The air inside the sanctuary ruins shimmered faintly, as though reality itself had grown thin. The lingering echoes of forgotten chants still clung to the broken stones, and Kael felt them stir something deep within his chest—a resonance that hummed in his bones like an old song he almost remembered.
He stood at the shattered altar, fingers brushing the obsidian surface, scorched long ago by angelic fire. The mural behind him showed the horned warrior once more—Velkarion—wreathed in both flame and light, standing defiant before a host of radiant angels. His eyes, painted with eerie precision, burned with grief more than fury.
Kael whispered the name. "Velkarion…"
Riven glanced over, eyes sharp but solemn. "It wasn't just a name. It was a title. 'Velkarion' means 'Flame of Truth' in the old tongue. It belonged to the last of the Bound Flame—your ancestor."
Kael turned, jaw tight. "How can that be? I'm no warrior. I'm not even a good priest."
"Blood doesn't ask for permission," she said quietly. "And truth… it doesn't need you to be ready."
They moved deeper into the sanctuary. Demonic glyphs pulsed faintly along the walls—traces of magic that had once protected the place from angelic corruption. As they passed, some of the symbols flickered brighter near Kael, reacting to his presence.
Riven stopped. "There's something you need to see."
She led him to a sealed chamber at the sanctuary's heart. A circular door of blackened steel bore the mark of twin flames—a symbol Kael recognized from his visions. As he stepped closer, the door hissed and groaned. Without touching it, it opened.
Inside was a small chamber, lit by a single hovering ember. The walls were covered in carvings—accounts of the old war, the fall of the demon guardians, and the betrayal of the archangels. In the center stood a pedestal, and on it, a mirror.
Not just a reflection of light—something deeper. Soul-deep.
Kael approached, and the ember above the mirror flared.
His body locked up.
In an instant, he was elsewhere—no longer Kael, but someone older, stronger, burning with power and pain. He stood on a battlefield of ash and flame, wielding a blade of searing twilight. Angelic corpses littered the ground. Around him, mortals fled in terror… from the angels, not the demons.
At his side stood a horned woman—her features a ghostly echo of Riven's. Her hands crackled with shadowfire, and her voice called him back from the brink. "Velkarion, we're losing ground—"
A flash of gold. A spear of divine energy pierced her chest. She screamed.
He roared. And then… the vision shattered.
Kael fell to his knees, gasping, sweat streaming down his face.
Riven caught him. "You saw it, didn't you?"
He nodded, trembling. "She… was that… your ancestor?"
"Mine, yes. Yours too, in a way." She helped him to his feet. "Our bloodlines crossed in the last days of the war. It's why you see through the lies. You carry both truths inside you."
Kael stared at her. "I'm… not fully human."
"You're Bound Flame," she confirmed. "And that means the angels will never stop hunting you. They fear what you are. What you could become."
He looked down at his hands—one still glowing faintly with the glyph's fading mark. "I don't want this. I didn't ask for any of it."
"Neither did Velkarion," Riven said. "But he fought anyway. So must you."
Suddenly, a pulse echoed through the sanctuary. The glyphs dimmed, then flared again—warning signs.
Riven's face hardened. "We're not alone."
From the entrance, a deep voice rang out, laced with cruel delight.
"Velkarion reborn. How poetic."
Inquisitor Dareth stepped through the doorway, flanked by two Seraph Guards in mirrored armor. His helm retracted, revealing a smug, scarred face twisted with contempt.
"I was hoping you'd come here. The High Inquisitor predicted it. You're so predictable, heretic."
Kael stepped forward, something burning beneath his skin. "I'm not who I was."
"No," Dareth said. "You're worse."
He raised his halberd, divine energy crackling along its edge.
Riven moved fast, throwing a burst of shadowfire to blind them. "Run!" she yelled.
Kael didn't hesitate. They fled through a side passage as light exploded behind them, the sanctuary collapsing under holy assault.
As they sprinted into the ancient tunnels, Kael looked back only once—at the place where his past had awakened. At the truth now branded into his soul.
The blood he carried was cursed by angels. But it was also sacred.
And it was his.