The Silent Saint raised his palm, and the forest fell silent.
The wind halted. Leaves froze mid-fall. Even the crackle of Kaela's staff dimmed into nothing.
A ring of pale, shimmering light spread from the Saint's hand, settling around Rion like a cage of moonlight.
Rion staggered back.
"W-what is this…?!"
The Saint's masked face tilted slightly.
"Your soul is unstable. Your fate is uncertain. Before I decide whether you walk the path of man or monster… your truth must be judged."
Azrath's wings flared behind Rion, feathers bright with alarm.
"Stop! You don't have the authority to—"
The Saint's voice sliced the air without rising in volume.
"The Rite has begun."
Light exploded.
Azrath shot forward, trying to latch onto Rion's shoulder.
"Hold on, Rion! Don't let him—"
A streak of white cut between them.
Not a blade.
Not energy.
Something more final—like a divine decree rewriting reality.
Azrath was blown back, feathers scattering like falling stars.
"A-Azrath!" Rion reached out, fingers brushing only air.
The Saint lowered his arm calmly.
"The Rite permits no interference. The guardian soul must be separated."
Azrath slammed into the barrier, struggling, his form destabilizing.
His voice cracked—not with rage, but fear.
"RION! Listen to me! Don't accept anything you see! It's not—"
His voice vanished as another layer of the barrier swallowed him.
Rion's knees hit the ground.
A second later, Rion's consciousness was pulled inward—dragged violently—like someone was tearing open his memories and forcing him inside.
Branches snapped. A gale of golden mana burst into the clearing.
Seraphine landed hard, spear in hand, eyes scanning the battlefield.
"Rion!"
She sprinted straight toward him—only to collide with a translucent wall of holy light.
BOOM—!
The shock knocked her backwards into a tree trunk.
Gasping, she pressed her palm to the barrier.
It shimmered at her touch, rejecting her entirely.
The Silent Saint glanced at her but did not turn.
"You should not be here, Seraphine."
Her heart hammered.
"You're performing a Judgment Rite on a boy who hasn't even awakened?! That's forbidden!"
The Saint's voice remained hollow, devoid of emotion.
"He carries the echo of a Fallen Seraph. His nature cannot be overlooked."
"That does not justify this!" Seraphine slammed her spear against the barrier.
Golden sparks sprayed harmlessly off it.
"Stop the Rite! He won't survive it!"
The Saint did not answer.
Because the trial had already begun.
Darkness.
Then—a flicker.
A memory surfaced, unbidden.
Rion stood within a place he barely recognized but somehow remembered:
His childhood village.
The sky was clear. Children ran beside him. He felt… happy. Safe.
A warmth he hadn't felt in years.
"What is this…?" Rion whispered.
His voice echoed strangely—as if he were both present and distant.
A figure leaned against a tree nearby.
White-haired. Pale-eyed.
Azrath.
But not the Azrath he knew.
This Azrath looked… human.
No wings. No feathers. No ethereal glow.
Just a man with tired eyes.
He smiled faintly.
"You shouldn't have come back here, Rion."
Rion froze.
"This isn't real," he said quickly. "The Saint is showing me illusions."
Azrath—this human version—stepped closer.
"You think that makes what you see unimportant?"
The world blurred—and shifted.
The scene melted into a different place:
A towering temple of marble and silver.
Celestial runes glowing like trapped lightning.
Voices whispering in a language Rion couldn't recognize.
Azrath—the real Azrath—stood at the center, wings outstretched, facing a circle of armored figures.
The Order.
Their helmets bore the crest of the Seraphic Sigil.
Azrath's voice thundered, furious and desperate:
"You can't do this! He is a child!"
One of the armored figures responded coldly:
"Then it will be an easy sacrifice."
Rion's breath vanished.
"A… sacrifice…?"
The memory fragment sharpened—just for a moment—like a blade touching his throat.
Another voice entered.
Soft. Calm. Deadly.
"We have no choice, Azrath. The Seraph's power must not remain with the unchosen."
Rion felt something crack inside him.
Azrath roared. A burst of celestial energy shook the hall—
And the memory shattered like glass.
Rion collapsed to his knees inside the dreamscape, clutching his head.
"No… no, that wasn't… that can't be real. Azrath would never— The Order wouldn't—"
The Saint's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
"Witness your truth. Accept it. Be judged."
Rion screamed as another wave of memories surged forward—
But this time, something resisted.
A golden feather drifted into view.
Azrath's voice whispered faintly, cutting through the collapsing world:
"Rion. No matter what you see…
I never betrayed you."
Another vision engulfed him.
What awaited him next—was the beginning of the truth.