Dark Seraphim

The abandoned chapel stood silent, a forgotten relic swallowed by time and nature. The scent of damp wood and decay lingered in the air, but it was safe—for now.

Asrael let his head fall back against the cold stone wall, his breath still ragged. Selene sat across from him, fingers brushing over the vial she had produced. The crimson liquid inside gleamed dully in the dim light, thick and almost alive.

"Where did you get that?" Asrael finally asked, nodding toward the vial.

Selene hesitated, then tightened her grip around it. "You ask a lot of questions for someone half-dead."

He smirked, though the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through his ribs. "Humor me."

She exhaled, rubbing a thumb over the glass. "I don't know exactly what it is. But someone—an old man in the market—told me it could heal things that weren't meant to heal."

Asrael frowned. "You just took it?"

She tilted her head. "It was given to me. He said I'd need it soon."

His fingers twitched. Prophecy. He hated prophecy.

"Drink it," she urged. "It might help."

He hesitated. Forbidden things always came with a price. But his body was failing, and he had no other choice. Taking the vial from her, he uncorked it and swallowed a mouthful. The liquid burned like fire down his throat, spreading through his veins in a searing rush.

Asrael gritted his teeth as his wounds pulsed, the divine energy clashing violently against whatever magic was in the vial. His muscles locked, his vision darkened, and then—

Nothing.

When he finally came to, the chapel was silent except for the faint rustle of Selene pacing. He took a slow, careful breath.

The pain was gone.

He lifted his arm, staring at the unbroken skin where deep wounds had been. No scars, no remnants—just clean, smooth flesh.

Selene stopped pacing, watching him. "It worked."

Asrael sat up slowly. "It shouldn't have."

A beat of silence. Then Selene's voice dropped. "That's not all, is it?"

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "No."

Something had changed within him. He could feel it. The magic had done more than heal him—it had awakened something else.

Something buried.

Something dangerous.

🔥 The Hunters Close In 🔥

Far from the chapel, the celestial warriors moved with purpose. The first one, the tallest, stood atop a ruined pillar, his golden eyes scanning the horizon.

"He's alive."

The female warrior beside him clenched her fists. "How? He should be dead by now."

"He had help," the third said darkly. "And not just from her."

A pause.

"Then we're not hunting just a fallen angel anymore," the leader murmured. "We're hunting a heretic. And a traitor."

His wings flared, catching the dim light. "Find them. Now."

🔥 IN THE DARKNESS – AN OATH 🔥

Back in the chapel, Asrael flexed his fingers, testing his strength. Whatever had happened to him, he felt stronger, more... whole. But there were no answers. Not yet.

Selene sat beside him now, quiet. Thoughtful.

"You never answered me before," she said softly. "Why do I remember you?"

He studied her, considering the weight of truth. Then he sighed. "Because you were never meant to forget."

A flicker of something crossed her expression—shock, realization, fear. "What do you mean?"

He looked away, staring into the flickering candlelight. "It means, Selene, that our fates were written together. Long before either of us had a choice."

Her breath caught, and in the silence that followed, the distant echo of wings cut through the night.

They had found them.

The hunt was over.

The war was about to begin.