​The Pope’s face drained of what little color it had left. The elders behind him gasped, some of them nearly falling back into the dirt.

To hear that the source of a thousand years of abyssal terror was not a mere demon, but a primordial creator god—and that he was currently being carted around on a northern stallion—completely shattered every theological doctrine they had spent their lives rewriting.

​"He... he has ceased his malice?" the Pope stammered, looking toward Julian. "He will no longer create demons."

​"The Saint has testified to that and so has our god," Nadic affirmed flatly, his voice echoing with a deep, weary reverence. "He has sworn an oath. The war... is over."

​Hearing the conversation from his saddle, Alaric gritted his teeth and steered his stallion closer to Julian’s mount.

"Since you are a literal god, you should just fly," Alaric growled at Norx, his rough voice slicing through the quiet of the road. "Hover in the clouds. Travel in the wind. Do whatever it is immortals do, but get off the damn horse and stay away from Julian."

​"I don’t want to fly," Norx hissed back, digging his fingers stubbornly into the fabric of Julian’s blue robes as he leaned his head to the side. "The wind messes up my hair. Besides, Alias invited me into the family, not the sky. I am staying exactly where I am, mortal."

​Julian let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as the familiar ache of a textbook headache threatened to form.

It was a massive, unprecedented disaster. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would happen. Still, it was a better outcome than letting Norx fall back into the darkness and gather up resentment again. At the time, he was responding to Norx’s grief and he was prepared to follow up with his actions.

Julian looked at the clear horizon, and a wave of profound relief washed over him.

At least, against all cosmic odds, no one was dead. The vanguard was whole.

​The journey back to the City passed in a blur of clattering hooves and silent, heavy brooding. Unlike their rushed descent into the southern pass, this time they rode slowly so the journey was longer.

By the time the heavy stone gates of the Holy City finally loomed ahead, the grand courtyard was already packed with waiting knights and attendants.

​The moment Julian’s stallion came to a halt near the central fountain, the heavy wooden doors of the inner wing flew open.

​A small, tanned skin and golden-haired figure burst through the threshold, running past Castor and the standing guards with a desperate, frantic speed.

​"Mummy! Daddy!" Lucius cried out, his small voice cracking with emotion.

​Julian didn’t even wait for the attendants to secure the stirrups. He slid down from the saddle with a smooth, fluid grace, his blue robes billowing around his ankles as his boots hit the stone floor.

He had barely stabilized his stance before Lucius violently collided with him, diving straight into his master’s arms with absolute force.

​Julian wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, lifting him against his chest as Lucius buried his wet nose directly into the crook of his neck, sobbing with a deep, overwhelming relief.

The golden light Julian had left on the child’s forehead flared once in recognition before dissolving back into his skin, confirming that the heir of the North was entirely safe.

​Alaric swung down from his massive black stallion a second later, his heavy boots thudding against the bedrock. His edged aura softened instantly the moment his eyes fell on his son, his large hand coming down to firmly press against Lucius’s back, anchoring his family together in the middle of the crowded courtyard.

​From up on the horse, Norx swung his legs down and unceremoniously dropped onto the stone floor, folding his arms as he stared at the emotional reunion with a twisted, curious expression.

​The cycle of tragedy was officially over, but the true trial of surviving each other had just begun.

The sheer, unadulterated relief of a bloodless victory transformed the usually austere Holy City into an arena of vibrant chaos.

That very evening, the grand dining halls of the Inner Sanctum hosted a feast that shattered centuries of rigid traditions.

Heavy platters of roasted mountain meat, thick marrow broths, and seasoned game—brought in by the northern knights—lined the long stone tables.

​For the first time in their lives, the high priests and the Holy Knights broke their vows of forced discipline.

Pope Clement himself had raised a shaking hand to take the first bite of meat, his eyes watering not from sorrow, but from the liberating realization that their ascended Lord had explicitly deemed it no sin. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

A group of elderly priests, who had spent decades sneaking around that abandoned area in the dead of night to feast on illegal meat, practically wept with joy.

They cast hurried, deeply grateful glances toward Julian, sweating in relief that the Saint would never have a reason to expose their past transgressions.

​The white city was completely merry, the roaring laughter of the northern vanguard echoing off the marble pillars as they forced the priests to clink heavy flagons of spiced ale.

​Later that night, the festive noise of the grand hall faded into a distant, rhythmic hum. Julian stood alone on the high stone balcony of his chambers, the cool night wind rushing through his hair.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, warmed by the heavy ale the northern knights had relentlessly poured into his glass.

​He leaned against the cold marble balustrade, looking out over the illuminated spires of the city. A profound, unshakeable quiet settled deep within his chest. It was truly over now. The heavy, invisible shackle of the system was gone, and the fragile framework of the world had finally stabilized.

​He had spent the early evening hours locked in a private room with Alaric, thoroughly explaining why Norx needed to stay with them.

He had explicitly promised his partner that inviting the fallen god into their household was by no means an invitation into a romantic dynamic.

Their actual, bizarre role was to simply help Norx open his eyes to the vastness of the mortal realm, guiding him to naturally avert his gaze until he found someone else his soul genuinely liked.

Alaric had been deeply disgruntled, his jaw tight enough to snap iron as he was well aware of Norx’s feelings towards Julian’s soul, but the Duke ultimately understood.

Julian had achieved the impossible: a conclusion where everyone survived, and true happiness was within arm’s reach. And so, he accepted the terms. But it didn’t mean he would be buddybuddy with the fallen god.

If he crossed the line, Alaric planned to retaliate.