Villain's Last Chance
Chapter 52: Rewritten in Fire and Flesh

Chapter 52: Rewritten in Fire and Flesh

The Forsaken’s words echoed in the chamber long after the glow of the seal began to fade.

"Then stay. And be rewritten."

A command. A promise. A threat. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Not with the way the Codex pulsed in my palm like it had found a new rhythm—no longer separate from me, but syncing with each beat of my heart.

Cairon’s hand gripped mine harder, as if afraid I might disappear. I didn’t blame him. I felt like I was unraveling in slow motion—becoming something else. Something not entirely mine.

"I’m not leaving," I whispered to him, more for myself than for him. "Not this time."

He didn’t answer. His eyes were still fixed on the Forsaken, who stood at the edge of the shattered seal like a priest overseeing a ritual that had already gone too far.

"You’ve made your choice," the Forsaken said, voice heavy with something older than disdain. "You will not be the same when you walk out of here... if you walk out at all."

"I never was," I said, louder now. "Not really. The day I woke in this body... everything changed."

The Forsaken’s smile was slight. Cold. "You still don’t understand the Codex’s price."

I raised it. "Then show me."

The runes on its cover shimmered again—twisting violently, unpredictably. And this time, I didn’t flinch. The Codex opened on its own, pages fluttering like wings caught in a storm.

Then they stilled.

Words burned into the parchment. Not the neat, etched lines I was used to—but messy, raw script, bleeding across the page like it had been carved straight from my soul.

"She who bore the name Elara shall fall. And from the ruin, rise another—judged by no one, bound by none."

A chill slid down my spine. I hadn’t written that.

Neither had the Codex.

This was new.

Written for me.

Or because of me.

Cairon leaned in, reading the same lines, and I saw it—just for a second—real fear flicker across his face.

"I don’t think this is just prophecy anymore," he said quietly. "It’s rewriting as we go."

"The Codex is reacting to choice," I said. "To will." I turned to the Forsaken. "You said I was the undoing of everything. Or the last key. Which is it?"

The Forsaken tilted their head, considering. "Why do you think I bound myself to this tomb, Elara?"

"I don’t know."

"I do," Cairon muttered, voice sharp. "You destroyed everything once. And now you’re waiting for someone else to finish what you started."

The Forsaken’s eyes glimmered—amused. "He’s always been quick."

I stepped forward, cutting between them. "Then help me understand. Because the Codex is changing, and I’m changing with it. I need to know what I’m becoming."

There was silence.

Then, finally, the Forsaken lifted a hand—and the chamber shifted.

The floor groaned. The walls rippled like water. And then we weren’t in the tomb anymore.

We stood in a ruined throne room. Stone scorched black. Shattered banners torn by fire. A broken crown lay at the foot of a skeletal throne.

I recognized it.

The same place I’d seen in a vision weeks ago.

The same throne she had sat on.

The villain.

Me. The one I once was.

"This is the future," the Forsaken said. "One of many. And in this one, you rewrite the Codex completely. You burn the old world. You reshape it in your image."

My throat was dry. "And the cost?"

"You."

I turned sharply. "What?"

"You lose yourself. What you are. What you love. The Codex will grant you power beyond any who came before you... but you’ll become what they feared. No longer mercy. Just judgment. Just fire."

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because I’d felt it.

The pull.

Every time I’d used the Codex to save someone, it left a mark. Every time I made a decision not in its favor, it punished me. And now, I could feel it craving more—more authority, more rewriting.

More control.

Beside me, Cairon’s grip on his sword tightened. "She won’t become that."

The Forsaken’s voice was low, knowing. "But would you still love her if she did?"

Cairon didn’t answer.

That silence cut deeper than a blade.

I backed away from both of them. "This is a trap."

"No," the Forsaken said softly. "This is truth."

I looked down at the Codex. Then at the ruined throne. Then at the man who had once killed me... and now stood beside me.

I knew what they were all waiting for.

My decision.

My direction.

But I wasn’t ready to burn yet.

I took Cairon’s hand again. My voice was quiet but unshaken.

"Let’s get out of here. We’ve taken enough ghosts with us."

And to my surprise—he nodded.

We turned, side by side, and the vision of the throne room began to fade. The seal’s energy crackled one last time around us before giving way to the cold, real air of the tomb.

The Codex didn’t close.

It simply shimmered—alive. Waiting.

Rewritten.

And so was I.

----

But even as we stepped away from the throne’s illusion and the chamber around us settled back into stone and shadows, something clung to me.

Not fear.

Not uncertainty.

Weight.

Like a thread had been stitched through my spine and tethered to the Codex itself, and every step away from the Forsaken stretched it tauter.

I stopped.

Cairon looked at me, confusion breaking through his usual composed mask. "Elara?"

I clutched the Codex tighter. "It’s not done."

He glanced warily at the Forsaken, who hadn’t moved. "Then what does it want?"

The Forsaken didn’t answer right away. When they finally did, their voice was softer—less ancient, almost human. "The Codex has never wanted. Not before you."

That terrified me more than any vision.

Because what happens when a force meant to record history starts writing it?

"What happens now?" I asked.

"You become the choice," the Forsaken said. "The living rewrite."

My mouth went dry. "You said I’d be judged."

The Forsaken stepped forward—not threatening, just... solemn. "Judgment was meant for those who misused the Codex. Those who stole it. You were never meant to live through what you did. And yet here you are. In a body not your own, with a fate that no longer follows rules."

I didn’t realize I was trembling until Cairon slipped his arm around me. It wasn’t protective—it was grounding.

A reminder.

That I hadn’t fallen into this alone.

I met the Forsaken’s gaze. "I don’t want to burn the world."

"But the world may need it," they answered. "You must ask yourself: are you rewriting to save them—or to save yourself?"

"I don’t know yet."

And that was the most honest thing I’d said.

Cairon was still watching me. I could feel his questions, unspoken, pressing against my skin like heat. But he didn’t say a word.

Instead, he turned to the Forsaken. "You’ve shown us what’s possible. Now tell us how to stop it."

"You can’t stop it," the Forsaken replied. "But you can shape it."

The Codex shimmered again, reacting to that truth. Its pages flipped violently on their own, faster and faster, until they stopped on a blank page.

A single sentence appeared in real time, inked in dark red:

"The hand that turns the page must bleed to bind it."

I stared at it. "What does that mean?"

"It means," the Forsaken said, "you must seal your place in the Codex—not as its puppet, but as its bearer. It must recognize you not just as the one who wields it... but as the one who can end it."

Cairon’s grip on me tightened. "That sounds like a final act."

"It is," the Forsaken replied. "But it does not have to be today."

I stepped forward, breath catching. "Then when?"

"When you’ve seen what’s left of the gods." The Forsaken raised their hand. "And made peace with what you used to be."

A low hum filled the chamber.

Then light—bright, cold light—began spilling down the walls, and the seal began to retract, revealing an arched tunnel behind it, ancient and untouched.

The Forsaken took one step back.

"Your path lies through there. You may rest tonight. But in the morning, the Codex will call again."

Cairon exhaled slowly. "You’re just full of riddles."

"I’m full of memory," the Forsaken corrected. "You two are full of consequence."

Then they vanished.

No flash. No sound. One blink, and they were gone.

Leaving us in silence, standing before the open path, with the Codex still glowing in my hands like it was alive and hungry.

Cairon turned to me, finally speaking low, like his words were just for me. "You sure you still want to walk this road?"

I didn’t answer him immediately.

I just reached out and took his hand.

Because even if I didn’t have all the answers, I knew this: I wasn’t going back. And I wasn’t running either.

Whatever the Codex had started—it would end with me.

One way or another.