The battlefield was silent now — only rain and ash remained.
Kael stood amid the ruins, his wings dim, the light that once defined him flickering like a dying flame.
He looked at his hand — trembling, glowing faintly gold.
The blood on it wasn't just divine. It was Arhaan's.
For the first time in his eternal life, Kael felt shame.
---
The voice of the High Arbiter echoed in his mind like a storm.
> "You hesitated."
Kael fell to one knee, gripping his chest as divine light burned through him.
> "You hesitated! You allowed the heretic to live!"
Kael gasped, struggling against the searing pain. "He is no heretic—"
> "Silence!" the Arbiter's voice roared, the sound shattering the clouds. "You have forgotten who you serve."
The light flared — and then suddenly stopped.
Kael lay in the mud, coughing, his halo cracked, one wing scorched.
"Perhaps I have," he whispered.
---
Days passed.
Arhaan had wandered far from the mountain, moving through forgotten lands, his steps echoing among the ruins of an old civilization.
The Oathbreaker hung at his side, humming softly — almost alive.
He could feel something changing.
The whispers of mortals were growing louder.
They no longer called him "the chained wanderer."
They called him The Bound God.
He had become a myth — a symbol of defiance, of mercy, of strength born from suffering.
And though he never sought worship, he could not stop it.
Azrakar's voice broke the silence in his mind.
> "Do you hear them, Arhaan? The faithful of the fallen. The forgotten of Heaven. They are calling your name."
Arhaan stopped, closing his eyes.
"I'm no god," he said quietly. "Not yet."
> "You already are," the jinn replied. "A god is not born from worship. He is born from truth. And yours has begun to spread."
---
Meanwhile, far above the mortal skies, Kael limped through the golden corridors of Heaven.
The other angels avoided him — whispers followed in his wake.
Fallen.
Doubtful.
Broken.
He reached the edge of the Citadel, where the clouds opened into infinity.
Below, the mortal world shimmered faintly — green, alive, free.
He could feel Arhaan's presence.
"Was I ever righteous," Kael whispered, "or just obedient?"
A voice spoke behind him — soft, feminine, sorrowful.
It was Seris, the Angel of Dawn.
"You've begun to see, haven't you?" she said. "Heaven isn't as pure as we were taught."
Kael turned slowly. "You speak treason."
Seris smiled sadly. "Maybe truth and treason are the same thing now."
She stepped closer, placing a small crystal shard in his hand.
"This was taken from the Arbiter's archives. It's a memory — of what Heaven did to Azrakar."
Kael looked at the shard, light flickering through it like liquid fire.
And when he touched it—he saw.
The screams. The betrayal. The execution.
Azrakar's wings being torn apart as the Arbiter spoke the first divine lie.
Kael dropped to his knees, horrified. "All this time… we've been serving corruption."
Seris nodded. "Now you know why Arhaan fights."
Kael clenched his fist around the shard.
"I swore an oath to justice," he said. "Not to Heaven."
---
That night, a golden halo fell from the sky.
Mortals who saw it whispered that even angels had begun to question Heaven.
And somewhere far below, Arhaan lifted his head.
He smiled faintly.
> "Welcome to freedom, Kael."