Dante vanished mid-sentence. One moment he was standing there, reaching out to Serah with those pale, storm-tired eyes, and in the next, he was simply gone. The world shifted around him, pulled like a curtain torn from its rails, and then silence.
A chamber made of nothing. No walls, no floor, just emptiness and pressure. And the voice.
"She was sent to Limbo," the voice said, not in anger, but in the kind of stillness that breaks men. "So why is she back?"
Dante lowered his head. "I… I made an error."
There was a pause, long enough for the weight of eternity to press into his ribs.
"You are familiar with the price of errors," the voice said.
"I am," Dante replied, his voice barely above a breath. "And I'm ready to pay for it."
"You broke the divine boundary once before," it continued. "You entered Limbo for a soul you weren't meant to save. If it happens again, if history repeats itself, you already know what will come of the one you brought back."
Dante didn't look up. "If it comes to that," he said slowly, "then take me instead. As we agreed."
There was another pause. Then, calm as ever, the voice replied, "Very well. End the girl before she becomes more."
And with that, he was dismissed.
Night fell across the city like a tired eyelid. Serah drifted in the shadow of the moonlight, her soul searching. Rachel's body was gone, stolen, and she had no idea where to start. But rage has a compass of its own.
The places that once felt warm were now stained with memory and blood. She scoured the university gates. Da Chela, where they once mocked Ezra's appetite. Billy's, now cold and dim. But then she saw it.
An old, rust-bitten building on the corner of a street most people never turned into, the kind of place swallowed by silence. And there they were.
Kathy. Kevin.
Walking away from the place like nothing had happened.
She didn't think. She burned. A low rumble spread through her chest as she raced toward them like a streak of lightning through storm clouds. She was seconds away from colliding with them, possessing them, breaking every rule to make them pay, when Dante appeared.
She crashed into him like wind through glass. But instead of falling, she fell through and landed somewhere else entirely.
The ground beneath her shimmered like jade stone. Ancient trees bent overhead like mourners in prayer. A shrine stood nearby, its wood blackened by time and untouched by weather. Mountains rose like titans in the distance. It was beautiful, and wrong.
"What is this place?" Serah growled, spinning around. "Why did you bring me here?"
"You need to wait," Dante said calmly. "Cool your spirit. It's not yet your time to confront them."
She tried to fly toward the edge, but her soul bounced back like a magnet repelled. "You locked me in."
"I did."
"I just want her back. That's all."
"And you will," he said gently. "But not like this."
Serah clenched her fists, her fingers fading in and out like smoke. "Is she safe?"
"She is," Dante said. "As long as they don't have you, she's safe. But Ezra is not."
Her breath hitched. "What are you talking about?"
"He went to see you," Dante said. "He was desperate. And desperation is the cult's favorite sin. They used it."
Serah's voice trembled. "Is he dying?"
"Soon."
Her soul flinched. "No. No, he was just fine. He looked tired, but—"
"His body is breaking. He wasn't made to hold spirits, Serah. And yet he let them in. Repeatedly."
Silence stretched long enough to unravel the stars.
Then Serah whispered, "What can I do?"
"Train."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You are a storm waiting to be named," Dante said. "The House of Apostles is not just some twisted cult. It's an empire. Well-funded. Politically guarded. Hidden in plain sight."
"And they want me."
"Yes. But worse, they believe Rachel is the key to accessing you. A gifted vessel. You are their prize. She is their leverage."
"Great," Serah muttered. "So what? I do nothing?"
"No. You train. You learn what you can do and what you mustn't do. You are not a merger, but you are something else entirely. Something even Fio…, Madame, has yet to define."
"Speaking of which," Serah snapped, "she and Rosaline mentioned training. Is this some sort of spiritual bootcamp?"
Dante stared at her blankly. "Not quite."
Serah sighed. "Fine. So where are we?"
"You don't need to know."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with." Then, softer, "I don't want to be sent to Limbo before I save Rachel. And before I beat some sense into Ezra."
Dante turned away, hiding a rare smile.
Far from the mountain shrine, beneath storm-laden clouds, Miss Rosaline stood at the gates of Rachel's neighborhood, coat drawn tight against the wind. Two lesser spirits stood beside her, wearing the forms of middle-aged locals, their eyes flickering like candles behind frosted glass.
Under Madame's instructions, Rosaline had tracked Rachel's last known presence to this block. Neighbors claimed she'd returned home briefly. But when Rosaline approached the doorstep, Rachel's parents opened with odd smiles and stiff posture.
"Rachel's gone for a scholarship program," her mother said, reciting it like a line remembered in pieces. "She'll be back in a month."
Rosaline's eyes narrowed. The aura around them was wrong. Not possessed. Not broken. Manipulated. The worst kind of trick, one that left no trace.
She didn't press further. She bowed politely and turned away, a chill crawling up her spine. Behind her, the door closed. The lock clicked too quickly.
"They're using her," Rosaline murmured.
In another part of the city, the rot ran deeper. A small, abandoned warehouse near the old railway yard, its concrete cracked from within as though the building itself wanted to scream.
Inside, Ezra sat on the ground, shivering. He looked half-dead, skin gray around the edges, eyes sunken and bruised. His hands wouldn't stop twitching.
Kevin stood nearby, arms folded. Kathy beside him, expression unreadable.
"You believe us now?" Kathy asked, crouching beside Ezra. "Spirits. Possession. The veil between life and death."
Ezra didn't speak. His eyes were locked on a corner of the ceiling where no one else saw what he saw.
"Do you believe me now?" she repeated.
Ezra blinked and nodded slowly. "I let them in," he whispered. "Over and over. Just for a glimpse. A whisper of her voice…"
His body convulsed once, like something inside him was rejecting reality.
Kathy looked at him then, really looked, and for a second something fragile crossed her face. Not pity. Not sympathy. Envy.
Even in death, Serah had left an imprint so deep that Ezra was willing to destroy himself just to feel it again. Kathy's relationship with Kevin had always been a lie, an arrangement, a performance for the cult. She'd never dared want anything for herself.
And now, she did.
Ezra.
But wanting had a cost. Always.
Two spirits stirred behind her spine, whispering in unison: "Obedience, child. Thought is a dangerous luxury."
Kathy straightened, her mask sliding back into place. "Get up. We need to move."
Ezra didn't respond. So Kevin grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upright. His body was failing, but his obsession burned hotter than ever.
Elsewhere, far from all noise and city, Madame stood on a barren cliff in the dead of night. The land had no name. Trees bent as if ashamed. The grave beneath her feet was so old that time itself had nearly swallowed it.
She brushed dirt from the headstone.
Dante Luther II
1531 – 1559
Her breath caught. "He was just a boy."
A boy who became a martyr. A puppet. A guardian. A pawn of the divine. Even now, centuries later, they were still using him.
"I warned you not to interfere again," she said to the stone. "And here you are. Disobeying me once more."
Only silence answered. And the sound of wings overhead, ravens circling, unsettled.
Back in the shrine, Serah sat on the cold stone floor, staring into nothing. Everything Dante had said echoed through her. Ezra was dying. Rachel's body was a pawn. The cult wasn't madness; it was an empire.
And she was the final prize.
She felt powerless. Angry. Awake. Not just as a ghost, but as something else. Something vast. Dangerous. Unnamed.
Her power was growing. And so were the eyes watching her.
Far away, in a chamber not marked on any map, a man in red robes watched from a crystal bowl. Behind him, Kathy and Kevin stood silently.
"She's awakened," he said, voice like oil and broken glass. "The final piece is falling into place."
"And Rachel?" Kathy asked.
"She will serve her purpose."
"And Ezra?"
"Collateral," he replied. "Let the boy break. Let her feel it. Only then will she be ready."
He smiled, and the room darkened.
Across the city, animals felt it. Dogs stopped barking. Cats hissed at corners that held nothing. Crows circled abandoned rooftops. Even insects vanished.
Only one creature did not stir.
On a quiet windowsill, Mr. Whiskers blinked once at the sky, tail twitching.
"About time," he muttered.