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Seliph Tower — Location Unknown
It was the middle of the night. Lightning cracked violently outside, illuminating a solemn chamber cloaked in silence. In a casket cradled by white flowers lay a beautiful man—his skin pale as jade, his long silver-white hair cascading like threads of moonlight. He looked peaceful, as though he had once borne the weight of the world.
Surrounding him stood five shadowed figures, their silhouettes shrouded in darkness.
TUNG.
The clock struck midnight.
The man's fingers twitched.
Slowly, he rose from the casket, eyes opening to a new world once more. He looked ahead—wordless—as the figures knelt before him and bowed low.
"In reverence, we kneel. Our Lord Seraphielthor has awakened again," they chanted in unison.
Suddenly, a voice echoed—soft, divine—from the stone lips of a statue. It was the figure of a beautiful woman, her hands clasped in prayer, her expression weeping serenity. She stirred, though made of marble, and spoke:
"O thou, Seraphielthor Ashvale, son of heaven and bearer of pain,
The time hath drawn nigh—
The devil, reborn, treadeth once more upon the soil of mortals.
Thou, harbinger of light, must rise.
In shadows shalt we remain until fate calleth us again.
When thy blade burneth bright, we shall stand at thy side.
Go now—
For the world needeth thee again."
———
The Abyssal Cathedral — Location Unknown
Far across a realm unseen, veiled in ancient fog, a group of men clad in ceremonial white carried a casket down the aisle of a cathedral carved from blackened stone. The crowd—robed in the same garb—parted with silent reverence.
They laid the casket at the heart of the cathedral and stepped back, raising their right hands with open palms, as though offering their devotion to unseen heavens.
A low chant began—tongues twisted, ghostly, like voices robbed of form and sound. The language was not meant for man, echoing with a corruption deeper than death.
Suddenly, a divine bolt shattered the stained glass above. A piercing beam of light descended and struck the casket.
Within, a boy with hair white as snow and stormy grey eyes stirred. Slowly, he rose.
The chanting halted.
All present dropped to their knees, and one man stood forward, proclaiming:
"Our messiah, Icarus Lepidus, hath been born again—to lead us unto salvation!"