The sky above the rift shimmered like a fractured mirror—veins of silver light bleeding into the dusk. The jagged outline of the gateway pulsed, no longer dormant but awakened by Avesari's remembrance, by the pain etched into the very soil where she had once fallen. Ash and embers still floated on the wind, carried from a battlefield long forgotten by the world—but not by her.
Avesari knelt at the center of the glowing glyphs, her breath shallow, eyes distant, lips trembling with the last fragments of an ancient hymn. Caleb stood close behind, his hands hovering uncertainly near her shoulders. He had never seen her like this—so broken and radiant all at once.
Serenya, clutching the Pathseeker in both hands, kept her gaze warily fixed on the growing rift. "It's almost open," she said, voice hushed.
Then the wind shifted.
A ripple in the world. A wrongness.
Caleb's head snapped around. "Do you feel that?"
Avesari stirred. "Yes."
Out of the dusk stepped Serethiel.
He was no longer cloaked in council robes. His form flickered, bent, touched by some deeper power. Wings dark as pitch curled behind him, burning faintly at the tips. His smile was still there, but it was thinner, more feral.
"Such a shame," he said softly. "You were so close."
Avesari stood, her movements steadier now. Her eyes met his—and for the first time, she didn't falter.
"You should've stayed in the shadows, hound."
Serethiel's smirk deepened. "My master prefers dogs who bite when commanded. But he also taught me the value of timing." His eyes flicked toward the rift. "And this… is a very inconvenient doorway."
He raised his hand.
The earth groaned—and from the shadows, constructs of glass and corrupted metal crawled forth. Spider-like, barbed, humming with tainted celestial runes. Caleb instinctively stepped in front of Serenya.
Avesari flared with silver light. Her wings—once tattered and skeletal—now shone with growing brilliance. Each memory she had relived, each searing moment, had peeled back the broken layers and restored what had been lost.
"You're too late," she said.
"We'll see."
Serethiel moved first, faster than before—bolstered by sigils etched deep into his corrupted skin, contingencies whispered into him by the Archangel he no longer fully trusted. His blade screamed as it tore toward her.
But this time, she met him with strength not borrowed, but remembered.
Their clash sent shockwaves through the air, flattening the surrounding ash. Lance and sword collided, light and shadow flaring in furious rhythm. Avesari's form gleamed—silver streaks threading through her hair, her aura no longer flickering but surging with renewed purpose.
"You're stronger than before," Serethiel hissed between strikes.
"I remembered who I am."
Serethiel twisted, driving her back with a blinding arc of corrupted fire. "And yet still sentimental."
Behind them, the constructs lunged for Caleb and Serenya. Caleb grabbed a fallen stave, swinging wildly to deflect one of the smaller creatures, while Serenya activated a glyph from the Pathseeker, searing another one mid-air.
"We can't hold them off!" Caleb shouted.
"You don't have to," Avesari whispered—and with a burst of silver flame, threw Serethiel across the broken altar.
She turned to the rift. It pulsed brighter with every second.
"We're going through—now!" she called.
But Serethiel rose again, blood trailing from his mouth, and grinned. "You're not the only one with borrowed time."
From his chest, a hidden seal cracked—and a burst of energy enveloped him. Runes not of his making, but given to him, flared with ghostly white.
Avesari's face hardened.
"The Archangel doesn't trust you."
Serethiel's eyes flickered. "He trusts me enough to kill you."
They collided again—fury and grace. But this time, Avesari was no longer restrained. No longer bound by injury. Each strike now carried the weight of purpose—and love. And fear. Because Caleb was behind her. And the rift was open.
And they couldn't stay here.
"Caleb!" she shouted, voice like thunder. "Take Serenya and go!"
"But—!"
"Go!"
Caleb hesitated for only a heartbeat—then seized Serenya's hand. The Pathseeker responded, drawing a trail of light across the rift's edge.
Serethiel lunged to stop them—but Avesari blocked him with a furious cry, her lance piercing through the side of his abdomen. He screamed, staggering—but did not fall.
The rift shimmered. Caleb and Serenya vanished through.
Avesari stood alone against him.
Her wounds still sang, but her power flared brighter than before—silver fire arcing from her wings, her voice an echo of old, celestial command. "This is the last time we dance, Serethiel."
Serethiel spat blood. "Don't be so sure."
And then—
She surged forward, every wound sealing, every broken memory turning to steel
Serethiel parried the blow with a snarl, his blade catching her lance and sparking white-hot light between them. "You're still just a shadow of what you once were," he growled. "You think a few memories can make you whole again?"
"No," Avesari said, her voice like tempered steel. "But they remind me why I fight."
She forced him back step by step, each strike driving deeper into his guard. His constructs twitched and crumbled behind them—Caleb's last glyph from the Pathseeker seared into the earth, unraveling their corrupted forms like cloth to flame.
The rift pulsed, its edge warping like liquid glass, and Avesari could feel the pull of it—beyond the veil, the true Sanctuary awaited. But this final obstacle still clawed at the gate.
Serethiel stumbled as she slashed across his chest, silver light burning through his corrupted armor. He fell to one knee, gasping, his wings twitching violently as if something else—something unseen—was trying to regain control.
"Why do you still fight?" she demanded, her lance at his throat. "You're not free. You're leashed."
His smile cracked. "I know."
The admission caught her off guard.
"I know I'm just a weapon. A failed one, at that. But as long as I can strike... I can matter. I can be seen." His voice trembled. "Even as a hound."
Avesari's eyes dimmed with sorrow. "You were more than this, once."
His laugh was bitter. "So were you."
Then, with a scream of raw defiance, he surged up—only for her lance to meet his heart. The light pierced through, blinding, and his final cry echoed like a fading bell.
When the light faded, only dust remained.
Avesari staggered, her breathing ragged, body trembling not from pain—but release.
The rift waited.
She turned and stepped through.