The morning light broke gently over the horizon, filtering through veils of mist that clung to the ancient trees. By the time Leina and Aethion reached the canyon's edge, the air had grown heavy with silence — not the calm of peace, but the stillness that precedes revelation.
Before them stretched the *Ruins of Elyndor*, a vast necropolis of marble and shadow. Towering pillars pierced the clouds, their surfaces engraved with celestial runes that pulsed faintly with light, as though the stones themselves still remembered the songs of heaven. Half of the city was swallowed by the jungle, the other half lost to time.
Leina stopped at the edge of the cliff, gazing down in awe. "It feels alive," she whispered. "Like something is breathing beneath it."
Aethion's expression was unreadable. "That is not far from the truth. Elyndor was once the crossing point between worlds — where angels walked among men. The air here still remembers their presence."
He spread his wings slightly, feeling the current of unseen power move through the canyon. "It was also here that I fell."
Leina turned to him, startled. "Here?"
He nodded, eyes distant. "When the heavens judged me unworthy, it was from the spires of Elyndor that I was cast down. The stones of this city drank my light and buried it beneath their grief."
She studied him for a long moment. "And now you've returned."
"Not by choice," he said softly. "But perhaps by fate."
They descended the narrow path that wound along the cliffside, guided by faint glyphs glowing beneath their feet. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, until their breath rose in pale streams. The ground shimmered faintly, and Leina realized the stones were not mere rock — they were crystallized fragments of angelic essence, still humming with residual power.
When they finally stepped into the city's heart, a vast courtyard opened before them. Broken statues of winged beings lay scattered like fallen gods. In the center stood a great circular platform inscribed with concentric rings of symbols — and at its heart, a single throne, carved from obsidian and wrapped in vines of silver light.
Leina felt her mark respond instantly, burning faintly against her skin. "Aethion… this place is calling me."
He turned sharply. "Do not answer yet. The ruins test those who enter. They do not welcome strangers easily."
But the pull was too strong. Her steps carried her forward before she realized she was moving. The air thickened with energy, shimmering like heat above a flame.
As she reached the center of the platform, the runes beneath her feet flared to life. Light surged upward in spiraling arcs, forming a dome of gold and white around her.
"Leina!" Aethion called, trying to reach her — but an invisible force threw him back, his wings colliding against the ancient stones.
Within the dome, Leina felt herself weightless. The light wrapped around her like a living thing, warm and cold all at once. Then came the voices — countless and ancient, speaking in a tongue she somehow understood.
> "Bearer of the Dawnfire… why have you awakened us?"
Her lips trembled. "I… I don't know. It called me here."
> "You carry the spark that was lost. The fire once sealed within the heart of the fallen."
She looked down at her hand, where the golden mark pulsed furiously. "The fallen… you mean Aethion?"
> "He was the vessel of light denied. You are its heir. The fire that once belonged to heaven has found new flesh."
The revelation struck her like thunder. "Then my power… came from him?"
> "Not from him alone," the voices replied. "From the union of his light and the breath of creation. You are neither mortal nor celestial. You are the bridge that was never meant to exist."
Her pulse quickened. The air around her trembled, and she felt her heart surge with unfamiliar energy — wild, ancient, alive.
Outside the barrier, Aethion struggled to rise. "Leina! Whatever you see, listen to me — it will try to bind you with truth, but truth can enslave as easily as it frees!"
His voice pierced through the haze, and for a moment, the light faltered. Leina blinked rapidly, her breath shaky. "Who are you?" she demanded of the voices. "What do you want from me?"
> "To remind you of what you are," they said. "And what must come."
Suddenly, the dome shifted. The light folded inward, forming an image — a memory not her own.
She saw the heavens before their fall: towers of radiant flame, oceans of light, and a thousand winged beings kneeling before a throne that glowed brighter than the sun. And there — among them — was Aethion, younger, proud, burning with divine fire.
Then came the rebellion. Aethion standing against the decree of silence, his wings darkening, his eyes filled with anguish. The Dawnfire — the very essence of creation — was ripped from the heavens and cast into mortal form, sealed away to keep it from the fallen.
Until now.
The vision shattered. Leina dropped to her knees, gasping. "It was him. You were punished for protecting the fire…"
Aethion's voice echoed from beyond the barrier. "And now that same fire burns within you."
The voices spoke again, softer this time, almost mournful.
> "The balance wavers once more. If you live, heaven will tremble. If you fall, the abyss will rise. Choose your path, daughter of light and dust."
The dome of light dissolved. Aethion rushed forward, catching her before she collapsed. Her skin was cold, her eyes distant.
He held her tightly, whispering, "You should not have borne that burden alone."
She opened her eyes slowly. "They said I am the bridge between heaven and earth… that my power was sealed for a reason."
Aethion's jaw tightened. "Because that power can unmake creation itself. It was never meant to belong to either world."
Leina looked toward the ancient throne, its surface now glowing with faint runes. "Then tell me what I am supposed to do."
Aethion hesitated. "Survive. That is the first step. The rest… we must discover before the heavens do."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, though the sky was clear. A strange wind stirred through the ruins, carrying whispers that were not their own.
Leina turned sharply. "Did you hear that?"
He nodded grimly. "Yes. We have awakened something — and not everything that wakes remembers mercy."
As they left the courtyard, the throne behind them began to crack, releasing faint tendrils of golden smoke. The carvings on its surface shifted, reshaping into a sigil neither of them could decipher — one that pulsed in perfect rhythm with the light on Leina's wrist.
Far above the clouds, in the silent realm of the divine, a voice broke through the stillness.
> "The Dawnfire stirs once more. The bridge lives. Send the Seraphim."
And in the shadows beneath the world, another voice answered with laughter.
> "Then let the hunt begin."