The wind cut sharper as the ruins gave way to silence.
Caleb adjusted the strap of his satchel across his shoulder, each step echoing louder than the last. Beside him, Serenya moved with cautious grace, her robes stained with dust, her fingers never straying far from the hidden dagger at her belt. Her eyes, usually so calm, flicked warily between the broken structures ahead—and the being that walked a short distance behind them.
Avesari.
The angel walked in shadow and silence, her once-radiant form now dulled by the wounds she had endured. Ash clung to her bare arms, her tattered cloak rustling softly as if whispering the remnants of ancient songs. Her wings were half-folded, one dragging slightly behind her like a wounded limb. Caleb could still see the faint burn along her side where Serethiel's blade had caught her.
Serenya hadn't spoken to Avesari directly since they'd left the ruined Council chamber. She kept a steady pace beside Caleb, but the tightness in her jaw spoke volumes.
"You keep looking at her like she's going to grow horns," Caleb said quietly.
"She's a fallen angel, Caleb," Serenya murmured back, eyes forward. "I've spent my life preserving what little truth remains from before the Shattering. And every record says not to trust one."
Caleb exhaled. "Well, every record also said the skies would never fall. Look where that got us."
Serenya glanced at him, but her reply was cut short as Avesari finally spoke.
"We should make for the old sanctuary ruins beyond the southern ridge," she said, her voice hoarse but calm. "There's a relic buried there. One that may guide us."
Serenya stiffened. "The Sanctum of Echoes?"
Avesari nodded once. "You know of it."
"I know it was sealed for a reason."
Caleb stepped between them slightly. "Hey. Maybe let's focus on not bleeding to death before we argue about sanctuaries?"
Avesari gave the faintest trace of a smirk, though it vanished as quickly as it came. Her eyes returned to the horizon. The dark star still pulsed faintly above, like an eye watching from beyond the veil.
"I can't stay in this form long," she said. "The Mirrored Weave is broken. I'll need time to repair it... if I can."
Serenya frowned. "Then why help us?"
A pause.
"Because I remember what it was to hope."
The words settled between them like falling ash.
They reached the remains of a broken chapel at the edge of the city—a place of hollowed arches and cracked stained glass. The late light filtered in through fractured panes, casting strange, holy shapes on the rubble-strewn floor. Caleb stepped in first, carefully setting his broken violin down beside a rusted offering bowl.
He sank to his knees, exhaustion hitting him in waves. The fight, the music, the council—all of it had drained him beyond anything he'd ever felt.
Serenya remained standing near the door, arms crossed. Avesari walked to the far side of the chapel and slowly sat beneath a shattered arch, her back resting against the cold stone.
Silence held for a long time.
Then Serenya asked, "What exactly was he?"
Caleb turned toward Avesari, who didn't open her eyes but replied all the same.
"Serethiel was once one of the Twelve Harbingers. An agent of Heaven's Will. But now... he serves another. One whose name has been stripped from the stars."
"Your former commander?" Serenya asked.
Avesari nodded faintly.
"Then why did he run?"
"He didn't run," Avesari said. "He was recalled. Serethiel's pride wouldn't let him die in failure. He'll return—but not alone."
Caleb leaned forward. "What does he want with me?"
Avesari opened her eyes. "He heard the Song."
"The what?"
"The melody you played," she explained. "It's older than any cathedral, older than the rebellion. It carries fragments of a time when Heaven and Earth were not at war."
Serenya's eyes narrowed. "You're saying Caleb... remembered it?"
"Not remembered. Reached for it," Avesari said. "And it answered."
The chapel's shadows grew deeper with those words. Outside, the star flared once, brighter now, as if stirred by their voices.
"You've both been touched by the prophecy," Avesari murmured.
Serenya stepped forward, voice firm. "So what does it say?"
"That a mockingbird and a dark star would bring about the final harmony," Avesari replied. "Most took it as metaphor. I think... we no longer have that luxury."
Caleb frowned. "Which one am I?"
"That depends," Serenya said, softly. "On whether you're the one singing... or the one burning."
A silence fell again, heavier this time.
Then Avesari spoke, eyes distant. "We leave at first light. The path ahead is buried in ruin and myth, but it leads to answers. To the old sanctuary."
"And what's waiting for us there?" Caleb asked.
Avesari didn't answer immediately.
Finally, she whispered, "Judgment. Or redemption."
Her gaze met Serenya's, then Caleb's.
"We'll need to decide which."
The sun dipped low, painting the shattered world in hues of blood and gold. As night approached, Caleb began to feel that same tug again—like invisible chords humming beneath his skin. He touched the broken violin still strapped to his back.
"I'm going to need a new one," he murmured. Avesari tilted her head. "You may not. That song you played—it wasn't the instrument. It was you."
Serenya raised an eyebrow. "How is that possible? Music doesn't rewrite divine sigils."
"It does," Avesari said, "when sung by the one written into the Song of the End."
Caleb stopped walking. "Wait. What?"
Avesari looked at him, her eyes solemn. "The prophecy. The one you stirred with your melody. It speaks of a Mockingbird whose voice will awaken the stars."
"That's poetic and horrifying."
"You haven't heard the horrifying part yet," Serenya said. "The full prophecy ends with: 'He who sings in ash shall call the dark star down.'"
Silence. Avesari glanced at the sky.
Above, the dark star pulsed once more—distant, but watching.