As the light began to fade, Arashi felt himself descending, the wings of energy dissipating into motes that scattered on the wind. The sword in his hand shrank back into the dagger, though the silver light still pulsed faintly along its blade. His feet touched the ground, and immediately his knees buckled. Strong hands caught him, Elder Takuma on one side, Kira on the other.
"Did I..." he began, his voice hoarse. His throat felt raw, as if he'd been screaming for hours. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "Is everyone..."
"You saved many," Takuma said quietly. Up close, Arashi could see how much the night had aged the Elder, new lines had appeared on his face, and more silver threaded his hair. "But not all. Meirōmura has fallen."
Arashi raised his head to see the devastation around them. Though the Hollow Ones were gone, much of the village lay in ruins. The bakery where Kira had grown up was a smoldering shell. The archive where Takuma had taught him was partially collapsed. Bodies were scattered among the debris, some villagers he'd known his entire life, faces he had seen every day, people who had greeted him each morning. And floating above it all, a pall of crimson energy still lingered, like a wound in the very sky.
Kira's hand tightened on his shoulder. When he looked at her, he saw that tears had cut clean tracks through the soot on her face. But beneath the grief was something else, a determination he recognized, the stubborn will to survive that had always defined her. "We need to get the wounded to safety," she said, her practical nature asserting itself even now. "There's a group gathering at the archive."
"Why?" Arashi asked, the word barely audible. His gaze fixed on a small body half-buried in rubble, a child he had seen playing just that morning. "Why did they come here? Why me?"
Elder Takuma's expression was solemn. "Because of who you were. Who you are becoming." He looked toward the horizon, where the first hints of dawn were appearing, turning the sky from black to deep purple. "And they'll come again. This was only the beginning."
As they helped him walk through the devastated streets, Arashi felt something shifting within him, not just power, but understanding. The dormant knowledge that had awakened during his transformation was settling into his consciousness, integrating with the person he had been. The name the Hollow One had spoken, Raziel, echoed in his mind like a bell tolling the end of one life and the beginning of another.
A memory surfaced, not his own, yet undeniably part of him now. A great hall of crystal and light, beings with multiple wings arranged in a circle. A decision made. A burden accepted.
"The knowledge must be hidden," a voice from that memory said. "The Choir seeks it above all else. If they obtain it, creation itself will unravel."
"I will bear it," he heard himself say, not Arashi's voice, but one that resonated with harmonics beyond human hearing. "I will hide it within mortality, where they cannot reach without revealing themselves."
The memory faded, leaving him with a hollow certainty. Whatever he had been before, whoever Raziel had been, that burden was his now. The knowledge hidden within him was both weapon and target.
They passed a group of survivors digging through the remains of a collapsed house. Arashi recognized Taro, the blacksmith's apprentice who had once mocked him, now working alongside others to free someone trapped beneath a fallen beam. The boy's face was streaked with tears and soot, but his movements were determined, focused.
"There's someone alive under here!" Taro called out. "I can hear them breathing!"
Without hesitation, Kira left Arashi's side, rushing to help. Her hands, still bearing calluses from years of kneading dough, now grasped splintered wood, heedless of the cuts she received. "Lift on three," she ordered, taking charge naturally.
Arashi watched, leaning heavily on Takuma, as they worked to free the trapped villager. Despite everything that had happened, despite what he now knew himself to be, he felt a swell of pride in these humans, in their resilience, their refusal to surrender to despair. They had lost their homes, their loved ones, yet still they fought to save whoever they could.
"You chose well," Takuma said quietly, following his gaze. "When you decided to fall, you chose well in selecting Meirōmura."
"I don't remember making that choice," Arashi admitted. "Not specifically. The memories are... fragments. Impressions." He looked down at his hands, expecting them to appear different somehow. But they were the same hands he'd always had, now scraped and bloodied, but undeniably human. "I'm still Arashi."
"Yes and no," the Elder replied. "You are Arashi Kageyama, raised in this village, trained by me. But you are also Raziel, Keeper of Secrets, one of the Fallen. Both are true."
They watched as Kira and the others freed a young woman from the rubble, Saya, who sold flowers in the market. Her leg was clearly broken, but she was alive, coughing as they pulled her into the pre-dawn air.
"I need to help them," Arashi said, straightening despite the exhaustion that weighed on every limb. "I need to do more."
Takuma didn't try to stop him this time, merely nodding as Arashi moved toward the rescue effort. The dagger, still clutched in his hand, pulsed faintly with silver light, a reminder of what had awakened within him. But as he knelt beside Saya, checking her injuries with human hands and human concern, he felt the balance shift slightly. Raziel might have been what saved them all, but it was Arashi who would help them rebuild.
As the first true rays of sunlight crested the eastern mountains, cutting through the lingering crimson haze, Arashi looked around at what remained of Meirōmura. The village he had known was gone, transformed by violence into something broken and strange. But the people remained, battered, grieving, but alive. And in that moment, he made a new decision, one that belonged solely to the person he was now, neither fully human nor fully Seraph, but something in between.
The Hollow Ones had come for him. Others would follow. The intelligent one had promised as much. The Void Choir would not stop until it had what he carried within. And when they came again, he would be ready, not just with the power of Raziel, but with the determination and love that had made Arashi who he was.
As if sensing his resolve, Kira looked up from where she was bandaging Saya's leg. Their eyes met across the rubble, and something passed between them, an understanding deeper than words. Whatever he was becoming, she would stand with him. Not because he was Raziel, Keeper of Secrets, but because he was Arashi, her friend.
Elder Takuma rested a hand on his shoulder. "The path ahead will not be easy," he said quietly. "The awakening is just the beginning."
"I know," Arashi replied, watching as more survivors emerged from the ruins of their homes, gathering in the growing daylight. Children sought their parents; friends embraced amid tears of relief or grief. "But I won't walk it alone."
The dagger in his hand seemed to hum in agreement, its silver light pulsing like a heartbeat, steady, determined, alive. Whatever knowledge it contained, whatever memories still waited to surface, they would face them together. Arashi Kageyama, the orphan of Meirōmura, and Raziel, the Fallen Seraph. Both parts of the same whole, now and forever.
The rising sun cast long shadows across the devastated village, but also illuminated paths forward, roads to rebuild, to heal, to prepare. And in that light, Arashi took his first step into a new life, carrying the weight of two worlds on his shoulders. The Void Choir had made its opening move in a game older than time itself. The next move was his.