As twilight cloaked Pain's kingdom, Uri descended into Hate's lair. Their pact was sealed not by words, but by lust - a carnal dance fueled by revenge and desperation. The union was dark, twisted, and binding. Uri and Hate became two storms merged, their rage coiling into a single, destructive purpose.
At dawn, they struck.
Elara was taken from her chamber in silence, her cries swallowed by enchantments. Pain awoke to a stillness that screamed of loss. The absence of her presence shattered him. He howled into the void, summoning ancient beasts to aid him.
The war ignited.
Realms collided. The heavens cracked. Thunder bled fire.
In the heart of chaos, Elara - though weakened - clutched her swollen belly, feeling the contractions begin. Time, twisted by magic, hastened the birth. She screamed not in fear, but in defiance.
Uri, already wounded in battle, lunged to strike the newborn, but was pierced by a beam of light from the child herself. Her body disintegrated into stardust.
Elara collapsed, holding her daughter.
Pain found them moments later. Hate staggered behind, his power broken. But instead of rage, Pain offered him his hand.
"I forgive you," he said, his voice thunder-soft.
Hate fell to his knees.
And the child, wrapped in dawn's glow, opened her eyes.