As Rokhan carried Theana in his arms out of the half-destroyed palace, both magis and non-magis gathered around him. None dared to come too close, as dark shadows circled his form like a warning.
Yet from a distance, they could see it clearly.
Their beloved White Magis had passed.
Some of the magis collapsed to the ground, overcome with grief. The non-magis felt the same sorrow, for they had long looked up to her far more than to their selfish emperor.
Theana never bore children of her own, choosing instead to become a mother to the entire nation—to her people. Her love extended even to the non-magis of Epsos. From the youngest child to the oldest elder, she was adored by the people.
Summoning what little strength he had left, Rokhan called forth his wyvern one final time. His life force was nearly depleted, and the will to live had long left him. The journey back upon his wyvern was nothing short of suicide—But to him, it was worth it.
He rode Azhdar towards Graitan.
By the time they arrived, the wyvern let out a piercing growl, sensing its master's fading life. It gently lowered both Rokhan and the lifeless Theana onto the courtyard floor of the palace. Magis of Graitan who witnessed the scene from afar rushed forward in alarm.
As a final farewell, Rokhan raised a trembling hand and placed it upon the wyvern's snout.
"It has been a pleasure… my friend."
The wyvern lowered its head, its voice heavy with sorrow.
"It has been an honor, my master. Rest well… be beside your beloved in the afterlife."
A faint smile appeared on Rokhan's face, one rarely seen.
He turned his gaze to Theana. With the last of his strength, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
Then, he exhaled his final breath.
His eyes dulled to brown, and in the same moment, the wyvern vanished into dark smoke.
The people of Graitan stood frozen in shock.
Two great magis… lay lifeless in the palace courtyard.
Though they did not yet know the full story, one truth was clear—their High General had gone to save their beloved Chancellor, and together, they chose sacrifice and indefinitely placing their people above their own lives.
No one could have wished for better leaders of a nation.
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The people of Graitan grieved. A funeral was held for both of them. Even those known for their cold hearts, like the dark magis, could not escape the weight of sorrow.
Instead of two coffins, they were laid side by side in a single, large coffin. Their hands intertwined in the middle.
Two figures approached the coffin.
The first was a white magis, the new Chancellor chosen by Theana to take her place. He bestowed one last blessing upon her, using his healing magic to erase the bruises from her face. Even in death, the least he could do was restore her visage, free of scars and pain. Into her other hand, he placed a sealed letter from her nephew, delivered by magis. No one knew its contents, yet all knew how much she loves her nephew and how her nephew loved her back.
The second figure was Kurton, the new leader of the black magis. He bore a striking resemblance to Rokhan, though with short hair and a broader, more muscular frame. His eyes now glowed red, inheriting the will of the wyvern. He stared at Rokhan's face, remembering the words spoken between them before Rokhan's final journey to Epsos.
"You are foolish to have a weakness," Kurton had said. "Emotions will only drag you down. They make you weak. You are the strongest of us… yet you—"
Rokhan had replied, his voice calm.
"It took me nearly ten years to understand the emotion I feel. It is… what they call love. If it is indeed a weakness, then let it be the death of me."
And so he had died. For love.
Kurton could not help but feel a pang of pity for someone so powerful, brought low by something as fragile as love. He vowed that he and his descendants would remain true to the way of the dark magis, free from such emotions.
Yet as a gesture of respect, he placed a red ruby symbolizing power for the dark tribe people, in the into Rokhans' other palm together with a small pouch filled with Theanas' crystal tears.
With that, the funeral on that day came to an end.
Meanwhile, the people of Epsos, magis and non-magis alike, held a grand funeral in honor of Theana. Her portrait was displayed for all to see, framed by countless flowers laid in her memory. Though the Emperor did not attend, he granted his people the right to grieve.
Cruel as he was, a trace of regret lingered within him. A bitter taste clung to his tongue, reminding him of the suffering he had inflicted upon Theana. Yet, at the end of her life, she had never cursed him nor spat in defiance. Instead, she chose to sacrifice herself for the sake of others.
And now, Lennix still lived because of her—his life extended by her final act.
The Emperor found himself burdened with conflicting emotions over all that had transpired.
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The people of Graitan continued to mourn. In time, they erected a statue at the very center of the courtyard where Theana and Rokhan had fallen.
Entwined, facing one another as if in their final moment, the monument stood as a silent testament to their bond.
It was named "An Eternal Love."