---
The stairs were wrong.
Not broken, not jagged, not haunted — wrong.
Each step beneath her feet felt too soft, then too hard, then too far, then too close. The rhythm of descent was not one of gravity or space, but thought. The more Rias tried to count them, the more lost she became.
Behind her, Akeno breathed in quiet hitches. She hadn't spoken since the vision. Since the illusion of Issei — and his death. Rias hadn't either. The image of that moment burned under her ribs like a brand. Not just because of the pain…
But because she'd believed it.
Sunny led.
He said nothing, as always. The way he moved now was different — slower, heavier. As though whatever he had seen in the temple had aged him years in minutes. And though he never looked back, Rias felt his awareness constantly brushing hers. Watching. Waiting.
The descent ended in stillness.
The stairwell gave way to a hollow — vast and vaulted, like the inside of a cathedral built not for gods, but for judgment. The walls were obsidian veined with white, glowing softly like marrow.
In the center of the hollow stood a monolith.
It was carved from the same bone as the temple, but its surface was unmarked. No symbols. No cracks. Just smooth, perfect silence.
Sunny approached first.
He laid his hand on the monolith.
This time, nothing lashed out. No visions. No shadow. Just a low, slow pulse, like a heartbeat echoing through stone.
Rias stepped forward next.
When her fingers brushed it, her vision shimmered.
But what came wasn't illusion.
It was truth.
Not from the Dream.
From herself.
Memories long sealed — moments of her past she had locked away. The day her brother sent her away for safety. The night she chose Issei over the Old Families. The first time she realized she'd never be free of what her bloodline expected.
The Power of Destruction throbbed inside her.
Not a weapon.
A wound.
Akeno touched the monolith next — and wept.
Not from pain.
From memory.
Of her mother's death. Of her father's silence. Of the day she swore never to let someone she loved die again.
When they all stepped away, no one spoke.
Because the monolith had shown them what the Dream could not twist.
Who they truly were.
And who they might still become.
Sunny stared at his reflection in the stone.
He did not touch it.
And the monolith did not call him.
Because he already knew the truth.
He just didn't want to look at it again.
---
They lingered near the edge of the hollow, the weight of memory still coiled tight in their chests.
It was Akeno who noticed it first.
A flicker.
No — less than that. A shift in the pressure of the space. A quiet tension, like a breath being held in.
Rias turned, and her eyes went wide.
In the darkness beyond the light of the monolith…
Something moved.
Not quickly.
Not clumsily.
But deliberately.
A sliver of motion. Just enough to hint at size. Mass. Intent.
It didn't roar. It didn't rush them.
It simply watched.
Rias could feel the weight of its gaze.
Like teeth pressing against glass.
Sunny's voice was cold. Quiet.
"We're not alone."
Akeno's hand tightened into a fist. Lightning coiled around her knuckles.
Rias felt her power surge to the surface, instinctively reacting to the unseen predator.
But Sunny didn't draw his blade.
He didn't even turn fully toward the darkness.
He just muttered:
"It's not attacking."
"Then what's it doing?" Rias asked.
His shadow curled unnaturally beneath him.
"…It's waiting."
Akeno's voice was a whisper. "For what?"
Rias stared into the dark.
The shape didn't move.
But she could feel it breathing.
"…For us to leave the light."