The aurora that shimmered beyond the cliffs did not fade with distance.It grew, a red halo that swallowed the horizon, pulsing in rhythm with every heartbeat Lyn took.
The air changed as they crossed the ravine. Sound fell away; even their footsteps made no echo. The land itself felt paused between one breath and the next.
Umbra's form dimmed until only its eyes glowed faintly in the dark. —We stand upon the threshold, it whispered. The Ascension Fields.
"It feels wrong," Rhea murmured. "Like the world forgot to breathe."
Lyn lifted his gaze. "No. It's waiting."
The landscape unfolded into vast white plains of glass and ash. Spiraling glyphs floated above the surface—thousands of them—each a remnant of tamers who'd once sworn loyalty to the Council's gods. They circled lazily, whispering in forgotten tongues.
Arden's hand hovered over his weapon. "Are they… souls?"
Umbra's voice rumbled low. —Fragments of obedience. Each one a vow that was never broken.
Rhea shivered. "Then this place is a graveyard of faith."
At the center of that graveyard rose the Sixth Seal—an obsidian monolith split by a single vein of crimson light. The energy radiating from it bent the air, distorting sight and sound.
Lyn stepped closer. His crest responded instantly, flaring bright until it cast his shadow in three directions at once. "This one feels… alive."
Umbra's shape flickered beside him. —Because it is. The Seal of Ascension is not meant to be broken. It chooses who rises and who is erased.
A low tremor rolled through the plain. The glyphs overhead stilled, then slowly descended—forming a spiral around Lyn.
Rhea raised her staff. "They're moving toward you—like they recognize your crest!"
"They don't just recognize it," he said quietly. "They're obeying it."
Each sigil fused into the ground, one by one, until the light formed a massive ring beneath the Seal. The air thickened with ancient power.
Then came the voice.
"At last… the inheritor returns."
It wasn't a sound, but a vibration in their bones. The monolith pulsed once, and a figure stepped forth—a woman clothed in light, her hair a cascade of shifting flame. Six smaller crests floated behind her like a halo.
Rhea gasped. "The Seraph of the Council…"
Umbra's growl echoed faintly. —Liora. The first Tamer of the Divine Order.
The woman smiled, eyes gentle yet terrible. "Umbra. The shadow that defied its master." Her gaze fell upon Lyn. "And you… the vessel of rebellion. Tell me, child, what drives you to defy the design that made you?"
Lyn's voice was steady. "Because I saw what obedience cost."
Liora tilted her head. "Freedom is a dangerous illusion. Mortals wield power they cannot understand. The Seals were mercy—cages to keep the world safe from itself."
"And yet here we are," Lyn said. "Your cages failed."
For a heartbeat, her expression softened. "Then perhaps you will understand why they must be rebuilt."
She lifted a hand. The Seal flared, its energy coiling into a thousand threads that reached toward him. Lyn's crest blazed in response, Umbra's wings snapping open to block the surge.
The air screamed as light and shadow collided.The ground shattered into hovering shards of glass.
Rhea shouted through the chaos. "Lyn, she's rewriting the mana flow!"
"Then we unwrite it!" he called back.
Umbra's form expanded, merging partly with Lyn—black wings of smoke wrapping around his body as if the two were one being. —Remember our bond, Umbra whispered. —It is not obedience. It is choice.
Together, they struck.Their combined energy hit the Seal like thunder.
Liora's voice echoed across the ruin. "Foolish child! You'll unravel creation itself!"
"Then creation should've chosen better," Lyn growled.
The crimson vein within the Seal split wide. Light burst upward like a geyser, staining the heavens red. The glyphs screamed, then fell silent.
When the brilliance faded, the Seraph was gone—only feathers of light drifted where she had stood.
Rhea dropped to her knees, trembling. "Is it… over?"
Umbra's answer came softly. —No. The Seal is broken, but her essence remains. The Seventh will wake soon.
Lyn stared into the bleeding sky. Each beat of his heart echoed like a drum in the distance.
"Then the gods will remember what rebellion sounds like."
The wind howled through the glass plains—no longer empty, but alive with the pulse of something ancient and rising.