Rion should have fallen.
The vision should have ended.
But instead—
The world froze.
The blade hung inches above the infant's chest.
Not moving.
Not falling.
Suspended in a painful, perfect stillness.
Rion floated in the memory like a ghost trapped inside his own origin.
A whisper slithered through the frozen scene:
"Look closer."
Rion stiffened.
"Who's there?!"
The vision shifted—just a fraction.
The blade that seemed about to strike—
Stopped just before touching the child.
The armored Seraph's hand trembled…
Then jerked sideways as if yanked by an unseen force.
The blow missed.
Barely.
A second figure stepped from behind the Seraph, lowering the blade by force.
A hooded woman. Slim. Quiet.
Her aura flickered like a dying star.
Rion strained to see her face—
But the memory blurred over it, as though something refused to let him know her identity.
She whispered sharply:
"You fool. We can still alter the prophecy. His death is not the only path."
The armored Seraph hesitated.
"He carries the Echo. It will awaken."
"It may never," she snapped.
"And if it does… we will need him more than you can imagine."
Rion's pulse thundered.
Needed?
Him?
For what?
The hooded Seraph suddenly turned—
Staring directly at Rion.
Not the infant.
The Rion witnessing the memory.
As if she could see him through time.
Rion froze.
Her voice echoed inside his skull:
"When the wings burn black… run."
The memory shattered like a mirror dropped from heaven.
Outside the Rite—
Azrath rose again.
Barely.
He looked half-dissolved.
Feathers gone.
Wings cracked.
Light trembling in him like a candle in a storm.
Kaela reached for him.
"Azrath—stop! You're dying!"
"I don't care." His voice was a growl of raw desperation.
"I won't let him see that part alone."
He staggered to the barrier…
And instead of striking—
Pressed his forehead to it.
His silver aura thinned until it was almost invisible.
He whispered something in the celestial tongue—
A plea.
A prayer.
A command.
The barrier flickered.
Then—
It cracked.
The Silent Saint stiffened.
"That is impossible."
Azrath lifted his head, eyes blazing with something ancient.
"I was once a High Seraph of the Court," he said quietly.
"Your barriers recognize my authority—whether you want them to or not."
The Saint's hand twitched.
For the first time—
Fear flickered in his posture.
Seraphine watched Azrath struggle, trembling from head to toe.
Her heart pounded.
She had already broken rules simply by witnessing all of this.
Now—
She was about to destroy her career, her honor, her entire future.
But she didn't hesitate.
She lifted her spear—
And slammed the butt into the barrier at the exact moment Azrath pushed his power into it.
A shockwave rippled out.
The Saint whipped around.
"Seraphine—!"
She yelled back, furious:
"I won't let the Order sacrifice another child! I won't!"
Golden light burst from her spear, weaving into Azrath's weakening aura.
The barrier cracked deeper.
The Silent Saint moved to restrain her—
But then—
He froze.
A faint sound reached him.
Rion's scream.
Not of pain.
Of horror.
And something inside the Saint faltered.
His mask tilted downward, as if he were questioning his next step.
He whispered, barely audible:
"…What truth is he being shown?"
---
Rion staggered as the world reformed around him.
He now stood in a spiraling chamber carved from starlight.
Symbols drifted in the air—glowing, shifting, trying to hide themselves.
At the center floated an ancient stone tablet—
Words carved in a language Rion instinctively understood.
THE PROPHECY OF THE SERAPH-ECHO
His vision blurred, forcing him to read:
"When the Fallen Seraph takes mortal flesh—
When the halo breaks into twin-colored eyes—
When the Echo awakens in a child unchosen—
The heavens shall fall or rise by his hand."
Rion felt the blood drain from his face.
Him.
The prophecy was talking about him.
But there was a final line—
One that pulsed like a heartbeat:
"And the guardian shall betray him to save him."
Rion staggered backward.
Azrath… betray him?
No.
No, Azrath would never—
"You finally see it."
Rion turned—
And found Azrath in his true, majestic form standing behind him.
Except—
This wasn't the real Azrath.
It was a memory-echo.
A splinter of Azrath's past.
The echo's voice dripped with regret.
"The betrayal was destined. Written before either of us were born."
Rion's eyes stung.
"That's not true," he choked.
"You've done nothing but protect me."
Azrath looked at him with an expression torn between love and agony.
"The prophecy says I must betray you."
The world trembled around them.
Cracks spread through the chamber.
Rion stepped forward desperately.
"No! That's what they want you to think! What they fear—"
The chamber shattered—
The Rite began to collapse.
Outside—
The barrier split open.
A tear of light ripped down its center.
Azrath gasped, wings flaring as he forced the breach wider.
Seraphine shielded him and channeled mana into the opening.
The Silent Saint stared at the fracturing Rite, unmoving.
Torn.
Conflicted.
His voice shook.
"If the Rite collapses while he is inside… he will die."
Seraphine met his gaze fiercely.
"Then help us!"
For the first time—
The Silent Saint did not refuse.
He raised his hand—
And the divine barrier knelt to him.
Inside the Rite—
Rion was falling again.
The prophecy burned in his vision.
Azrath's echo reached for him—
But dissolved into motes of dying light.
Rion screamed as the world tore apart.
Darkness swallowed him.
Cold. Crushing. Endless.
And then—
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Not the echo.
Not a memory.
A real hand.
Azrath's.
The real Azrath.
His voice thundered through the collapsing void:
"I will never betray you—prophecy be damned!"
Rion's vision exploded into white light—
And the Rite collapsed.