The wind had changed.
Rael could feel it — not on his skin, but in his soul. The air that once carried silence now trembled with a pressure just shy of violence, like the space between lightning and thunder. The world was holding its breath, not in awe, but in apprehension.
They were being watched.
Even the trees knew it. The leaves didn't rustle. The animals had gone still. The very earth seemed to hum with a tension that only divine forces could produce.
They moved east from the Hollow, the forest behind them shrinking into mist. Selene scouted ahead with Kessai, blades and instincts sharp. Laria and Nyssira navigated from old maps, discussing ruins lost to time and gods.
The route wound through the edge of the ruined wilds toward the Shattered Meridian — a jagged rift of broken peaks and storms, said to be the place where a fallen titan's spine had cracked the world. If the legends were true, the ninth seed slept somewhere near its heart.
But they didn't reach the Meridian before the first omen found them.
A scream fell from the sky.
Rael's head snapped up — and he wasn't alone.
A streak of silver tore across the heavens, glowing wings arcing like fire. Not beast. Not bird. Divine. A celestial emissary cloaked in blinding white, with a spiral of divine script trailing his descent.
He hit the rocky hill ahead of them like a meteor, smoke billowing around his broken form. But even shattered, he stood.
White blood oozed from his side as he dragged a gleaming spear forward, one hand clutching his ribs.
Rael stepped forward calmly. "Name yourself."
The angel coughed, his voice hollow. "I am Seraviil. Herald of Edict and Flame."
"Then you're far from your throne."
Seraviil's eyes burned white. "The Pantheon sends its first and final mercy."
"I didn't ask for mercy."
"You were born of defiance," the angel said, trembling with fury. "But you will die in chains."
He hurled his spear with a shriek that split the air.
Rael caught it.
Mid-air. Barehanded.
It sizzled in his grasp, burning with divine fire, until he willed it to dissolve in golden-black flame. Ash spiraled into the wind.
"I don't chain," Rael said. "I burn."
Power erupted outward. Selene moved like lightning, ducking low, her blades singing as she carved across the angel's legs. Kessai leapt from a nearby tree, flipping mid-air to land a downward strike into Seraviil's shoulder.
The angel roared, but Nyssira's wind magic surged — compressing around his chest, tearing the air from his lungs. He fell, gasping.
Rael stood over him.
Seraviil bled from eyes now — the divine ichor evaporating into silver mist.
"She watches…" he rasped. "She waits. The Breath of War has begun."
And with that, he crumbled to ash.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Kessai cracked her knuckles again, muttering, "That was fun."
Nyssira, pale, stared at where the ash had fallen. "He wasn't sent to kill you."
"I know," Rael said. "He was sent to deliver a message."
Selene knelt beside the mark burned into the stone. It hadn't faded.
A spiral. The sigil of the Supreme Pantheon.
Laria looked to the horizon. "They know we're not just gathering power anymore. We're nearing something they fear."
Rael nodded.
"The next seed changes everything."
They made camp by nightfall in a ruined grove that had once been sacred. Vines climbed broken arches. Moss swallowed old stone. Scattered statues — all headless — stood in a half-circle formation like forgotten sentinels.
"This place feels… expectant," Nyssira murmured.
Laria touched one of the cracked pillars, whispering old verses. "This was the temple of the Order of Vael'Tir. A place where grief was worshipped, and memory given form. They served a goddess of healing and wrath. Her name's been erased."
Rael frowned. "Erased how?"
"By divine decree. You can always tell — the erasures leave residue. Power doesn't vanish, it just… hides."
And in the breeze, something stirred.
Rael turned his head — and for the briefest second, he thought he saw her.
A figure standing at the far end of the circle. White hair. Bare feet. A crown of thorns over her brow.
But then she vanished.
Nyssira stepped beside him.
"You saw her too, didn't you?"
Rael nodded slowly.
"I think… she's waiting."
"Who is she?"
Rael didn't know.
But the name whispered across his thoughts like breath:
Aeris.
That night, after the fire had burned low and most had gone to rest, Rael remained alone in the clearing.
He heard her approach before she spoke.
Shaevari.
She dropped her cloak beside him, her movements quieter than wind.
"Don't say anything."
Rael turned to her slowly. Her face was unreadable. Tension held her shoulders high, but her eyes… they betrayed everything.
"You should've left me back in the Hollow," she said, staring into the fire. "That's what I expected. I was bait. A shadow. A tool."
"You're not."
"I was. For a long time. But I kept waiting for the moment you'd discard me. The way everyone else did."
"I don't discard people," Rael said.
"I noticed."
He didn't move.
But his presence reached her like gravity.
"I hate that I need you," she whispered.
"You don't need me," Rael said gently. "You chose to stay. That's stronger."
She looked at him — raw, unshelled.
"You make me want to stop fighting," she said. "But I don't know how."
"Then let me teach you."
Her breath caught.
And then she moved.
They crashed into his tent like shadows colliding.
Their mouths met in a furious kiss, teeth clashing, lips bruising. She stripped him of his tunic with shaking hands. He lifted her by the hips, laying her back across the furs as her armor fell away piece by piece.
There was nothing soft about it.
Not at first.
She moaned as he slid into her — fast, hot, full. Her legs locked around him, and she pulled him deeper, hips rolling with wild precision. She gasped every time he bottomed out, her hands clawing at his back.
"Harder," she whispered.
He obeyed.
Their bodies moved with abandon — like battle, like need, like something that had waited too long. Sweat slicked her skin. Her hair tangled across her cheek. Her voice broke as she came once — then again — her body shaking with release.
But in the moments after, when her breath finally slowed…
She broke.
Tears spilled silently down her face as he wrapped his arms around her.
She didn't try to stop them.
"I don't know what I am," she whispered.
"You're mine," he said. "Not because I own you. But because you chose me."
She pressed her face into his chest.
And didn't say another word.
She didn't need to.
Because she stayed.
And that meant everything.
Rael slept for the first time in days.
And dreamed.
He stood before a massive door carved from obsidian and veined with gold. It loomed taller than mountains, with no handle, no lock, and no sound. Just a single phrase etched across its center:
"One must surrender."
He reached toward it.
It pulsed.
And then… nothing.
He awoke with Shaevari still draped over him, her breathing slow, her body warm.
The fire outside still burned faintly.
But something had changed.
Far above, in the heavens, another bell tolled.
And somewhere, far to the north, the Ninth Door stirred.
The next step would not be taken by force.
It would require something more costly.
Surrender.