Silver light from the Sixth Sector of Heaven spilled across the crystal walls, winding like rivers of moonlight. The chamber was so silent that one could hear the pulse of energy — the heartbeat of Heaven itself.
Remiel stood there — slender, cloaked in shimmering silver that fluttered with the faintest movement of air. His eyeless gaze reflected a cold, piercing light. Upon the table, the Pandora Box glowed faintly, like the trembling breath of a soul yet to find rest.
He paced back and forth, each step whispering like a blade slicing through the wind. None knew what thoughts stirred within him — not even his closest angels. Only silence remained, the silver radiance threading through his hair and along the chamber's edge, as though the entire realm were holding its breath.
At last, Remiel stopped. A soft, silvery glow rippled from his staff, light as mist. Two young angels — Lyria and Caelum— knelt in the distance, trembling. The light touched them, and their memories of the recent mission dissolved.
No screams. No pain.
Only a blur, a fading void — as if a fragment of their souls had been quietly drawn away.
Remiel exhaled, turning the staff in his hand.
"Forgive me," he murmured, "for knowledge always demands sacrifice."
His silhouette drifted from the sanctum, the silver light trailing behind every step.
None would ever know that within those blank, white eyes, Remiel had glimpsed into the soul — and found one pure enough to hold the power of Satan that Azrakar had once sown.
Raphael's Chamber – Second SectorRaphael's chamber was a different world: white, tranquil, and immaculate. The Archangel of Renewal stood before a basin of energy, his silver hair glimmering, his white robes pure as starlight. When Remiel entered, Raphael turned — a gentle smile upon his lips, though his eyes remained watchful.
"Remiel," he said softly, "I've heard about your last mission. It seems… successful."
Remiel said nothing.
He set his staff upon the floor; the sound rang like metal striking glass.
After a long silence, he spoke:
"I need… a new body."
Raphael stiffened slightly.
"You?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. "You are still strong. Your vessel is unweakened. Why would you need another form?"
Remiel lifted his head — the white of his eyes shimmering like still water.
"Because time spares no one, not even angels. When the darkness rises, I must be prepared."
Silence hung heavy.
Then Raphael spoke — his voice low, mournful, like an ancient bell tolling across eternity.
"You're hiding something, Remiel."
Remiel smiled faintly — a rare, fragile curve of his lips.
"Not hiding, Raphael. Merely… waiting for the right moment."
The Vessel ChamberThe white door opened. Light cascaded like a waterfall of silver.
At the center of the chamber lay a small body — a child, no more than ten years old — suspended within a crystal cocoon.
Soft black hair. Translucent skin. Veins pulsing faintly with silver light.
On its shoulder blades, two glowing marks — the promise of wings yet unborn.
Raphael stepped closer, touching the crystal's surface.
"This body," he said quietly, "was created from the cells of God Himself. It has no soul, but it can contain a power beyond comprehension. I meant to keep it for myself — but if you truly need it…"
Remiel approached.
The light in his eyes shimmered, as if stirred by unseen thought.
"No," he said softly. "Not yet. Keep it. But when the time comes… let it bear my name."
Raphael stared at him for a long time, then whispered:
"You remind me of the moment before the First War — when everything began from a single soul… and a single word."
Remiel turned, grasping his staff.
"And it will begin again, Raphael. Only this time — no one will know which side I stand on."
The door closed behind him, leaving the sleeping vessel bathed in white light.
Beneath the child's skin, silver veins continued to pulse — steady, patient — as though waiting for a soul to call it home.