The forest pulsed like a living heart that night.
Every branch, every whisper of wind seemed to echo a rhythm not born of nature — but of memory.
Sora felt it beneath his skin, the shadows around him trembling as though they too remembered something long buried.
He walked through the ruins of what was once a sunlit temple — now consumed by dark moss and silence.
The air smelled faintly of incense and ash.
He knelt where light once gathered and brushed the cracked stone, murmuring:
"Once, this place was sacred. Now it bows to shadow. How ironic."
But as his fingers grazed the marble, a vision tore through him — blinding, sudden.
He saw her.
A silver-haired woman, standing in the same place, years ago — her hands glowing with divine magic as she whispered a prayer.
Only this time, the words were not of hate… but sorrow.
He staggered back, clutching his head.
"What… what are you showing me?"
he growled to the shadows.
But the darkness offered no answer — only the faint echo of her voice.
"Forgive me… brother."
The words struck deeper than any blade.
---
Far away, in the sacred citadel of light, Seraphine sat before a mirror of blessed crystal.
It reflected not her face, but memories not her own — a man cloaked in shadow, eyes burning violet, his laughter echoing like the fall of kingdoms.
Her heart twisted painfully.
Every record she read, every report from survivors spoke of the same monster — cold, merciless, a being of pure darkness.
Yet… why did she feel warmth when his name reached her ears?
"Sora…"
she whispered again.
"Why does your name ache like a forgotten prayer?"
She touched the crystal, and for an instant — his reflection looked back at her, not in hatred, but in grief.
A voice behind her spoke — the Archbishop.
"Lady Seraphine, the Inquisition awaits your command."
She turned, cloak whispering against marble.
"Tell them to wait. The darkness we chase… may not be the enemy we think."
---
Back in the ruins, Sora stood beneath the moon, its pale light spilling over his shadowed form.
He closed his eyes, the echo of her voice still ringing in his mind.
"Forgive me… brother."
A faint smile curved his lips — not of amusement, but of recognition.
"So that's what you were hiding from me… world."
The wind shifted, carrying a whisper that crossed miles, unseen yet unmistakable —
the same whisper Seraphine heard upon the balcony of light.
Two souls, separated by faith and fate, now walking toward a truth neither was ready to face.
And somewhere between them, the world itself held its breath.