Seraphine moved with precision, her blade slicing through the air with celestial grace. The sparring court of Asphodel shimmered with light, each of her movements sending golden echoes of energy through the marble floor. Her body was stronger than ever, her injuries healed, her focus razor-sharp—but deep within, something still ached. Not her wounds. Her heart.
The soft rustle of robes interrupted her rhythm. Claude stood by the edge of the court, his orange-winged form casting an elongated shadow. He did not speak immediately. He simply watched.
"Come to join me?" Seraphine asked, lowering her blade.
"No. To question you."
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. Claude's tone was calm, but beneath it ran something heavier—purpose.
"Without invitation?"
"My powers do not require one."
Before she could object, Claude raised a hand, and the shimmering haze of his mind-touch settled around her.
"Do you truly feel whole again?" he asked, his voice an echo in her mind.
"Yes."
"Then why do you still feel afraid?"
The haze dissipated. Seraphine staggered slightly, glaring.
"You overstep."
Claude only offered a faint smile. "Your heart still trembles when you think of him. I see it."
Before Seraphine could respond, the grand doors behind them opened.
Fahy and Feya entered, both dressed in formal white robes. Feya's voice rang out, crisp and clear.
"By command of Queen Rishe, all members of the High Circle are summoned to the Grand Hall."
Claude and Seraphine exchanged glances. Something was happening.
Moments later, they entered the Hall, where the rest of the Council had already gathered—Leya, Brisco, and Nathaniel standing close to the Queen's elevated dais. Queen Rishe sat like a statue of divine judgment, her violet gaze sharp.
Nathaniel was the first to speak. "There's movement in Kur'thaal. Lioren was seen near the border."
Claude's wings shifted. "Alone?"
"No. Vael was with him."
Brisco frowned. "Did they attack?"
Nathaniel shook his head. "No. They stood on the cliffs. Lioren spoke to Rafael. Nothing more."
As if summoned by name, Rafael strolled in from the side chamber, his youthful face flushed with something between excitement and annoyance.
"'Nothing more,' he says," Rafael echoed mockingly. "You forget to mention that I offered to strike first."
Everyone turned.
"You what?" Seraphine demanded.
Rafael shrugged. "I wanted to test him."
"And I told you no," Nathaniel cut in, his voice like steel. "It is not time yet."
Rafael rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. With the prophecy hanging over us—"
He stopped. The room fell utterly still.
Queen Rishe's gaze darkened.
Claude stiffened. Leya's wings twitched.
Brisco's brow furrowed. "Prophecy?"
Feya exhaled. Her expression was unreadable as she looked at Rafael with sheer frustration. Then, she turned to Rishe.
The Queen gave a single nod.
Feya stepped forward.
"Months before Lioren crossed to Kur'thaal, I saw a vision. It was not a single moment—it was a cascade of futures."
The room remained in silence, all eyes on her.
"I saw Asphodel bathed in light… and then, drowned in shadow. I saw the stars shatter. I saw demons with wings made of light, and angels whose hearts bled like fire. I saw Nathaniel, standing at the gates—his wings ablaze. He will lead the charge… and he will win."
Murmurs rippled.
Feya continued. "But at a cost. I saw cities falling. Towers burning. I saw the throne cracked."
Brisco stepped forward, his voice low. "Then why send him?"
Queen Rishe's answer came with quiet finality. "Because I would rather burn Asphodel in war than let it rot in hesitation."
The hall fell into silence.
A moment later, Nathaniel turned to Rafael. "Prepare the elite. We move within days."
Rafael gave a crooked grin. "Finally."
And with that, the room shifted. The war no longer loomed in the distance.
It had already begun.