They fell like feathers, slow at first.
Then faster.
Each wing bore scars. Tears where light should've been. Etchings burned into bone and membrane—sigils of ancient courts long lost. Their descent wasn't graceful.
It was surrender.
Mira instinctively stepped in front of Leon. Tomas flanked her. Both ready, both silent. The girl raised no alarm, no shield. She only watched.
"They were watchers once," she murmured. "Witnesses to the flame. When the fifth seal cracked, they lost more than names. They lost the sky."
Leon pushed himself upright. "Are they coming for us?"
She shook her head. "They come for me."
The first hit the ground ten feet away. Not a crash— but an impact. Dust swirled. Its form unfolded—tall, narrow, encased in what once might've been silver armour. Now dulled. Fused to flesh.
Its face was covered. But the lines etched across its helm pulsed—dim, irregular.
The girl stepped toward it.
The creature dropped to a knee.
Others landed behind it.
