Scene: Sanctuary ruins, just before dawn
Ravon stirred, golden sparks fading from his skin. The sanctuary was hushed now — no more battle cries, just the wind weaving through broken arches.
Seraphina knelt beside him, her hands still glowing softly from where she'd poured her flame into him. Her eyes, rimmed red, searched his face like she didn't believe he was real.
> "You were gone," she whispered, voice cracking.
"I called you, Ravon. You didn't answer."
Ravon turned his head slowly. His voice was hoarse, like he'd spoken with gods made of dust.
> "I didn't know who I was anymore. Not until I saw the forge again."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now I know... I was made to destroy," he said. "But I chose you instead."
There was a pause.
Then Seraphina leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. Her breath trembled.
So did his.
> "You weren't made for me," she said.
"You became mine."
---
She placed her hand on his chest — where a faint sigil still glowed, pulsing with both cradle light and abyssal heat.
> "This mark," she said.
"It's changing."
> "It's breaking," he corrected. "I was the lock. Now I'm becoming the key."
She swallowed hard.
> "What happens when the key turns?"
Ravon didn't answer immediately. His eyes flickered upward — to the faint shimmer in the sky, where the veil had been torn.
Seraphina placed her hand over her womb protectively.
> "Then we have to be ready."
Quiet pause
They sat in silence for a moment, leaning into one another. War had changed them. But it hadn't taken everything.
> "You're not afraid of me?" he asked suddenly, voice low.
She looked at him, fierce and soft all at once.
> "You think you're a monster," she said.
"But monsters don't cry in their dreams.
And they don't protect the light they were sent to destroy.
Suddenly, a faint tremor shook the ground.
Not from outside.
From beneath.
> "It's starting again," Ravon said, standing.
> "Let it," Seraphina whispered, eyes glowing.
"This time, we burn with purpose.
Seraphina didn't speak for a long time. The sanctuary around them still glowed with fading embers. But her eyes — they were fire.
She looked him dead in the face.
> "What are you really, Ravon?" she asked, her voice steady.
"Don't give me half-answers this time."
He blinked slowly.
The glow on his skin faded, but the mark on his chest still pulsed faintly.
> "I was made," he said. "In a forge beneath the Ninth Abyss. Not born — built. To kill the Child of the Cradle before she ever took breath."
"So me," she said. "You were made to kill me."
He flinched.
> "Yes."
> "And our child inside me?" she pressed. "Is it part of that prophecy too?"
He hesitated.
Then:
> "Yes. It's the balance. The one who will either break the chain… or complete the curse."
Her breath hitched.
She stepped back, just slightly. Not in fear — but to see him clearer.
> "Why didn't you kill me?" she asked.
His voice dropped.
> "Because the first time I saw you… you were already singing to something that hadn't yet formed. And I felt it."
"Felt what?"
"A soul. Yours. And… the one growing inside you.
It made me remember what it meant to be alive. Not forged. Not cursed. Just… alive."
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then her voice sharpened — like a blade being honed.
> "Do you still have a piece of that curse inside you?"
Ravon didn't lie.
> "Yes. The brand on my back holds it. It's breaking, but if it fully shatters—"
> "What happens?"
> "I might become what I was always meant to be."
Seraphina stepped forward again, lifted his hand, and placed it over her heart.
> "Then remember this," she said.
"You chose me. And I chose you. Not because of what you were —
but because of what you keep fighting to become."
> "… will you stand beside me? Or against me?"
Ravon looked at her like he was seeing the stars for the first time.
> "I'll burn the any one to ashes if they dares to take you from me
From the shadows, the Cradle-Keeper watched.
He said nothing.
But above, the Veil whispered open again.
And from beyond, something breathed —
Not awake yet… but stirring.