Chapter 14: The Seraph Who Forgot Heaven
The sky cracked at dawn.
Not like thunder. Not like storm. It split with a pure, silver-edged fracture — the kind that didn't belong in mortal air. Yan Long saw it while boiling tea. Bai saw it and immediately swore. Daojin watched the clouds bend backward as something descended.
Something on fire.
Something with wings.
By the time it hit the earth, it had left a trail of light that refused to fade.
They found the crater three valleys over. Steam curled from scorched stone. Birds perched on branches that no longer remembered their own shapes. The impact point pulsed faintly with divine energy — not hostile, not healing. Searching.
In the center lay a young man.
Not older than twenty. Bare-chested. Skin the color of sunlit marble. White hair singed at the tips. A long scar ran down his spine, and attached to it
Wings.
Not feathered. Not mechanical.
Scripted.
Lines of living text formed the wings, shifting and unreadable. They shimmered in and out of phase, like unfinished poetry trying to write itself into existence.
In his hand: a sword.
Its blade was cracked. Its guard fused with old gold and starlight. And carved along the flat of the blade, burned in celestial tongue but clear as day:
YAN LONG
"…That's your name," Bai said, pointing.
"I know," Yan replied, staring.
Daojin approached slowly. "He's… divine. Fallen, maybe. Not corrupted. But erased."
The young man stirred. His eyes opened — silver, glowing faintly.
And they locked on Yan.
"You're real," he whispered. "I… remember that much."
Yan knelt beside him. "Who are you?"
"I… don't know. I only remember falling. And… your name. Over and over."
The boy looked at his blade, confused and afraid. "I think… I was sent to kill you. Or save you. Or warn you. I can't remember which."
A moment of silence passed.
Then Bai muttered, "I swear, it's like you're a magnet for cosmic orphans."
They brought him back to camp.
Fragmenta stirred when she saw him — and didn't recoil, which surprised Yan. The two looked at each other like matching keys unsure which lock they belonged to. Neither spoke.
The boy sat beside the fire, wings folded, gaze distant.
Yan offered him tea.
"You've got pieces of heaven in you," he said quietly. "But no memory. That scares me."
The boy nodded. "Me too."
"Do you want a name?"
He hesitated.
Then: "A placeholder, at least. Until I remember."
Yan looked at the sword.
"Seraphon," he said. "A name built from heaven and fracture."
The boy repeated it softly. "Seraphon. Yes… that feels close."
That night, Seraphon stood watch without being asked.
His sword pulsed faintly when Yan moved. Not in aggression — in recognition.
Daojin ran tests, trying to read the scripting in Seraphon's wings. Bai quietly hid a flame trap under his blanket, "just in case." Fragmenta sat beside him in silence, their broken systems flickering like twin fireflies.
And Yan dreamed.
Of towers built from plot. Of divine wars scripted but never fought. Of a single choice — still unseen — that would tip the scale of this world into legend… or ruin.
> [New Companion Acquired: Seraphon – Role Undefined]
Bond Status: Awaiting Trigger Event
Note: Some truths are hidden because they must be chosen, not found.
The next morning, Seraphon said:
"I remember something. Just a single phrase."
"What is it?" Yan asked.
The boy looked at him, sword humming with restrained light.
"He must not reach the Broken City first."