The battlefield had quieted, though not truly ended. Ash still drifted on the wind, the last remains of demons burned to nothing by the angels' relentless strikes. Their halos blazed like fragments of suns, their movements sharp and merciless, each sweep of their blades leaving only silence in its wake. The air shimmered with the heat of battle, glowing embers falling like dying fireflies.
Through this haze of light and shadow, a battered car limped forward—until its engine coughed, sputtered, and finally gave up.
The car rolled to a stop.
Arivan cursed under his breath, brow furrowing. Of course… now of all times?
He shoved the door open and stepped out, scanning the looming gates in the distance. Their colossal shadow stretched across the earth like a warning. Turning back, he motioned to the boy.
"Sumit, from here, we walk."
They both climbed out. Arivan's hand twitched, instinctively reaching for something absent. His eyes narrowed. Where's my spear— He snapped his fingers with a flash of golden light, the weapon answered. The spear crackled into being, humming with restrained power. He twirled it once, then pressed it into the boy's hands.
Here. You carry this. I'll carry your mother.
Sumit's eyes widened as he took the weapon. It was heavy—not just the steel, but the weight of meaning behind it. Arivan bent down, lifting the unconscious woman gently into his arms. Without another word, he turned toward the fortress gates.
But he froze.
A gaze pinned him in place—sharp, steady, and unyielding.
She was still there. The woman who had summoned the angels. Her eyes burned into him, not with hatred, nor with kindness… but with the quiet, aching weight of someone who had been waiting far too long.
Her voice finally cut through the silence.
Will you finally tell me where you've been, Ryvash?
The name hit the battlefield like a bell, its echo carrying further than her voice.
Ryvash's jaw tightened. His expression wasn't guilt, but burden. The kind of weight that couldn't be explained in a single breath.
This… was more important than anything else I could've done.
Sumit blinked up at him, his young face puzzled.
Mama… who is she? And why is she mad at you?
Ryvash let out a slow breath. "Her name is Emily. She's your aunty… and my wife."
Sumit's eyes went wide. "Ahh… that's why she's angry.
Ryvash frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sumit tilted his head, innocent as ever. "When Papa used to come home late, Mama would worry about him a lot, and then scold him in the very same way.
Emily's face flushed red. She turned sharply away, lips pressed tight, before blurting, Y-yes! But that doesn't mean you're off the hook—you still have to explain everything to me later!
Still flustered, she brushed past him and strode toward the gates.
Ryvash followed, carrying his sister close. Sumit trailed behind with the spear in hand. Together, they crossed the threshold.
And that was when they saw it.
High above the archway crouched a statue. Dragon-faced, horned, yet leonine in body—like a beast caught between myths. Its stone gaze stared outward, cold and lifeless.
But as Sumit stepped closer, the eyes moved.
They dropped, unblinking, locking onto him.
For a breath, time froze.
Then, the instant his foot touched the threshold, the statue's eyes dulled back to stone.
As if they had never shifted at all.
The gate rumbled shut behind them, sealing away the battlefield's chaos. Darkness swallowed them—until one by one, lamps along the tunnel walls flared to life, casting pale fire down the long corridor. The light pushed back the shadows, guiding them deeper.
Emily walked beside Ryvash, her fingers brushing the stone where the flames flickered to life. Her gaze, however, wasn't on the path. It lingered first on him, then on the unconscious woman in his arms.
Her breath hitched. That face… too familiar.
Her voice wavered, sharp with suspicion.
Ryvash… is she the one you told me about once? Your sister?
He gave a short nod. "Yes."
Emily's eyes softened, anger faltering into concern. She glanced at the woman, her voice quiet.
Is she alright?
She's only unconscious, Ryvash assured.
Emily's brows drew tight again. "Did anyone else know you were coming back?
"No," Ryvash answered without hesitation.
Her eyes widened, anger flaring.
Then what were you thinking, sending that message over the radio?
Ryvash's mouth quirked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
I don't know, he said, too lightly.
But after a pause, his expression sobered, his voice firmer.
As far as I remember… the radio belonged to the gatekeepers. It was for them—to reach out if someone like us returned, or if there was ever an emergency.
Emily's face hardened.
That office has been shut down. No one stays there anymore.
Ryvash slowed, frowning. What happened to the gatekeepers?
Her jaw tightened. I don't know. I only came back a few days ago myself.
His lips curved into a half-smile, half-taunt and what were you doing there?
Emily's eyes flashed. Nothing and it's none of your concern.
He chuckled under his breath. Yeah… I know what you were doing.
Before she could retort, the tunnel brightened. The lamps dimmed as natural light spilled in from ahead.
They stepped out into brilliance.
Before them towered a colossal tree, its branches clawing through the heavens. Every leaf shimmered faintly, its bark etched with veins of light. It was less a tree, more a living monument, a beacon tearing away the shadows.
Sumit's breath caught, his eyes wide with awe. "It's… beautiful."
Ryvash's face softened, rare nostalgia flickering across it. It's been a long time since I last saw it.
Emily's lips pressed thin, though her voice carried a gentler note. "Hmm."
Sumit pointed beyond the glowing trunk. Look… there's even a village. Just like in my dreams.
Both adults stiffened. What do you mean, 'just like your dreams'?
The boy hesitated, then spoke calmly, almost matter-of-fact.
Since I was little, I've seen this tree in my sleep. The visions got clearer as I grew older… and after that, well—you already know what happened.
Ryvash shifted the weight of his sister in his arms with a weary groan.
Can we go already? My arms are killing me. And I'm starving.
Emily shot him a glare, though it melted into something softer, exasperation tangled with worry.
Hmph. You haven't changed at all… still the same habits.
But even as she said it, her eyes lingered on him—tense, confused, and heavy with unspoken questions.
What happened to them out there? What forced them to return… and in such a broken state?