Elara's POV
"Thirty seconds," Raphael repeats, his fingers tightening around the golden cage. Lyanna screams as the curse marks spread further across her skin. "Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight."
"Don't do it," Azrael whispers beside me, gripping my hand. "It's a trap. He'll kill you both."
"I know." My heart is breaking, but my mind is clear. Through our bond, I push a thought to him: Trust me. No matter what happens next, trust me.
I feel his confusion, his fear, but then his understanding. He squeezes my hand once—I trust you.
"Fifteen seconds," Raphael announces.
I step forward, hands raised. "I'll surrender. Just let her go."
"Elara, no!" Lyanna gasps from inside the cage.
"Yes," Raphael smiles. "A wise choice. Come here, fallen healer. Kneel before Heaven's judgment."
I walk toward him slowly, feeling every angel's eyes on me. Behind Raphael, I see Uriel's face—conflicted, uncertain, his sword still raised but wavering.
"Five seconds," Raphael says.
I'm ten feet away now. Close enough.
"I surrender," I say clearly. "On one condition."
Raphael's smile widens. "You're hardly in a position to bargain."
"The condition is this." I meet his cold eyes. "You answer one question honestly, in front of all these witnesses. If you do, I'll come willingly."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll have to kill us all right here, right now. And every angel watching will wonder why an Archangel was afraid to answer a simple question."
Raphael's jaw tightens. I can see him calculating. Around us, the siege angels are watching, listening. Uriel is watching. This is a public moment, and Raphael knows it.
"Ask," he says coldly.
"Did you curse my sister twenty years ago, knowing I would break Heaven's laws to save her, so you could have an excuse to cast me down and harvest my corrupted essence later?"
The silence that follows is deafening.
Raphael's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. "That's a ridiculous accusation—"
"Answer yes or no," I interrupt. "You promised honesty in front of witnesses."
"I don't have to explain myself to a fallen—"
"YES OR NO!" My voice rings out across the clearing. "Did you deliberately engineer my fall so you could harvest fallen angels' power for your coup against the other Archangels?"
Raphael's face twists with rage. And in that moment of losing control, his power spikes.
The golden cage around Lyanna flares brighter, and she screams as the curse marks reach her heart.
"You want the truth?" Raphael snarls. "Yes. I cursed her. I've been harvesting fallen angels for five centuries, building power. And you two—" He gestures at me and Azrael, "—you're the last pieces I need. Your combined essence will make me unstoppable."
Gasps ripple through the siege line. Angels backing away. Uriel's face going white with shock and horror.
"There," I say calmly, even as my heart pounds. "You heard him. Witnesses. An Archangel confessing to corruption, murder, and treason."
Raphael realizes his mistake. His eyes narrow. "It doesn't matter. No one will live to report this."
He raises his hand, and divine power explodes outward—not to capture us, but to kill every witness.
"NOW!" I scream.
Azrael and I join hands, and silver light erupts from our joined palms. Not to attack Raphael—to shield.
The silver light expands into a dome, covering every angel in the siege line, protecting them from Raphael's killing blow. The divine energy crashes against our shield and deflects harmlessly into the sky.
Through our bond, I feel Azrael's shock. This wasn't the plan I showed him. But it's the plan I needed.
"Uriel!" Azrael shouts. "You see the truth now! Help us!"
For one terrible moment, Uriel hesitates.
Then his sword ignites with holy fire, and he turns it toward Raphael.
"In the name of Heaven's true justice," Uriel says, his voice shaking but firm, "I declare you a traitor, Raphael. And I will see you face judgment."
Half the siege line follows Uriel's lead, weapons turning toward Raphael. The other half looks confused, torn between loyalty and truth.
Raphael laughs, and it's a sound like breaking glass. "You think this changes anything? You think your little rebellion matters?"
He crushes his hand into a fist.
Lyanna's scream cuts off as the curse reaches her heart.
"NO!" I release Azrael's hand and throw myself forward, all my healing magic pouring into Lyanna's dying body.
The moment I break contact with Azrael, the shield falters.
Raphael's power slams into me like a hammer, driving me to my knees. But I don't let go of Lyanna. I pour everything I have into her—every drop of corrupted healing magic, every spark of power.
The curse recoils from my touch, unable to exist in the presence of healing so strong.
Lyanna gasps, her eyes opening. "Elara?"
"I've got you," I whisper.
Then Raphael's hand wraps around my throat, lifting me off the ground.
"Foolish girl," he hisses. "You just gave me exactly what I wanted."
His other hand plunges into my chest—not physically, but magically—and I feel him start to rip my corrupted essence from my body. Pain explodes through every nerve.
Through our bond, Azrael feels it too. He screams my name.
And that's when the silver light erupts—not from our joined hands, but from inside me, from inside Azrael, from the bond itself.
The prophecy activates.