Varian's pace slowed.
The corridor ahead was empty, lit only by torches flickering in their iron sconces, but his voice cut through the stillness like drawn steel.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
He turned, half-facing the fallen angel now. The dim torchlight danced along the angular lines of his face, casting his shadow long against the pillar behind him.
"A divine artifact?" Varian asked, voice calm but weighted. "You speak as if I should already know what you mean. Or worse — as if you expect me to guess."
Zair'El smiled — slow, infuriatingly pleased.
"I expected the question. I even hoped for it."
He strolled a little further, wings folding close behind him like a silken cloak. His halo gave a faint shimmer, pulsing once as he spoke.
"The mountain of the first dawn… you call it by another name. Mount Caedryn, I believe. The place where light first kissed your world in the days before your gods remembered shame."
