The last burst of fireworks faded behind the clouds, leaving only smoke curling through the winter air. Kuoh fell quiet again. Far from the noise of the celebration, an abandoned church stood on a hill overlooking the town. Its roof had caved in years ago, but the broken spire still reached into the night like a finger of stone.
Three figures watched the sky from that ruin. The shattered stained glass scattered the final reflections of gold and red across their dark wings. Wind brushed through the empty frame where a bell once hung, carrying the smell of ash and snow.
In the center stood the leader, a tall Fallen holding a faintly glowing crystal. Its light pulsed with a steady rhythm, pointing toward a single location at the edge of Kuoh. He studied it for a moment before speaking.
"The reading's constant," he said. "It's in the orphanage."
His companions shifted their wings. None questioned the order that followed.
"Kokabiel's directive stands. We erase it before it matures."
They stepped into the open air together. The night accepted them without sound, wings slicing through the cold as they descended toward the quiet streets. Below, the remnants of fireworks smoke drifted above rooftops. The town slept.
The orphanage appeared near the outskirts, a modest two-story building softened by falling snow. Lanterns from the earlier festivities still hung along its eaves, faintly swaying. The leader lowered the crystal and extended a hand. Light traced along the ground in a wide circle, sinking into the earth until the air grew still.
A barrier settled over the property, invisible but heavy. The sound of the wind stopped. No movement remained outside its line.
"No interference," the leader said quietly. "No survivors."
A narrow spear of light formed between his palms. It hovered for a heartbeat, then fell. When it touched the roof, it vanished into the wood as if it had always belonged there. A thin plume of smoke rose through the snow. Then the first flame took.
It started softly, crawling along the rafters like breath, catching paper and ribbon left from the holiday. Soon orange light flickered behind the windows. Within seconds, the glow deepened to red.
The Fallen watched without expression. The crystal in the leader's hand brightened in response, its inner pulse growing frantic.
Inside, a shape stirred. Someone moved through the dormitory. Curtains shifted. Shadows crossed the glass.
The second of the trio looked down. "It's awake."
"It changes nothing," the leader replied.
From inside came muffled thuds and faint cries. The sound struck the barrier and went no farther. Wood groaned, hinges burned, and smoke rose faster. The fire spread through the upper rooms, swallowing the garlands that hung across the hallway.
The leader's voice carried faintly through the shimmering air. "Blame yourselves for being weak. Blame God for giving out Sacred Gears."
His words slipped through the barrier like a whisper through fog. Inside, the movements grew faster, but none escaped. The roof began to bow.
"Per Kokabiel's order," said the third, eyes fixed on the flames. "It's done."
The leader watched the crystal flicker one last time before fading. "Wait for the quiet."
They stood still while the building folded in on itself. The walls gave way, sparks leapt, and then the noise dulled to a long, uneven crack. When the crystal's glow vanished completely, the leader nodded once.
"The anomaly is gone."
The barrier unraveled, and air rushed back into the world. Snow drifted through the smoke. The night regained its breath.
"Report to Kokabiel," the leader said.
They rose together through the haze. Below them, the orphanage had become a dark outline surrounded by a ring of scorched snow. The last flames bent in the wind and went out.
By dawn, the town would find only ash and blackened beams where the building had stood. The river would carry the soot away, and no one would remember the sound that never reached beyond the barrier.
Above it all, the three ascended into the clouds, wings fading against the gray light of morning. The world below remained silent, and the faintest light of the night was gone.