours either.”

“She’s all of ours.”

They clashed—sister and shadow, flame and void.

Every strike between them echoed like thunder across Aeylith.

In the end, Miraen didn’t destroy Elydrith.

She embraced her.

Wrapped her in the fire of remembrance.

“You are me,” Miraen whispered. “But I am not only you.”

And the final ember fell free from Elydrith’s crown.

She collapsed, not in pain—but in release.

The shadows drained from her form, leaving behind a girl with eyes full of sorrow.

—

They left the tower as the first light returned to Aeylith’s sky.

Miraen held the embers—now glowing in harmony—and poured them into the Starseal chalice.

From the light emerged a figure.

Aeliana.

Whole again.

She stood on the hill of shattered mirrors, wind stirring her silver hair.

“Miraen,” she breathed.

Tears streamed down Miraen’s cheeks as she ran to her sister.

They embraced, and for a moment, the world was right.

Elyon stepped back, watching the reunion with quiet joy.

Lira collapsed to her knees, exhausted but smiling.

Korrin bowed his head in reverence.

And behind them, Elydrith watched from the shadows—not vanished, but remade.

A remnant of the realm now mended.

—

In the weeks that followed, Aeylith began to fade—its purpose fulfilled. The path home was opened.

Miraen stood at the threshold of the Convergence Gate, Aeliana beside her.

“You’ll come back with us?” Miraen asked.

Aeliana shook her head softly. “Not yet. There are echoes I still must soothe. But I will return.”

They embraced one final time.

And then Miraen, Elyon, Lira, and Korrin crossed through the light…

Back to their world.

Changed forever.

—

But somewhere, in the place between realms, a voice stirred.

Not Elydrith.

Not Aeliana.

But something deeper.

Older.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because where there is light…

Shadow always listens.

And the next tale was already beginning to write itself in the stars.