Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 230: Descent.

The battlefield lay in ruin, dust and embers swirling in the violent winds left in Luciel's wake. The air itself felt hostile, heavy with power beyond reckoning. Trevor and Lamair staggered to their feet, battered but not broken. Seraphina and Madeleine groaned from the wreckage, momentarily out of the fight.

Trevor wiped blood from his chin, his red eyes gleaming with unyielding fury. He turned to Lamair, whose dark form was slowly reforming from the damage inflicted. Their gazes met, and in that instant, a silent understanding passed between them.

There was only one choice left.

"Sync," Trevor muttered.

Lamair nodded. "Sync."

The moment the word left their lips, the world changed.

From within them, a deep resonance shook the very foundations of existence.

Trevor's body burst into crimson smoke, his form shifting, reshaping. His limbs elongated slightly, his fingers sharpening into jagged, claw-like talons. His head was still humanoid, but behind his face, a spectral skull emerged, pulsing with a deep red glow. His hair turned weightless, strands of living mist curling and twisting around his body like tendrils of blood. His very presence became something half-corporeal, half-nightmare, as though he was a wraith given flesh.

Lamair's transformation was just as terrifying. His arms lengthened, his fingers splitting into chitinous claws. His back sprouted additional spindly limbs, each tipped with obsidian blades. His skin hardened, darkening to an abyssal black, while his third eye expanded, glowing with a venomous purple light. His jaw elongated slightly, taking on a spider-like structure, his teeth gleaming like razors. He clicked his mandibles, the sound unnatural and bone-chilling.

Luciel raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

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The wind around him swirled, sensing the shift in the battle.

Trevor and Lamair vanished.

For the first time, Luciel barely saw it coming.

Trevor reappeared right before him, his mist-body distorting space, his claw slashing forward.

Luciel dodged—but only barely.

The razor-like fingers grazed his shoulder, leaving behind not just a wound, but a gaping rift that bled liquid crimson mist.

Then Lamair descended from above.

His new limbs moved with terrifying speed, his multiple arms weaving necrotic sigils that drained the very essence from the air. A hundred black threads shot forward, aiming for Luciel's vital points.

Luciel twirled, the wind exploding outward.

But Trevor was already behind him.

His crystalline skull glowed, releasing a pulse of pure soul corruption.

For a split second—Luciel felt it.

A dragging weight on his very being, like something was trying to pull his soul into oblivion.

Luciel's smirk disappeared.

"Enough."

The winds howled.

Luciel spun once, and with that single motion, the entire battlefield collapsed inward.

A hurricane of compressed air detonated outward, shattering the space itself.

Trevor and Lamair were sent flying, their monstrous forms flickering as they struggled to resist the force.

Luciel exhaled, rolling his shoulders as the wound on his arm began to close unnaturally fast. "Impressive," he admitted. "Your power is far greater than before."

Trevor and Lamair rose once again, panting but unchained. The Sync had pushed them beyond their limits, but even now—it wasn't enough.

Luciel raised his hand, the winds gathering into a singular spear of pure force, one that could erase them from existence.

Then—

The sky shattered.

A tremor unlike any before rumbled across the heavens. The winds themselves froze, as if they, too, were afraid.

The sky split apart.

A massive, black void tore open above them, stretching across the heavens like a bleeding wound.

A presence—an unspeakable, suffocating presence—poured out.

Trevor staggered. Lamair clenched his mandibles. Seraphina, still recovering, felt her divine energy falter.

Luciel's eyes narrowed.

For the first time in this battle, his grip on the wind tensed.

Something was coming. Something that even he had not expected.

...

The molten crater pulsed with a soft, rhythmic glow, the heat embracing rather than consuming. The lava moved like liquid silk, weaving around the unconscious and wounded bodies of Barki's sisters, seeping into their skin, mending torn flesh, revitalizing broken bones. Their labored breathing steadied, their expressions of pain easing into peaceful repose.

Barki knelt in the center of the pool, her arms wrapped protectively around Harley and Clara, her own body trembling from the effort. The brilliant orange of her dragon magic flickered, a tangible manifestation of her heartache and devotion.

She brushed a strand of ash-covered hair from Harley's face, her fingers lingering on her cooling skin. "You're safe," she whispered, pressing her forehead against hers. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Clara stirred slightly, her eyelashes fluttering as a soft groan escaped her lips. Barki cupped her cheek, her molten eyes searching her face for any sign of relief. Clara's breathing was weak, but steadying, the magic working deep within her.

The others—Lisa, Andriel, Carmen, Pisces, Christel and Elaine—lay close by, their bodies half-submerged in the molten embrace. The lava shimmered around them like a cocoon, drawing the pain away, replacing it with warmth, with comfort. Their fingers twitched, their chests rising and falling in unison.

Barki exhaled shakily, her gaze falling to her own trembling hands. She had been strong for so long. She had fought, bled, endured—but here, now, as she held them, she felt something inside her crack.

She wasn't the invincible dragon she pretended to be.

She was a woman who loved deeply, who feared loss more than death itself.

She tightened her hold on Harley and Clara, pressing soft kisses to their foreheads. "Come back to me," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please..."

The lava pulsed in response, glowing brighter, its warmth deepening. The runes in the air shimmered, as if answering her sorrow with silent reassurance.

A soft sigh escaped Lisa's lips. Carmen's fingers twitched, curling slightly as if reaching for something—someone. Andriel's brows furrowed for a moment before relaxing, a quiet breath of relief slipping from her.

They were healing. Slowly, but surely.

Barki closed her eyes, letting her own tears fall, disappearing into the molten pool beneath her.

For now, they were safe. And as long as she breathed, she would make sure they stayed that way.