The wind had changed.
By the time Leina and Aethion emerged from the shattered ruins of Elyndor, the air itself seemed to vibrate with a subtle warning — like the trembling of a string before it breaks. The jungle that once hummed with hidden life now felt barren, subdued, waiting.
Leina's steps faltered as they reached the edge of the canyon. "They're watching us," she said quietly. "I can feel it… something vast, just beyond sight."
Aethion's eyes, bright as molten silver, swept across the horizon. "Not something," he murmured. "Many. The Seraphim have awakened."
The word struck like a blade. She remembered the voice in the vision — Send the Seraphim. Those divine soldiers who once knelt beside Aethion before the rebellion, whose swords could pierce even the essence of light itself.
Leina clutched her wrist, where the mark glowed faintly beneath her skin. "They'll come for me."
"They'll come for us," Aethion corrected. "You carry the Dawn fire — and I, the sin of guarding it."
Without another word, he unfurled his wings. The motion stirred the air like a storm breaking; feathers of silver and ash scattered the dust of centuries. "Hold on to me," he said, voice edged with resolve.
Leina stepped forward, hesitating only a moment before his arm drew her close. Then the world fell away beneath them.
They rose through the canyon like arrows of light and shadow intertwined. The wind howled past them, carrying scents of stone, rain, and ozone. The ruins of Elyndor dwindled beneath — a glowing scar upon the earth.
For a time, neither spoke. The sky was wide and endless, but Aethion's expression grew darker with each heartbeat. He felt them — presences cutting through the firmament far above, drawing closer with impossible speed.
When Leina finally spoke, her voice was small against the roaring wind. "You said you once knew them. These Seraphim…"
"I did," he said bitterly. "They were brothers once. Wings of judgment, forged in the highest light. To them, obedience is the only virtue, and mercy the first sin."
Leina shivered. "Then they won't stop."
"No," Aethion said, scanning the skies. "They will not."
And then — the heavens split.
A flare of blinding light tore through the clouds, accompanied by a sound like thunder and steel. Three figures descended from the rift, their wings radiant, their armor burning with celestial fire. They were beautiful and terrible all at once — faces without blemish, eyes without warmth.
Aethion stopped mid-flight, hovering in the wind as Leina clung to him. "They're here," she whispered.
"I know," he replied, voice tight. "Hold fast."
The lead Seraph raised his hand, and the sky ignited. A column of pure light speared downward, shattering the air between them. Aethion dove, twisting through the current with inhuman grace. The blast struck the mountain below, vaporizing stone.
Leina gasped, her heart hammering. "They'll kill us both!"
"That," he said grimly, "is their intention."
He banked sharply, diving into the clouds. Lightning flashed around them, echoing his wings with violent brilliance. But the Seraphim followed — swift, silent, merciless.
"Can we outrun them?" she cried.
"For a time," he said, eyes narrowing. "But not forever. The light they wield burns through all shadows — even mine."
Another blast streaked past, grazing one of his wings. The feathers hissed and smoked, leaving trails of silver ash. Aethion gritted his teeth but did not falter.
"Hang on!"
He plunged into the storm below. Rain lashed their faces; thunder drowned all thought. For a moment they were lost in the tempest — until the ground appeared beneath them once more: a vast expanse of jungle broken by cliffs and rivers of molten rock.
Leina could barely speak over the wind. "Where are we going?"
"To the Shattered Vale," Aethion said. "A place even angels fear to tread. Its silence will shield us."
They flew lower, the air thick with heat. The rain gave way to mist rising from volcanic earth. Black stone spires jutted from the ground like the bones of giants, and faint crimson light pulsed beneath the surface — as if the world itself still smoldered from some ancient wound.
When they finally landed, Aethion staggered, his wings trembling. One was burned, the edge of its feathers charred where the Seraph's strike had grazed him.
Leina rushed to his side. "You're hurt!"
"It's nothing," he lied, though his voice was hoarse. "A wound of light heals slow for one such as me."
She pressed her palm gently to his wing, and the mark on her wrist flared. A soft golden glow seeped into the feathers, soothing the blackened edges.
Aethion winced but did not pull away. "Leina, stop—"
"I can help you," she said fiercely. "Just let me—"
He caught her wrist, his eyes locking with hers. "Every time you use the Dawnfire, heaven feels it. They will find us faster."
She met his gaze unflinching. "Then let them come. I won't watch you suffer for saving me."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then he released her hand. "You are stubborn," he murmured.
"And alive because of you," she whispered.
The light faded slowly from his wing, the damage eased but not undone. When she finally withdrew, both stood in the half-gloom of the Vale, surrounded by the hum of unseen power.
Aethion turned his gaze to the dark horizon. "This place once housed the remnants of the First War — the one that tore the heavens from the world. We may find answers here… or death."
Leina's voice was quiet, but sure. "Then we'll find them together."
He looked at her — truly looked — and for the first time, something like fear flickered in his celestial eyes. Not fear for her, but of her: the power she carried, the choice she represented, the possibility that she might one day eclipse even the light he once served.
Before he could speak, a low rumble shook the ground. The air thickened with heat, and the crimson glow beneath the stone brightened.
From the fissures in the earth, shadows began to rise — not like those she had fought before, but shaped like soldiers, armored in smoke and flame. Their eyes burned with infernal hunger.
Aethion drew his blade, its edge singing with holy resonance. "The Abyss has scented you too," he said grimly. "Heaven above, hell below — the world itself conspires against us."
Leina lifted her hand, her mark already blazing with gold. "Then let's make them remember why the Dawn fire was sealed."
Aethion smiled faintly, the storm reflected in his eyes. "Spoken like the daughter of light and ruin."
And together, they faced the gathering darkness — win
gs of fallen grace and the flame of forbidden creation — as the first battle of the age began anew.