The cathedral died around them.

Stone collapsed inward through clouds of ash and crimson light while the reactor imploded beneath Prague, sending shockwaves through the city hard enough church spires folded sideways into burning streets.

Still—

inside the center of the destruction—

Lucien only noticed Seraphina’s heartbeat fading.

Nothing else mattered anymore.

Not the Gate convulsing overhead.

Not the eldritch creatures disintegrating beneath waves of shadow.

Not the alliance fighters screaming evacuation orders through the ruins.

Only her.

God.

No.

Lucien carried her through the collapsing cathedral with one arm wrapped beneath her shoulders and the other pressed desperately against the sanctified wound in her stomach like force alone might hold death back if he refused hard enough.

Blood soaked through his hands instantly.

Too much blood.

Her blood.

The thing inside him—the ancient monstrous thing Doom finally awakened fully—wanted violence.

Destruction.

Consumption.

But Lucien wanted one impossible selfish human thing instead:

Her alive.

“Stay with me.”

The words came out rough and broken against the roar of collapsing stone.

Seraphina tried answering.

Blood spilled from her mouth instead.

God.

Lucien felt panic hit so violently the shadows around him exploded through the cathedral corridors uncontrollably, ripping falling debris apart before it reached them.

Every surviving creature fled from him now.

Even the eldritch things.

Because grief had transformed him into something terrifying enough monsters recognized instinctively.

Cassian limped beside them through the collapsing nave supported by Morvena and two sanctuary medics.

His face had gone frighteningly pale beneath blood loss.

Still—

still—

he kept looking at Seraphina with growing alarm.

“That blade,” he said hoarsely. “Lucien, it’s sanctified at the reactor level.”

Lucien didn’t slow.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Cassian coughed painfully. “It’s not just killing her. It’s preventing stabilization.”

Lucien’s entire body tightened.

No.

They emerged into the ruined cathedral courtyard where snow fell thickly beneath the bleeding red sky.

Prague burned around them.

Entire districts collapsed under Gate fractures while alliance survivors evacuated civilians through shattered streets below.

Lucien dropped to his knees beside the broken cathedral fountain still holding Seraphina against his chest.

The world blurred around him strangely now.

The corruption.

The transformation.

The grief.

Everything inside him becoming too large for language.

Seraphina’s breathing sounded shallow.

Wrong.

God.

She looked cold already.

No no no.

Lucien brushed blood-soaked hair carefully back from her face with trembling claws no longer fully human.

“Look at me.”

Seraphina opened her eyes weakly.

There she was.

Still there.

Barely.

A tiny exhausted smile touched her mouth afterward.

“You’re making… a scene.”

The joke nearly destroyed him.

Because she sounded like herself.

Even now.

Even dying.

Lucien laughed once under his breath.

The sound cracked apart halfway through.

“I have always been dramatic under stress.”

Cassian turned sharply toward Morvena nearby.

“We need medical extraction immediately.”

Morvena looked at the wound once.

Then away.

God.

That tiny movement told Lucien everything.

No.

The sanctified blade damage spread visibly beneath Seraphina’s skin now.

Silver light moved through her veins like poison.

Reactor poison.

Church relic poison.

Made specifically killing things tied to immortality and prophecy.

Lucien felt something ancient and violent inside him beginning to lose coherence entirely.

The shadows around the courtyard darkened harder in response.

Several alliance fighters backed away instinctively.

Seraphina noticed immediately.

Even dying—

still noticing other people’s fear first.

Her hand lifted weakly toward Lucien’s face.

“Hey.”

Lucien leaned down instantly into the touch.

God.

Her fingers felt colder already.

“You’re scaring everyone.”

“I don’t care.”

The answer came too fast.

Too honest.

Seraphina’s eyes softened painfully.

“I know.”

Lucien closed his eyes briefly.

Because yes.

That was the problem.

The world burned.

Reality collapsed.

People died everywhere around them.

And none of it remotely compared to the terror of losing her.

God.

He finally understood now why immortality corrupted people eventually.

Because love made the universe feel negotiable.

Lucien looked down at the blood soaking through his hands.

Then toward the ruined red sky overhead.

Then finally back at Seraphina.

And slowly—

horribly—

a thought entered his mind.

No.

Cassian saw it happen instantly.

“Absolutely not.”

Lucien ignored him.

Seraphina frowned weakly.

“What?”

Cassian moved closer despite obvious pain tearing through his own body now.

“Lucien,” he said sharply, “don’t you dare.”

Lucien’s gaze remained fixed entirely on Seraphina.

The transformation inside him still raged violently beneath the surface now.

Wings partially unfurled behind him.

Shadows moving unnaturally through the snow.

Monstrous.

Ancient.

Terrified.

“She’s dying.”

Cassian looked furious suddenly.

“Yes,” he snapped. “And turning her immortal while you’re psychologically collapsing into eldritch nightmare godhood feels strategically questionable.”

Fair honestly.

Lucien barely heard him.

Because Seraphina’s heartbeat kept slowing.

Every second quieter.

No.

He remembered the observatory.

Her laughter beneath snowfall.

The way she folded book corners instead of using bookmarks like a criminal.

The way she always reached for him in sleep.

God.

No.

Lucien looked down at her again.

“I can save you.”

Seraphina went very still afterward.

The courtyard fell silent around them.

Even the war seemed farther away suddenly.

She understood immediately.

Of course she did.

Immortality.

The thing she spent her entire life hunting.

The thing currently destroying the world.

Lucien’s voice shook slightly.

“I can turn you before the sanctified damage finishes spreading.”

Cassian swore softly under his breath nearby.

Morvena looked away entirely.

Because everyone understood the same horrifying truth:

If Lucien transformed her now—

there would be no undoing it afterward.

Seraphina stared up at him through pain and snow and red apocalypse light.

Tears burned visibly in her eyes.

Not fear.

Grief.

God.

Lucien touched her face carefully with blood-covered hands.

“You said I don’t get deciding for you anymore.”

The sentence nearly broke apart halfway through.

“So decide.”

The wind moved softly through the ruined cathedral courtyard.

Snow gathered slowly in Seraphina’s hair.

Lucien looked at her like a dying man kneeling before the last thing beautiful left in existence.

And for the first time in centuries—

the First Vampire begged someone not to leave him behind alive.