I never thought I'd miss the Purifier trying to kill me, but compared to Azazel floating in the middle of our sanctuary with that smug look on her face, the Purifier was starting to seem like the friendly option.
"This is a secure location," Valen growls, hellfire dancing between his fingers. "How did you find us?"
Azazel's lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Those eyes—silver with streaks of shadow—are fixed on me like I'm the only person in the room. The blood bond between us pulses beneath my skin, an unwelcome reminder of our connection.
"Did you really think I couldn't follow him?" she asks, gesturing toward me with one perfect hand. "His blood calls to me. Especially now that he's becoming... something more."
I feel Caleif move to my side, her golden aura flaring protectively. The contrast between them couldn't be more stark—Caleif's warm light against Azazel's cold perfection. Both beautiful, both powerful, both somehow entwined with whatever I'm becoming.
"What do you want?" I demand, fighting to keep my voice steady. The gauntlet pulses against my arm, responding to my agitation with crimson energy that flows just beneath my skin.
Azazel descends fully to the ground, her movements liquid and graceful. "The same thing you do, Kamen. Survival." Her gaze shifts to take in the others—Roshan with his scarred face and cold determination, Elara with her twin blades drawn and ready, Valen maintaining his defensive stance. "The Eradicators are coming. Samael has united the celestial host under his banner. Even the Purifiers' remaining followers have joined him."
"And you've come to warn us out of the goodness of your heart?" Elara's voice drips with skepticism.
Azazel doesn't even glance her way. "I've come because we need each other. My exiles are powerful, but we lack... certain capabilities that you possess." Her eyes return to me, lingering on the gauntlet. "Particularly you, Kamen."
"Me?" I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Last time we met, you performed some ritual on me without my consent. Forgive me if I'm not eager for a repeat performance."
"The blood bond was necessary," she says simply. "I needed to ensure you'd survive what was coming. What is still coming."
I feel Estingoth stir within my mind, his presence alert and wary. "She speaks half-truths," he warns silently. "There's more to her agenda than survival."
"There's always more," I mutter under my breath.
Seraphine steps forward then, her opal eyes shifting colors as she studies Azazel. "The Harbinger of Dawn," she says, using a title I've never heard before. "You've chosen an interesting time to reveal yourself."
Azazel's perfect composure falters for just a moment—a flicker of surprise quickly masked. "Seraphine Hallow. I didn't expect to find you here."
"Clearly." Seraphine's lips curve into a smile that makes my skin crawl. "Which makes me wonder what you're really after."
The tension in the room thickens, power building between these two ancient beings. I can feel it pressing against my senses, making the dark veins beneath my skin pulse in response.
"Stop it," I say, stepping between them. "Both of you. We don't have time for whatever centuries-old grudge match you've got going on. If the Eradicators are really coming, we need to focus on that."
Azazel's expression softens as she looks at me, something like pride in her eyes. "You're growing into your power. Good. You'll need it."
"I don't want power," I snap. "I want answers. Real ones this time. What am I becoming? What does this blood bond actually do? And why are you really here?"
She studies me for a long moment, then nods as if coming to a decision. "The blood bond connects us. It allows me to find you, to sense your condition. But it also works in reverse—you can sense me, draw on my knowledge, even my power if necessary."
"You didn't mention that part before," I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
"You weren't ready to hear it." Her gaze shifts to Caleif, lingering on the golden aura that surrounds her. "Just as you weren't ready to understand what you're becoming."
"A Nexus Being," I say, watching her reaction carefully. "That's what Seraphine called it."
Azazel's eyes widen slightly—genuine surprise this time. "She told you? Interesting." She glances at Seraphine with newfound respect. "I didn't think you'd reveal that particular truth so soon."
"The time for secrets has passed," Seraphine replies smoothly. "Samael's forces will be here within days. If Kamen is to have any chance of manifesting his full potential before then, he needs to understand what he is."
"And what is that, exactly?" I ask, looking between them. "Beyond the fancy title."
Azazel steps closer, and I fight the urge to back away. The blood bond pulses stronger with her proximity, an uncomfortable warmth spreading through my veins.
"You are becoming a focal point," she says, her voice dropping to an intimate murmur. "A place where the barriers between realms thin and bend. Human. Demon. Angel. All flowing through you, reshaping you into something that can reshape reality itself."
"That's what Seraphine said. I still don't understand what it actually means."
"It means," Azazel continues, "that you could end this war before it begins. You could create a new balance—one that doesn't require constant conflict between realms."
I shake my head, the weight of her words making me dizzy. "That's—that's insane. I'm just one person. One very confused, very tired person who didn't ask for any of this."
"Yet here you are." Her hand reaches out, hovering just above the gauntlet without touching it. "Bonded to one of the most powerful demonic artifacts in existence. Connected to me through blood. And now..." her gaze shifts to Caleif, "...linked to a being touched directly by The Creator. It's not coincidence, Kamen. It's convergence."
I look to Caleif, seeking something—reassurance, denial, anything that might make sense of this madness. Her golden-flecked eyes meet mine, troubled but resolute.
"She's not lying," Caleif says softly. "Not about this. I've seen glimpses of it in my visions—what you might become, what you might do."
"And?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "What happens in these visions?"
She hesitates, then says, "It changes. Sometimes you unite the realms. Sometimes you destroy them all. The path isn't fixed yet."
Great. No pressure or anything.
I turn back to Azazel, trying to focus on immediate concerns rather than cosmic destinies. "You said the Eradicators are coming. How many? When?"
"Samael leads the main host—thousands strong. They'll reach this plane within three days." Her expression darkens. "But that's not the worst of it. He's found a way to breach the barriers between realms all at once. When he attacks, it won't just be here—it will be everywhere. Every place where demons and humans coexist."
"Global annihilation," Roshan says, speaking for the first time since Azazel's arrival. "That's what you're describing."
She inclines her head. "Precisely. The Final Cleansing, as Samael calls it. A purge of everything he deems corrupted."
"Which is pretty much everything except pure angels," Elara mutters.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process the scale of the threat. "And your exiles? How many do you have?"
"A few hundred," Azazel admits. "Powerful, but not enough to stand against the full host. That's why I'm here. We need to combine forces—my exiles, Valen's academy, Roshan's hunters. And you, Kamen. Especially you."
"To do what, exactly?" I ask, though I'm afraid I already know the answer.
"To become what you're meant to be," she says simply. "A Nexus Being, fully manifested. Before Samael arrives."
The room falls silent as everyone absorbs her words. I feel the weight of their gazes—Caleif's concern, Elara's wariness, Roshan's calculation, Valen's academic interest, Seraphine's ancient patience, and Azazel's... hunger? Expectation? I can't quite name what I see in those silver-shadow eyes.
"And if I refuse?" I ask, though the question feels hollow even as I voice it.
Azazel's perfect features soften with what might be genuine sympathy. "Then we fight anyway, and we die anyway. The only difference is whether we take Samael and his Eradicators with us."
I close my eyes, feeling the gauntlet pulse against my skin—a reminder of the power I still barely understand. Estingoth's presence hovers at the edge of my consciousness, watchful but silent, letting me make this choice on my own.
When I open my eyes again, I've made my decision. Not because I want this cosmic destiny, this terrifying power. But because the alternatives are worse.
"Tell me what I need to do," I say, meeting Azazel's gaze directly. "How do I become this... Nexus Being?"
Her smile is radiant, triumphant. "You need to complete the integration—not just with Estingoth, but with the angelic essence I gave you through the blood bond. And..." she glances at Caleif, "...with the divine spark that resides in her."
"What?" I step back, instinctively moving closer to Caleif. "No. I'm not doing anything that puts her at risk."
"It's not about risk," Azazel explains, her patience clearly strained. "It's about connection. The three energies—demonic, angelic, divine—must be balanced within you. Currently, they exist in separate compartments. They need to flow together."
"And how exactly do we make that happen?" I ask, skepticism heavy in my voice.
It's Seraphine who answers, those opal eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. "Through the Triad Ritual. A joining of essences, performed at a place where the barriers between realms are already thin."
"I know of such a place," Valen interjects. "The Convergence—a natural nexus point beneath the sanctuary. Few know of its existence."
"Perfect," Azazel says, her silver-shadow eyes alight with eagerness. "We can begin preparations immediately."
"Hold on," I raise my hands, trying to slow this runaway train. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. I need to know exactly what this ritual involves. What happens to Caleif? What happens to me?"
Azazel and Seraphine exchange a glance, some unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, Seraphine speaks.
"The ritual will create a permanent bond between you three, Caleif will stay as she is… But her angelic 'power' will reside in you mixing with your current power with Estingoth."
I stare at Seraphine, her words echoing in my mind like a death sentence. "Permanent bond? What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Azazel says, stepping closer with that predatory grace of hers, "that you'll be connected to both of us in ways that transcend mere physical proximity. Our essences will be intertwined with yours, creating a trinity of power that—"
"That what?" I interrupt, my voice rising. "That turns me into some kind of cosmic puppet with two strings?"
The gauntlet flares against my skin, responding to my agitation. I can feel Estingoth stirring uneasily in my mind, his ancient consciousness recoiling from the implications.
"This is madness," he rumbles silently. "The risk—"
"I know the risk," I snap back, both aloud and in my thoughts. Everyone in the room exchanges glances, probably thinking I'm losing it. Maybe I am.
Caleif's hand finds mine, her golden warmth flowing into me through the contact. "Kamen," she says softly, "what are you thinking?"
I look at her—really look at her. The woman who died for me, who was brought back by divine intervention, who's been my anchor through all this chaos. The idea of binding her to me permanently, of potentially putting her in danger again...
"I'm thinking this sounds like a really elaborate way to get us all killed," I say, my voice flat. "And I'm thinking I've heard enough mystical bullshit for one day."
Azazel's perfect features tighten with frustration. "Kamen, you don't understand the urgency—"
"No, you don't understand." I turn to face her fully, letting her see the anger building in my eyes. "Every time someone like you shows up in my life, things get worse. The Purifier nearly killed everyone I care about. Estingoth almost consumed me completely. And now you want me to undergo some ritual that will permanently bind me to two of the most dangerous beings I've ever met?"
"I'm not dangerous to you," Caleif protests, hurt flickering across her features.
I soften my voice when I look at her. "You're not dangerous because you choose not to be. But this ritual—we don't know what it might do to you. To us."
"The boy shows wisdom," Valen interjects, his burning gaze fixed on Azazel and Seraphine. "These ancient rituals often have... unexpected consequences."
"Unexpected consequences?" I laugh bitterly. "That's putting it mildly. Last time I trusted someone's mystical solution, I ended up with a demon warlord sharing my brain and veins that look like a road map to hell."
Seraphine steps forward, her opal eyes shifting to a deep purple. "The alternative is certain death, Kamen. For all of us."
"Maybe," I acknowledge. "But at least we'd die as ourselves, not as some cosmic experiment gone wrong."
The silence that follows is deafening. I can feel the weight of their expectations, their desperation, pressing down on me like a physical force. But I also feel something else—a growing certainty that I'm right to be suspicious.
"There's something you're not telling me," I say, my gaze moving between Azazel and Seraphine. "Both of you. What happens if this ritual goes wrong? What's the worst-case scenario?"
Another glance passes between them, and I know I've hit on something they'd rather not discuss.
"Speak," I command, and there's something in my voice that makes even Azazel flinch slightly. The authority in it surprises me—when did I start sounding like that?
"If the integration fails," Seraphine says carefully, "the conflicting energies could tear you apart from the inside. Your consciousness would be scattered across multiple planes of existence."
"And if it succeeds but goes too far?" I press.
"You could become something beyond our ability to control or reason with," Azazel admits reluctantly. "A being of pure power, driven by instinct rather than intellect."
I nod slowly, feeling a strange calm settle over me. "So either I die horribly, or I become a cosmic monster. Those are my options."
"There is a third possibility," Caleif says quietly. "The ritual could work exactly as intended. You could become powerful enough to stop the Eradicators without losing yourself in the process."
"And what are the odds of that?" I ask.
The silence stretches on, and I have my answer.
"Fantastic," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Just fantastic."
I turn away from them all, walking to the edge of the chamber where ancient symbols are carved into the stone walls. The gauntlet pulses steadily against my skin, its crimson light casting dancing shadows on the carved surface.
"What do you think?" I ask Estingoth silently.
"I think," he replies slowly, "that we are being asked to gamble everything on a single throw of the dice. And I think the odds are not in our favor."
"But?"
"But I also think we may have no choice. The Eradicators will not show mercy, Kamen. If they succeed, everything we've fought for dies with us."
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of impossible decisions. When I open them again, I find Elara standing beside me, her green eyes reflecting the gauntlet's glow.
"For what it's worth," she says quietly, "I think you're right to be cautious. But I also think you're the only one who can make this choice."
"Some choice," I reply bitterly. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."
"Welcome to leadership," she says with a wry smile. "It sucks, doesn't it?"
Despite everything, I find myself smiling back. "Yeah, it really does."
I turn back to the group, my decision crystallizing with each step. "I'll do it," I say, and I see relief flood through their faces. "But," I hold up a hand, "I want guarantees. Safeguards. If this thing starts to go wrong, I want a way out."
"There is no way out," Seraphine says bluntly. "Once the ritual begins, it must be completed or the backlash will destroy all three of you."
"Then we'd better make sure it doesn't go wrong," I reply grimly. "When do we start?"
"Now," Azazel says, her silver-shadow eyes gleaming with anticipation. "The Convergence is strongest during the liminal hours—between night and dawn. We have perhaps six hours before the window closes."
Six hours. Six hours to prepare for a ritual that could either save us all or turn me into something that shouldn't exist.
I look at Caleif, seeing my own fears reflected in her golden-flecked eyes. "Are you sure about this?" I ask her. "Really sure?"
She nods, her hand finding mine again. "I trust you, Kamen. And I trust us. Whatever happens, we'll face it together."
"Together," I repeat, the word carrying more weight than it ever has before. "Alright then. Let's go save the world."
As we prepare to descend into the depths of the sanctuary, toward whatever the Convergence holds, I can't shake the feeling that I'm walking toward my own transformation—or my own destruction.
As Valen leads us deeper into the sanctuary, the air grows heavier, charged with an energy that makes the dark veins beneath my skin pulse in time with my heartbeat. The gauntlet's crimson glow casts eerie shadows along the narrow stone staircase spiraling downward into darkness.
"The Convergence has existed since before the sanctuary was built," Valen explains, his voice echoing off the ancient walls. "A natural thinning of barriers between realms that our ancestors discovered and built around."
"Great," I mutter. "So we're heading to a place where reality is already unstable, to perform a ritual that might tear me apart from the inside. What could possibly go wrong?"
Caleif squeezes my hand, her golden aura providing the only warmth in this descent. "Focus on what could go right," she whispers. "We need your confidence now more than ever."
I try to smile at her, but it feels more like a grimace. The truth is, I'm terrified. Not just of what the ritual might do to me, but of what I might become if it succeeds. A Nexus Being. A reality-warper. Something beyond human or demon.
"How much farther?" Elara asks from behind us, her voice tight with tension. She insisted on coming, despite Azazel's objections. Said someone needed to represent "the sane human perspective" in all this. I'm grateful for her presence—a reminder of the world I'm supposedly trying to save.
"We approach the threshold," Valen replies cryptically. "You'll know when we've arrived."
He's not wrong. The staircase suddenly opens into a vast circular chamber that steals my breath away. The ceiling arches impossibly high, lost in shadows despite the strange, shifting light that fills the space. And that light—it comes from everywhere and nowhere, rippling like water across walls inscribed with symbols I've never seen before.
But it's what occupies the center of the chamber that truly captures my attention. A perfect circle of obsidian stone, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, its surface so polished it reflects the shifting lights like a dark mirror. At its center stands a triangular altar of the same material, each side inscribed with different markings—one set glowing crimson, one silver, one gold.
"The Convergence," Seraphine breathes, her opal eyes wide with what might be awe or hunger. "More perfect than the legends described."
Azazel moves forward, her silver-white hair seeming to catch and amplify the strange light. "The energies here are... exquisite. The ritual will be more powerful than I dared hope."
Their enthusiasm does nothing to calm my nerves. If anything, it makes the knot in my stomach tighten further. I feel Estingoth stir within my mind, his ancient consciousness pressing closer to the surface.
"This place..." he murmurs silently. "It resonates with power older than even my memories. Be wary, Kamen. Old powers have old prices."
"Now he tells me," I mutter, earning a questioning glance from Caleif.
"Estingoth?" she asks softly.
I nod. "He's not loving this place either."
Roshan, who has been quietly observing until now, steps forward. "Perhaps we should discuss exactly what this ritual entails before proceeding further."
"Yes," I agree quickly. "Details would be nice. Preferably the non-lethal kind."
Azazel and Seraphine exchange another of those looks that makes my skin crawl—like they're having an entire conversation I'm not privy to.
"The ritual is simple in concept," Seraphine begins, her melodic voice echoing strangely in the chamber. "The three of you—" she gestures to me, Caleif, and Azazel, "—will position yourselves at the points of the triangle. The ritual will create channels between you, allowing your essences to flow together through Kamen."
"And by 'essences,' you mean..." I prompt.
"Your core energies," Azazel explains. "The fundamental forces that make you what you are. My angelic nature, Caleif's divine resurrection power, and your own hybrid essence combined with Estingoth's demonic force."
"These energies will merge within you," Seraphine continues, "transforming you into a being capable of channeling all three simultaneously—a true Nexus Being."
"And the risks?" Elara interjects sharply. "Besides the whole 'torn apart from the inside' thing you mentioned earlier."
Seraphine's opal eyes narrow slightly. "The primary risk is imbalance. If one energy overwhelms the others during the merging, the resulting being will be... skewed toward that nature."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," Azazel says impatiently, "that if my angelic essence dominates, Kamen becomes something closer to an angel than a human or demon. If Caleif's divine spark overwhelms, he becomes a vessel of The Creator's will. And if Estingoth's demonic nature prevails..."
"I become a monster," I finish flatly. "Great options all around."
"The key is balance," Seraphine insists. "Equal parts of each essence, perfectly harmonized. That's what will create a true Nexus Being—one capable of standing between realms rather than being claimed by any single one."
I look at Caleif, searching her face for any sign of doubt or fear. Instead, I find only determination and something else—a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart ache.
"I trust you," she says simply. "Whatever happens, I know you'll find that balance."
Her faith in me is both comforting and terrifying. What if I fail her? What if I become something that can't recognize her anymore, can't love her?
Because I do love her. That realization hits me with sudden clarity, cutting through the fear and uncertainty. I love her, and I'll be damned if I let some cosmic ritual take that away from me.
"How do we begin?" I ask, my voice steadier than I expected.
Valen steps forward, his burning gaze solemn. "First, preparations. The ritual requires each participant to be purified according to their nature."
"Purified?" I echo skeptically.
"For you, it means meditation at the center of the obsidian circle, allowing your conflicting natures to settle into temporary harmony before the ritual begins," he explains. "For Azazel and Caleif, it means similar preparations at their respective points of the triangle."
"And then?"
"Then we begin the chanting," Seraphine says. "Words of power that will open the channels between you. Once opened, the flow of essence cannot be stopped until completion. You must ride the current wherever it takes you."
"That's reassuring," I mutter.
"One more thing," Azazel adds, her silver-shadow eyes fixed on me. "During the ritual, you will experience... visions. Memories not your own. Futures that may or may not come to pass. Do not become lost in them. Remember who you are, what anchors you to yourself."
I nod, though the warning sends fresh waves of apprehension through me. "How long do we have to prepare?"
"An hour," Valen says. "No more. The Convergence's energies are already aligning for the ritual. We must use this window or wait another full cycle."
"And we don't have another cycle to spare," Roshan adds grimly. "Not with the Eradicators approaching."
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. "Alright. Let's do this."
As the others begin preparing the chamber, setting up arcane symbols and placing strange artifacts around the obsidian circle, Elara pulls me aside.
"You don't have to do this," she says in a low voice. "We can find another way to fight the Eradicators."
I appreciate her concern, but we both know she's wrong. "There is no other way," I reply quietly. "Not in the time we have."
Her green eyes search mine, worry evident in their depths. "Just... don't lose yourself in there, okay? Remember who you're fighting for."
I glance toward Caleif, who's speaking with Valen at the edge of the chamber. "I won't forget."
"Good." She squeezes my arm briefly. "Because if you turn into some cosmic horror, I'm going to be really pissed about having to put you down."
I bark a surprised laugh. "Always the optimist."
"Always the realist," she corrects with a hint of a smile. "Now go meditate or whatever. I'll be right here, keeping an eye on our mysterious benefactors."
Her skepticism toward Azazel and Seraphine is oddly comforting. At least someone's watching for the double-cross I keep expecting.
I make my way to the center of the obsidian circle, feeling the strange energy of the place intensify with each step. The stone is cool beneath me as I sit cross-legged at the exact center, the gauntlet resting on my knee.
"Any advice?" I ask Estingoth silently.
"Empty your mind," he replies after a moment's consideration. "Let the conflicting energies within you settle like oil on water—separate but touching. Do not try to force harmony; simply allow it to emerge naturally."
I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing as I've practiced during training sessions with Valen. In, out. In, out. Gradually, I become aware of the different energies flowing through me—the crimson pulse of Estingoth's demonic power, the silver thread of Azazel's angelic blood, the warm golden spark that connects me to Caleif.
They swirl within me like currents in a whirlpool, sometimes clashing, sometimes flowing alongside each other. I don't try to control them, just observe their patterns, their rhythms. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they begin to settle into a more harmonious arrangement—still separate, but no longer fighting for dominance.
I don't know how long I sit there, lost in this internal landscape. Time seems to stretch and compress strangely in the Convergence. When I finally open my eyes, the chamber has been transformed. Dozens of candles now ring the obsidian circle, their flames burning in impossible colors—crimson, silver, gold. The air is thick with incense that makes my head swim.
Azazel and Caleif have taken their positions at two points of the triangular altar, leaving the third empty, waiting for me. Both glow with their respective energies—Azazel's cold silver light, Caleif's warm golden radiance.
"It's time," Valen announces, his voice resonating strangely in the charged atmosphere.
I rise to my feet, feeling oddly calm despite everything. The meditation has centered me in ways I didn't expect. As I walk toward the empty point of the triangle, I catch Elara's eye. She gives me a nod—part encouragement, part warning.
Taking my position completes some invisible circuit. The moment I stand at my point of the triangle, the obsidian beneath our feet begins to glow with veins of light that match our respective auras—crimson beneath me, silver beneath Azazel, gold beneath Caleif. These veins spread outward, connecting us in a web of pulsing energy.
"The channels are forming," Seraphine says from somewhere beyond the circle. "Begin the invocation."
Valen's voice rises in a language I've never heard before—guttural yet melodic, ancient beyond imagining. The symbols carved into the altar begin to glow, pulsing in time with the veins of light connecting us.
I feel it immediately—a tugging sensation deep within my chest, as if invisible hands are reaching inside me to grasp something essential. My breath catches as the first tendrils of Azazel's essence flow toward me, cold and bright like liquid starlight. At the same time, Caleif's golden warmth approaches from the other direction.
"Don't fight it," Azazel calls over the rising hum of energy. "Let us in, Kamen."
Easy for her to say. Every instinct screams against this invasion, this merging of souls that feels fundamentally wrong. The gauntlet flares against my skin, Estingoth's presence surging forward protectively.
"We must yield," he urges within my mind. "Resistance will only make this more painful."
I close my eyes, forcing myself to relax, to open whatever metaphysical doors exist within me. The moment I do, both essences rush in like floodwaters breaking through a dam.
Pain—white-hot and all-consuming—rips through me. I hear someone screaming and realize distantly that it's me. My body arches backward, suspended in midair by forces I can't comprehend. The veins of light beneath us flare blindingly bright, and then—
I'm somewhere else. Somewhere impossible.
I stand on a vast plain of swirling mist, neither solid nor gaseous, stretching endlessly in all directions. Above me, the sky—if it can be called that—pulses with colors that have no names in human language.
"The Nexus," a voice says behind me. I turn to find Estingoth standing there—not as a presence in my mind, but as a physical being. His form is massive, obsidian-skinned, with eyes like burning coals and armor that seems part of his very flesh. "The space between realms."
"Am I dead?" I ask, my voice echoing strangely.
He shakes his head. "No. But you are... between. The ritual has separated your consciousness from your physical form temporarily."
"Where are Caleif and Azazel?"
"Coming," he replies, looking past me. "Their essences are still flowing into your physical body. They will join us here when enough has transferred."
As if summoned by his words, two figures materialize from the mist. Caleif appears first, her true form more evident here—her ember-red hair actually burning, her eyes pools of golden fire. She's beautiful and terrifying, a being of pure passion and protective rage.
Azazel follows, her angelic nature impossible to miss in this place. Six wings of silver light extend from her back, and her entire body glows with cold radiance. Her eyes, silver with streaks of shadow, fix on me with that same hunger I've always sensed from her.
"Welcome to the Nexus, Kamen," she says, her voice carrying harmonics impossible in the physical world. "Few mortals have ever witnessed this place."
"Why are we here?" I ask, looking between them. "I thought the ritual was supposed to merge our essences."
"It is," Caleif explains, moving closer. Her warmth is even more intense here, a comforting counterpoint to Azazel's chill. "But first, we must understand each other completely. See each other's truths."
"Truths?"
"Memories," Estingoth clarifies. "Motivations. The core of what makes each of us who we are."
Before I can respond, the mist around us shifts, coalescing into images—scenes from Estingoth's past. I see him as he once was, a warrior fighting for justice, for protection of the weak. I feel his rage when those he swore to defend were slaughtered by angelic forces who saw only corruption where he saw people worth saving.
The scene shifts again, showing Azazel's fall from grace—not a rebellion against divine authority as I'd assumed, but a deliberate choice to stand between realms, to seek balance rather than blind obedience. Her exile wasn't punishment but sacrifice, a necessary step in a plan centuries in the making.
Then Caleif's memories surround us—her life before meeting me, her growing understanding of her own purpose, her death at the Purifier's hands. I feel her soul's journey after death, The Creator's touch as she was returned to life with new purpose, new power.
And finally, my own life unfolds before us all—my human existence shattered by supernatural intrusion, my struggle to understand what I was becoming, my growing feelings for Caleif, my fear and reluctance to accept this cosmic role.
"Now we see each other truly," Azazel says as the memories fade back into mist. "Now we can become one."
"Wait," I hold up my hands. "I still don't understand why this is happening. Why me? Why now?"
"Because the balance has shifted too far," Estingoth answers, his burning gaze solemn. "The separation of realms was never meant to be permanent—only a temporary measure until the wounds of the First War healed."
"First War?" I repeat, confusion mounting.
"Between The Creator and The Void," Azazel explains. "Before humans, before angels, before demons. A conflict that shaped reality itself."
"The separation of realms was the compromise," Caleif continues. "A way to prevent total destruction. But over time, the barriers became too rigid, too absolute. The natural flow between realms ceased."
"And that's... bad?" I ask, trying to grasp concepts clearly beyond human understanding.
"It's unsustainable," Estingoth says. "The realms need each other—humans need the passion and power of demons, demons need the creativity and adaptability of humans, angels need both to remind them of why they exist at all."
"The Eradicators are a symptom of the imbalance," Azazel adds. "Angels who have forgotten their purpose, who see only corruption where they should see necessary complexity."
I shake my head, overwhelmed by the cosmic scale of what they're describing. "And I'm supposed to fix this? One person against the momentum of... what, all of creation?"
"Not alone," Caleif says, taking my hand. Her touch sends waves of golden warmth through me. "Together. All of us, united in purpose."
"A Nexus Being is more than just power," Azazel explains, moving to my other side. "It's a focal point where reality can be reshaped, where the barriers between realms can be made permeable again without collapsing entirely."
"The ritual," I realize suddenly. "It's not just about giving me the power to fight the Eradicators. It's about creating something that can fundamentally change how the realms interact."
All three nod, and I feel the weight of what they're asking settle over me like a physical burden. This isn't just about survival anymore—it's about reshaping the very foundations of existence.
"I never asked for this," I whisper, the enormity of it threatening to crush me.
"Few who change worlds ever do," Estingoth replies, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "But you have something most would-be saviors lack."
"What's that?"
"Us," Caleif says simply. "You won't carry this burden alone, Kamen. Our essences will be with you, guiding you, supporting you."
"And if I fail? If I can't maintain the balance you're talking about?"
Azazel's silver-shadow eyes meet mine directly. "Then reality as we know it ends. The Eradicators will tear down the barriers by force, and chaos will consume everything."
"No pressure," I mutter, earning a small smile from Caleif.
The mist around us begins to pulse with increasing urgency, the colors overhead shifting faster.
"The ritual approaches its climax," Estingoth warns. "We must complete the merging now, or the connection will collapse."
"What do I do?" I ask, feeling strangely calm despite everything.
"Open yourself completely," Azazel instructs. "Let go of separation, of boundaries. Become the vessel for all three essences."
"And remember who you are," Caleif adds urgently. "Hold onto your core self, or the merging will consume your identity entirely."
I close my eyes, focusing on that core self she mentioned. Who am I, stripped of all the chaos that's entered my life? What remains when everything else is peeled away?
The answer comes with surprising clarity: I am the one who protects. Not because of power or destiny, but because I choose to stand between those I care about and whatever threatens them. That's who I've always been, even before the gauntlet, before Estingoth, before all of this.
With that anchor firmly in place, I open myself completely. The essences of all three beings flow into me—Estingoth's crimson power, Azazel's silver light, Caleif's golden warmth. They swirl together, no longer separate currents but a single river of energy that fills me completely.
Pain returns, sharper than before, as my consciousness struggles to contain what was never meant to exist in one vessel. I feel myself stretching, changing, becoming something both more and less than human.
And then—
I'm back in the Convergence chamber, still standing at my point of the triangle. But everything has changed. I can see the energy flowing through the room, can perceive the thinning barriers between realms that give this place its power. More than that, I can feel Estingoth, Azazel, and Caleif within me—not as separate entities, but as aspects of a greater whole.
"It worked," Seraphine breathes, her opal eyes wide with wonder. "The Nexus Being has manifested."
I look down at my body, expecting some dramatic transformation. Instead, I appear mostly unchanged—still my own form, though the dark veins have spread further, creating intricate patterns across my skin that pulse with tricolored light: crimson, silver, and gold intertwined.
"How do you feel?" Elara asks cautiously, her hand hovering near her weapons.
"Different," I reply, my voice resonating strangely in the chamber. "More... connected. To everything."
I can sense the barriers between realms now, can feel how they've hardened over centuries, becoming rigid where they should be permeable. And I can sense something else—a vast angelic host approaching, led by a presence that burns with cold fire and absolute conviction.
"Samael," I whisper, the name coming to me through Azazel's memories. "He's coming. Sooner than we thought."
"How soon?" Roshan demands, stepping forward.
I close my eyes, extending my newly enhanced senses. "Hours, not days. His forces have breached the outer barriers already."
"Then we have no time to lose," Valen says grimly. "Can you fight in this form? Can you access the full power of the Nexus?"
I flex my hand, watching as energy dances across my skin—no longer just the gauntlet's crimson glow, but a harmonious blend of all three essences. "I think so. But I need to understand what I can do first. How to control it."
The power surging through me is unlike anything I've experienced before. It's not just raw strength—it's awareness, connection, perception on a level that makes my head spin. I can feel the sanctuary around us like it's an extension of my own body, can sense every person within its walls as points of light in my consciousness.
And beyond that, I can feel the approaching storm. Samael's forces tear through the barriers between realms like claws through paper, leaving ragged wounds in reality itself.
"We don't have time for a test run," Roshan says, his scarred face grim in the shifting light. "The Eradicators will be here within hours."
"Then we prepare," I reply, my voice carrying harmonics I've never heard before—echoes of Estingoth's rumble, Azazel's crystalline tones, Caleif's warm cadence. "Gather everyone who can fight. Set up defensive positions."
I turn to Valen, whose burning eyes study me with academic fascination. "Can the sanctuary be sealed? Made impenetrable to angelic forces?"
He shakes his head slowly. "Not against a host of that magnitude. The wards will slow them, but eventually they will breach our defenses."
"Then we don't fight defensively," I decide, the strategy forming in my mind with surprising clarity. "We meet them before they reach the sanctuary. On ground of our choosing."
"And where would that be?" Elara asks, her skepticism evident.
I close my eyes, extending my senses outward. Through the merged essences within me, I can perceive the landscape surrounding the sanctuary in ways impossible before. There—a natural formation in the mountains, a valley where the barriers between realms are already thin.
"The Echoing Valley," I say, the name coming to me through Valen's memories, now accessible through our connection. "Three miles east. The terrain will funnel their forces, and the thinned barriers will amplify my abilities."
Valen's eyes widen. "How did you—" He stops himself. "Of course. The merged essences give you access to our knowledge."
"Not all of it," I clarify, feeling the boundaries of this new awareness. "Just fragments, impressions. But enough."
My gaze shifts to Seraphine, whose opal eyes haven't left me since the ritual completed. I can sense her fascination, her calculation—and something else, something she's keeping carefully hidden.
"You're not telling us everything," I say, the words emerging before I can stop them. "About what I've become. About what happens next."
A flicker of surprise crosses her perfect features. "Your perceptiveness is... unexpected. The merging is more complete than I anticipated."
"What aren't you telling us?" Elara demands, her hand moving to her weapon.
Seraphine sighs, those opal eyes shifting to deep violet. "The Nexus Being is not just a weapon against the Eradicators. It's a catalyst for change that cannot be undone. Once Kamen uses his full power, the barriers between realms will never be the same. For better or worse, he will reshape reality itself."
"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning before?" I ask, anger flaring within me. The energy across my skin pulses brighter in response, making everyone step back.
"Would you have agreed to the ritual if you knew?" she counters.
"Probably not," I admit. "But that should have been my choice to make."
"There was no choice," she says simply. "Without the Nexus Being, Samael's forces would destroy everything. At least this way, there's a chance for something new to emerge from the ashes."
I want to argue further, but I can feel time slipping away like sand through my fingers. The Eradicators draw closer with each passing moment.
"We'll discuss your omissions later," I tell her, turning back to the others. "Right now, we need to move. Prepare everyone for battle at the Echoing Valley. We have three hours at most."
As they hurry to comply, I remain in the center of the Convergence, trying to acclimate to what I've become. Inside me, the three essences have settled into an uneasy harmony—distinct yet interconnected, like instruments in an orchestra playing the same piece.
"This is... disorienting," I mutter to myself.
"You're adjusting remarkably well," Caleif's voice emerges from within me, startling me so badly I nearly fall over. "Sorry! I should have warned you we can still communicate directly."
"That's going to take some getting used to," I reply, unsure if I should speak aloud or just think the words. Both seem to work.
"The transition is always difficult," Estingoth's voice rumbles through my consciousness. "But time is a luxury we cannot afford."
"He's right," Azazel adds, her presence colder but no less integrated. "You need to test your abilities before facing Samael. Start with something simple—try manipulating the energy around you."
I focus on the swirling light that fills the Convergence chamber, reaching out with my mind to touch it. To my surprise, it responds immediately, condensing into a sphere that hovers above my palm.
"Good," Estingoth approves. "Now shape it. Give it purpose."
I concentrate, imagining the energy hardening into a shield. The sphere flattens and expands, forming a disc of shimmering power that pulses with tricolored light.
"Impressive control," Azazel observes. "Now try something more complex. Reach beyond the physical."
I let the shield dissolve back into ambient energy and close my eyes. Stretching my awareness outward, I can feel the barriers between realms—not just as abstract concepts, but as tangible membranes that can be touched, manipulated.
Cautiously, I press against one such barrier, feeling it yield slightly under my influence. Through the thinned membrane, I catch glimpses of the demonic realm—a landscape of stark beauty and terrible power, so different from human conceptions of hell.
"Careful," Caleif warns. "Don't tear it completely. Just observe for now."
I withdraw my influence, letting the barrier resettle. "I can see them—the realms. All of them, layered like pages in a book."
"That's the essence of what you are," Estingoth explains. "A being who exists at the intersection of realms, who can move between them and eventually reshape how they interact."
"Eventually," I repeat. "But not yet?"
"Your power is still stabilizing," Azazel replies. "Using it to its full extent now would be... unpredictable."
"But we don't have a choice, do we?" I open my eyes, looking around the empty chamber. "Samael is coming. The Eradicators won't wait for me to finish my cosmic puberty."
A ripple of amusement flows through the merged essences—Caleif's warm humor most prominent.
"No, they won't," she agrees. "But you don't need to reshape reality to defeat them. Just to hold the line."
I nod, decision made. "Then let's go hold the line."
I make my way up from the Convergence, each step feeling strangely light. My body moves with newfound grace, as if the merged essences have optimized even my physical form. When I emerge into the sanctuary's main hall, I find organized chaos—everyone preparing for the coming battle.
Elara approaches as soon as she spots me, her eyes widening slightly at whatever changes she sees in my appearance. "There you are. Roshan's mobilizing everyone who can fight. Valen's opened portals to the valley."
"Good." I look around at the preparations. "Any word from Azazel's exiles?"
"They're already at the valley, setting up defensive positions." She studies my face. "You look... different."
"I feel different," I admit. "Like I'm more than myself now, but also still me. It's hard to explain."
She nods, not pressing for details she knows I can barely articulate. "Just make sure you stay you. We need Kamen Driscol out there, not some cosmic abstraction."
"I'll do my best," I promise, touched by her concern.
We move through the sanctuary, gathering the last of our forces. When we step through Valen's portal into the Echoing Valley, the scale of what we're facing hits me like a physical blow.
The valley stretches before us, a natural fortress of steep cliffs and narrow passages. At its center, a wide bowl-shaped depression where our forces have gathered—demon students and faculty from the academy, Roshan's remaining hunters, Azazel's exiled angels with their tattered wings and burning eyes.
All told, perhaps five hundred defenders against what my enhanced senses tell me is an approaching force of thousands.
"This is suicide," Elara mutters beside me, clearly doing the same math.
"Not necessarily," I reply, feeling the thinned barriers around us. "The valley amplifies power. And they'll be forced to funnel through those narrow passes, negating their numerical advantage."
"Still bad odds," she observes.
"When aren't they?" I manage a grim smile. "Besides, we have a secret weapon."
"You," she says flatly. "Our entire strategy hinges on you. No pressure or anything."
Before I can respond, the air above us shimmers and tears open. A massive portal forms, spilling golden light that hurts to look at directly. Through it, I catch my first glimpse of Samael—a figure of blinding radiance, surrounded by ranks of angels in gleaming armor.
"The Eradicators," Estingoth's voice resonates within me. "Earlier than expected."
I step forward, letting the merged essences flow more freely through me. Power ripples across my skin, the tricolored light growing brighter as I prepare to face what's coming.
"Everyone to positions!" Roshan shouts, his voice carrying across the valley. "First wave, prepare to engage!"
Our forces move with practiced efficiency, forming defensive lines where the valley narrows. Azazel's exiles take to the air, their tattered wings still capable of flight, positioning themselves to counter the aerial advantage of Samael's forces.
Through the portal, the first wave of Eradicators descends—angels whose beauty is marred by the cold hatred in their eyes. Each carries weapons of pure celestial energy, designed to destroy anything deemed impure.
"Remember," I say to the essences within me, "we're fighting to protect, not just to destroy. Balance, not dominance."
"We remember," Caleif assures me, her warmth flowing through our connection.
As the Eradicators touch down at the far end of the valley, a figure steps forward from their ranks—tall, impossibly perfect, with six wings of pure golden light folded against his back. Samael.