FADE IN:
EXT. DIVINE BATTLEFIELD — ETERNAL DUSK
A barren battlefield stretches beneath a sky without stars.
At its far end stands a colossal gate.
Black chains coil around its surface, their enormous links embedded deep within the earth.
Before it, a BEAM OF GOLDEN LIGHT rises from the ground.
A figure stands within it.
THE PROMISED CONSORT.
A towering warrior clad in crimson and gold, two greatswords resting at his sides.
He bows his head.
In his palm rests a small, withered flower.
His thumb brushes its brittle petals.
A chain trembles.
One of its links dissolves into golden dust.
Then another.
The Consort closes his fist around the flower.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: (softly) Soon.
Footsteps echo across the battlefield.
A lone warrior emerges from the darkness.
THE CHAMPION.
Two double-ended bladed spears rest at his sides, one in each hand when drawn. His armor bears the sigil of Heaven, glowing faintly beneath the dust.
He stops several paces behind the Consort.
THE CHAMPION: You have come far enough.
The Consort remains motionless.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Heaven has sent another?
THE CHAMPION: Heaven has sent its answer.
A faint smile touches the Consort’s lips.
He looks toward the gate.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Then Heaven has finally acknowledged me.
THE CHAMPION: It has acknowledged your trespass.
The smile disappears.
The Champion steps forward.
THE CHAMPION: The gates will not return her to you.
Silence.
A chain groans overhead.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: You speak as though you have stood where I stand.
THE CHAMPION: I speak as one who knows what waits beyond those gates.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Then you know she is there.
THE CHAMPION: Her soul has passed beyond the reach of this world.
The Consort turns.
His towering silhouette casts a shadow over the Champion.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: And yet you would deny me the chance to see her again.
THE CHAMPION: I would deny you the right to tear Heaven apart for a chance that does not exist.
The Consort studies him.
For a moment, neither warrior moves.
Then the Consort opens his palm.
The withered flower rests against his skin.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: When she lived, she would gather flowers from the fields beyond my kingdom.
He turns the flower between his fingers.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: She said that even the smallest things deserved to see another spring.
His fingers close.
The petals crumble.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: I promised her one.
The Champion’s grip tightens around his weapons.
THE CHAMPION: You cannot resurrect love by defying death.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: I do not ask her to love me again.
The Consort raises his head.
His eyes burn with golden light.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: I ask only that she live.
The final words linger across the battlefield.
The Champion lowers his gaze.
For the briefest moment, his expression softens.
Then he draws his two double-ended bladed spears.
Steel whispers against steel.
THE CHAMPION: Forgive me.
The Consort reaches for his own weapons.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: For what?
The Champion raises his twin spears.
THE CHAMPION: For being the one who stands between you and her.
The Consort draws both greatswords.
The earth fractures beneath his feet.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Then stand.
The Champion surges forward.
The Consort meets him.
Their weapons COLLIDE.
A thunderous shockwave tears across the battlefield, scattering stone and golden embers into the sky.
The Champion slides backward, boots carving trenches through the earth.
The Consort advances.
One greatsword descends.
The Champion catches it between the opposing blades of his two spears, his knees buckling beneath the force.
The Consort brings his second weapon around.
The Champion twists aside, spinning one spear to deflect the incoming blade.
The greatsword crashes into the ground, splitting the battlefield.
The Champion pivots through the dust and strikes at the Consort’s chest with the forward blade of his spear.
Steel sparks against divine armor.
The Consort barely moves.
He turns his head toward the Champion.
Disappointment flickers across his face.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Is this the strength Heaven has entrusted to stop me?
The Champion steadies his stance.
Blood runs from the corner of his mouth.
THE CHAMPION: No.
He raises his twin spears.
The sigil of Heaven ignites across his armor.
THE CHAMPION: It is the strength it has entrusted to bring you back.
The Consort’s expression changes.
The Champion charges.
Their weapons meet again.
Behind them, another chain dissolves.
The gate shudders.
A narrow seam of brilliant white light appears between its doors.
The Consort hears it.
A distant sound.
A whisper he has spent an eternity longing to hear.
His eyes widen.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: …My love?
The Champion falters.
The Consort turns toward the gate.
The light spills across his face.
He takes one step forward.
Then another.
The Champion moves to intercept him.
The Consort raises a greatsword between them.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: Do not.
The Champion freezes.
The Consort’s voice trembles.
Not with fear.
With hope.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: I have heard her voice in my dreams for a thousand nights.
The gate opens another fraction.
THE PROMISED CONSORT: If there is even the smallest chance—
THE CHAMPION: That is not her calling you.
The Consort goes still.
The Champion looks toward the gate.
THE CHAMPION: It is the heavens calling you to your grave.
The golden light spills across the battlefield.
The Consort tightens his grip around his swords.
The Champion raises his twin spears once more.
Between them, the gate continues to open.
Neither warrior retreats.
CUT TO BLACK.
END.
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