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While Percy drew her last breath in the rift dimension, Timothy lay motionless back in their world - his spirit depleted from wielding forces beyond his control.

Around him, the ruins of Celestia City smoldered under violet skies. Emily, Mad, and Ryan stood vigil, faces etched with sorrow and exhaustion. The victory over the Void Sovereign had come at a terrible price.

Alya gazed down at Timothy's limp form dispassionately. With the immediate threat neutralized, her role here was complete. She had borne witness to the prophesied calamity's occurrence.

Yet something in the seer's wan face stirred a flicker of emotion she thought herself incapable of. Perhaps she had spent too long in this mortal realm.

Shaking off the unwelcome sentimentality, Alya lifted Timothy carefully. She would deliver him safely back to The Tower to recover, though his spirit may never fully heal from these wounds.

"Wait - we will come with you," Emily insisted, she and the others moving to join her. Ryan took up a watchful rear guard position as they slowly picked their way back through the ruins.

Sharing a moment of grief, the companions proceeded inside, laying Timothy gently down to rest.

In the days that followed, Emily and Mad tended to the comatose seer constantly, coaxing him to take meager sustenance when he would. But Timothy's spirit remained lost, severed from the awful tragedies witnessed.

Alya maintained her distance, appearing occasionally to provide obscure insights before vanishing again. But she continued watching over Timothy from afar, for reasons she could not fully explain even to herself...