The illumination here offered no warmth. It scorched—not flesh—Alexander Magnus experienced no agony—but recollections. The persistent echo of his identity the aroma of pine, from the valley where he grew up the serene solace of a human dawn all of it was stripped away beneath this unyielding soundless blaze. He crouched on a surface of hardened brilliance his golden armor reflecting the light into wild sparkling shards. His white garments, clean resembled a burial cloth.
Prior to him the War Angel Entity, Michael appeared not in form. As an occurrence. A fusion of blazing shafts of illumination the quiet of a stratospheric battleground the icy precise logic of tactics. A voice emerged, not from lips but from the atmosphere, within Alexander's helmet.
"The Abyss does not invade. It recollects. It is the recollection of chaos that the cosmos tries to erase.. Now it stirs."
Alexander kept his head lowered, not out of submission. With concentration. The burden of his task served as an anchor in this shapeless realm. ". What, about my part?"
"You represent the counter-memory. The deliberate amnesia we are compelled to enforce. You are the Herald. Your speech shall embody our intent. Your arm, our weapon. You will gather the Trinity of Atonement. Close the injury."
A torrent of insight, chilly like glacial water flooded Alexander's consciousness. Not charts,. Feelings: the moist, murmuring fear of a cave's opening; the piercing force of anguished magic in rarefied heights; the utter spirit-crushing quiet of an icy summit. Hölloch. Drunengalm. Weisshorn. Locations in the world, in a region named Switzerland. Sites of geological grief.
"The relics aren't instruments " Michael's tone declared, carrying a subtle trace of caution that might have existed in a less definitive entity. "They serve as tests. The Penitent's Blade severs the deceit you harbor within. The Chalice of Echoes overwhelms you with the discord of the world's mistakes. The Blue Ring of Stillness exposes you to the emptiness you strive to avert. To use them is to be undone and reshaped to fit our purpose."
At that moment Alexander experienced a within, right at the center of what he continued to consider his heart. It was fear—genuine, straightforward and valuable. He grasped onto it. ". What if I am... Undone... Faulty?"
The illumination surrounding him throbbed, a surge of undeniable command. "Then your efforts will be in vain.. The Abyss will revel in the symphony of human uncertainty you abandon. There is no 'you' beyond this mission Alexander Magnus. You were selected because the ember of mortality, within you is potent enough to withstand the blaze of the divine yet delicate enough to be devoured by it when the moment arrives. That defines your worth."
The words struck like a hammer on an anvil shaping him then and there. The fear remained,. It was condensed, molded into a chilling diamond-hard core of determination. This was no summons, for a hero. It was a draft.
"I see " Alexander replied, noticing his voice felt altered to him. More distinct. Hollower.
"The mortal realms are fearful. They will notice the signs—the fading veils, the crying shadows—. They will become anxious. They might obstruct you pleading for a deliverance that does not burn their land. You must not heed them. Their reassurance is not your directive."
"And the enemy? The Abyss Kingdom?"
A change in the illumination a sharp cutting clarity that seemed brutal. "They aren't a 'kingdom.' They represent a state. They aim to taint you to tempt you with the tranquility of giving in. Their leaders are exemplars of this choice. A commander who is an emptiness clad in armor. A queen who personifies rot. They talk of equilibrium of embracing the shadow. It's deceit. There is no harmony, with annihilation. Only victory. Or erasure."
Alexander witnessed glimpses. A knight clad in featureless black armor positioned within a landscape of grey quiet ashes. A woman with hair resembling moonlight and eyes like fading stars grinning with enticing teeth. The visions weren't menacing, in the sense. They seemed… sorrowful.. Profoundly perilously calm.
He dismissed the notion. It was an experiment. His initial one.
"I will unite the Trinity " Alexander proclaimed, standing up. The black and white plumage of his wings stirred, producing a noise of crisp parchment. "I will close the Abyss. No matter the price."
The heavenly glow started to withdraw, not growing faint. Drawing itself away, from him reclaiming its core. The realm of rock, breeze and delicate existence seeped into the margins of his awareness. He sensed soil and caught the far-off solitary call of a hawk.
Michael's last words arrived to him as though from an fading faraway place. "The price is your being, Messenger. We will assess what is left once the task is complete."
Darkness had fallen. Alexander remained on a mountain crest the immense mesmerizing splendor of the Swiss valleys stretched out beneath him like a hymn. The atmosphere was sharply chilly filled with the aroma of pine and frost. It was genuine. It was what he needed to protect.
He shifted the golden sword across his back its heft well-known and now almost insignificant. His initial goal was a network of caves called Hölloch. The Hell-Hole. He anticipated the villagers there would beg and caution him. Their dread would feel almost tangible.
He took a deep, shuddering breath of mortal air, holding onto its complex, untidy taste. Then he began to walk down the slope, his armored feet crushing the delicate alpine flowers underfoot. The first step of the path away from himself. The Directive was clear. The conviction in his heart was a locked box. And deep inside it, the small, human fear beat its wings against the dark.