The door shut behind him.
A deep, reverent silence followed.
Mist curled at Indra's feet, cold but not unpleasant, like walking through the breath of the stars. He stood alone within the Infinity Void—a space that made no sense. It stretched forever in every direction, yet felt enclosed. Endless, yet still. Around him, pillars of cloud drifted through a realm where light floated instead of shining. The ground beneath his feet shimmered like glass, but when he stepped forward, it rippled gently—water, or something like it, impossibly smooth and glowing with a silvery-blue hue.
There was no wind, no sky, no horizon. Just a pearl-toned ceiling hung with glittering haze, like the inside of some ancient jewel lit by dying suns. The space felt alive. Ancient. Sacred.
"All this fits inside a room?" Indra murmured, his voice swallowed by the calm.
Behind him, the voice answered.
"The training will start as soon as you're ready."
Indra turned to face Sentry—the humanoid construct who had guided him this far. This one was unlike the stiff, clunky guardians stationed at headquarters. Its armor was sleek and elegant, plated with a gold-trimmed finish that caught the ambient light like sunlight off a blade. Its frame was tall, proportioned like a human, but moved with the grace of a spirit.
Even its voice—though still synthetic—carried an unsettling humanity.
"You don't sound as robotic as the others," Indra noted, curiosity creeping into his tone. "So… where do we start?"
"Sit," Sentry replied, gesturing to the radiant floor. "It's imperative I explain to you your current situation, and the laws that govern all Velari."
Indra raised an eyebrow but complied, lowering himself until he sat cross-legged on the glowing surface. The moment he made contact, a warm energy bloomed through him. Not heat. Not magic. Something older than either. It filled him from the spine out—his nerves calmed, his chest unknotted. Peace.
"Whoa… is that the water?" he asked.
"It is," Sentry confirmed. "This void is stabilized by divine energy. That energy flows through every inch of the floor beneath you. It cannot be taken, only received."
"I could sit here all day," Indra said, eyes half-lidded. "So… what situation are we talking about?"
Sentry moved to stand directly in front of him. Its head tilted slightly, almost like it was considering how much to say, and how fast.
Then it spoke.
"Before you understand your place, you must first understand the beginning."
A pulse spread outward from Sentry's chest—a soft thrum of light. In its wake, the world around them shifted. The air thickened. Threads of light gathered into forms—hazy, dreamlike images suspended midair. As if memories were being carved into mist.
Sentry's voice lowered, each word deliberate.
"Long ago, before time was counted, God created the heavens and the earth. He shaped the stars and hung them with meaning. He carved the mountains, filled the seas, painted the skies. And on the earth… He breathed life."
Indra watched the illusions unfold—vast celestial bodies spiraling into being, lands forming, oceans rising. Then—humans. Men and women, children and elders, laughing, building, singing, weeping. The full range of emotion.
"Beings made to live, to love, to prosper. He called them His children. And to protect them… He created one."
A new figure emerged—towering, robed in brilliance, with a golden blade across his back and eyes that seemed to understand every sorrow that hadn't yet happened.
"Joseph," Sentry said, and even speaking the name seemed to echo with reverence. "Protector of the heavens. The first of the divine."
The vision lingered on Joseph for a long moment—his stance serene, his aura shining like sunlight off snow.
"All the heavens rejoiced," Sentry continued. "All but one."
The image darkened. A second figure appeared—cloaked in power, his form regal but sharp-edged. There was no light behind his eyes. Only ambition.
"Tybbris."
Indra leaned forward, studying the figure.
"Tybbris did not wish to serve," Sentry said. "He wished to rule. He believed the humans should be beneath him—tools to control, not lives to protect. And he was not alone. Some of the divine shared his desire."
The scene shifted—Tybbris stood tall before a small group, hands raised as he spoke to them. Their expressions were mixed—some wary, others eager.
"To enact his vision, Tybbris committed the unthinkable. He touched Joseph… with corruption."
Indra's breath caught as Joseph's form flickered. A black sigil appeared on his chest—dark and jagged, pulsing with a sick energy.
"The first corrupted mark," Sentry said. "Tybbris believed he could twist Joseph's heart. And he did… but not for long."
Joseph's body shattered in the vision, light exploding outward as a second figure emerged from his fractured soul. Identical in form—but darker. Harsher. Smiling with cruelty.
"Hallel," Indra whispered.
"Yes," Sentry replied. "The evil born from Joseph's pain. God intervened. He separated the corruption from Joseph's essence, purging him of darkness. But it had already become something else. Something real."
The dark figure floated in the mist, his eyes glowing like coals.
"Hallel was born a shadow of Joseph… but with a will of his own. And Tybbris had what he needed."
Indra's chest tightened. The pieces began to fit. The war. The chaos. The destruction.
"God judged Tybbris," Sentry said, voice flat. "He was cast out of the heavens. Along with all who followed him. But even as they fell, Tybbris vowed revenge."
The illusion twisted again—Tybbris descending into blackness, fire streaking behind him. Thousands followed, winged and weaponed.
"In exile, Tybbris formed The Zehirah. Divine beings twisted by hatred and ambition. Their goal: destroy the heavens, and remake the world in Tybbris's image—with Hallel as their sword."
Indra swallowed.
"And we… fight that?"
Sentry nodded.
"To defend creation, God called upon Joseph once more. Alongside him stood Taliyah. Michael. And others. They were forged anew—with divine gifts beyond mortal comprehension. They became The Velari."
The vision flared—Joseph, Taliyah, and Michael stood together, weapons drawn, energy spiraling off them like comets. Indra saw hope in their posture. Power. But also burden.
"God gave them two commands," Sentry said. "'Protect the people. Bring The Zehirah to justice.' Nothing more. Nothing less."
The illusions dissolved.
Silence fell again.
Indra's voice broke it.
"And the laws?"
At his question, the space around them responded. Floating glyphs appeared—glowing white, shaped like written commandments, circling slowly in the air.
Sentry recited them with unwavering clarity.
"One: Never raise your hand against Velari. Unity must never fracture."
"Two: Stay out of human conflict. Velari are not kings. We are guardians, not rulers."
"Three: No romantic bonds with mortals. A divine heart cannot divide its loyalty."
"Four: Any Velari who sides with corruption… receives the maximum punishment."
Indra looked up.
"What's the maximum?"
Sentry answered without hesitation.
"Erasure. Body. Soul. Memory. All gone. As if they never existed."
Indra's throat went dry.
Sentry stepped forward, its movements precise, each one guided by a grace that defied its mechanical form. It stopped a few feet from Indra, standing tall against the backdrop of mist and divine light. The Infinite Void seemed to still in anticipation, as if even it knew what came next carried weight.
"The Velarian Code is absolute," Sentry said, its voice softer now, but no less firm. "Not because God is cruel… but because compromise is a crack in the foundation. And through that crack… Tybbris waits."
Its head tilted slightly, gaze locked with Indra's.
"And through that crack, Hallel exist."
The mist around them shifted—no longer swirling, no longer drifting. It settled slowly, like the final breath of a storm exhaled across creation. Even the floor beneath them dimmed, the gentle glow fading to a low, steady pulse.
"That is the truth of the world you now walk in," Sentry continued. "The Zehirah are not enemies of flesh and bone. They are remnants of divine rebellion. Ancient. Intelligent. Consumed by purpose. They were once what we are. Now, they exist only to destroy."
It paused.
"I will not deceive you. These beings are powerful. Far more powerful than I am. Far more than you will become through simple training. But basic mastery is no longer a luxury for you, Indra. It is a necessity. Without it… you will not survive the dangers ahead."
Indra said nothing at first. He stood there in silence, the truth pressing against his chest like armor he wasn't sure he could carry. His thoughts raced—flashes of Gabriella wounded, of Kalanie crying in the dark, of Iris with her back to the fire.
He took a slow breath.
Then he straightened.
"I understand," he said quietly.
His voice didn't carry force. It carried something deeper. A quiet certainty. One that had taken root in him somewhere between grief and fury, and had been growing ever since.
"I want to learn everything I can from you," Indra continued. "I want to save as many people as I can. I don't care what it costs."
He met Sentry's gaze without flinching.
"Please. Teach me."
For a moment, Sentry was still. Then a subtle hum passed through its chestplate. The sigils embedded in its arms flickered to life. Light rippled outward in response—through the ground, through the mist, through the very fabric of the void itself.
The world responded.
"Very well," Sentry said.
Its voice rang like tempered steel.
The glow beneath Indra's feet flared. All around them, the Infinite Void shifted. Pillars of light emerged from the nothingness. Runes ignited across the floor, aligning into sacred patterns. A low, harmonic vibration filled the air, like the opening note of a song older than language.
Sentry took a single step back, raising one hand.
"Then let us begin."