Silence.
Then came the roar.
"ARGHHHHH—You forsaken beast! You shall die by my hand!"
Seraph's voice shattered the heavens. He seized Appolyth by the throat, white fire raging from his armor like a dying star. Her body writhed — ichor spilling from her eyes, her mouth, her wounds. Yet even in agony, she smiled.
"Love my gift?" she whispered, blood trickling from her lips. "As soon as I knew you were coming, I prepared it… just for you."
Seraph's grip tightened. The holy flames consumed the air itself.
"You can't kill me," she choked, defiance blazing in her eyes. "It's against the Order."
Seraph's laughter came low, cruel, almost human.
"Oh, I know that…" he said. "But what I prepared for you is just as special. You won't be disappointed."
Appolyth's smile faltered. The runes across her decayed body began to twist and spin, forming lines of dark blood that connected — symbols that no longer belonged to her.
Then she screamed.
White fire erupted from within her — divine, pure, merciless. The flames carved into her flesh, searing runes into her very soul. Chains of light and fire formed around her throat, her wrists, her legs… cutting through her tattered wings.
Seraph's voice echoed through the burning void:
"Appolyth… once radiant as the Heavens themselves. Look at you now. Your desires… have become your own chains."
The flames flared. The sky broke.
And with a thunderclap, they vanished into blinding light.
–––
Far from the devastation, under the blood moons, a child stirred.
Tiny amethyst eyes opened.
Runes burned faintly on his small body — four in total. Then, one by one, they shattered and disappeared into the air, leaving nothing but silence.
The boy blinked, unaware of the sin written into his very soul.