INT. HELL – SURVIVORS' CAMP – TIMELESS NIGHT
Ash drifts slowly through the crimson sky. The survivors gather within a circle of cracked stone — fifty-four of them. They move with quiet precision, building camp again in the ruins of the fallen Ark.
Salvaged supply crates are stacked at the center: food, water, tents, medicine, and spare weapons. Each one half-empty but guarded like treasure.
Survivor A: Careful with that! That's the last clean water jug!
Survivor B: There's still a few boxes of rations here — dried rice, bread, and sealed meat. Not much though.
Survivor C: Then ration it. Nobody eats twice until we find more.
The air hums with fatigue. Those too injured to stand are laid on blankets near the fire. The stronger ones guard the perimeter, weapons gleaming faintly in the ashlight.
Kwame sits near Cassian, his gauntlets resting beside him, faint sparks tracing across his arms. Cassian leans on her halberd, her Herald glow dim but steady.
Kwame: So... we're both Heralds now. Never thought lightning and speed would mix this well.
Cassian: Mine's not just speed. It's reflexes too. But every muscle feels like it's breaking each time I move.
Kwame: Power's never free. He chuckles softly. Guess that's the tax for staying alive down here.
Cassian: Then I'll pay it. As long as it keeps us breathing.
They share a brief silence. Around them, the others continue working — building tents, checking weapons, cooking the last few rations on portable stoves. The flicker of orange light reflects on their weary faces.
Survivor D: opening a crate We've got maybe two days' worth of food left. Three if we stretch it.
Survivor E: Don't say that so loud. People need rest, not panic.
Survivor F: grimly Rest? In Hell? That's a luxury.
The faint sound of laughter follows, dry and forced — but real. In a place where despair rules, humor is rebellion.
INT. HELL – CAMP OUTER PERIMETER
Arven patrols the perimeter, boots crunching over ash and bone. Grace and Kael follow, lanterns dimly glowing in the mist.
Arven: Anyone seen Julian?
Survivor A: Not since the collapse.
Survivor B: I think I saw him fall south, near the ridge — when the Ark started breaking apart.
Arven: South ridge... he clenches his jaw Then that's where we'll look.
Grace: I'm going with you.
Kael: Count me in.
Arven: nods once Then it's settled. We move next cycle.
He glances back toward the camp — fifty-four survivors rebuilding in silence, one missing among the smoke and ruins.
Arven: Fifty-four in camp. One out there. We're not leaving him behind.
The others nod. Around them, the faint hum of the crimson wind fills the air.
INT. HELL – CAMP FIRE CIRCLE – LATER
Night deepens. The camp quiets. The fires burn low, shadows dancing on broken metal. Arven wakes to a whisper — soft, rhythmic, strange.
He rises and follows it, stopping near the edge of camp where Kairo kneels by the fire, eyes closed, speaking in a language unlike anything human.
Arven: Kairo... who are you talking to?
Kairo opens his eyes, startled, but recovers quickly.
Kairo: Oh, Arven. Didn't think anyone was awake. Just... remembering my family. Our old tongue.
Arven: Didn't sound like remembering.
Kairo: smiles faintly Sometimes memory and prayer sound the same.
Arven: frowns, uneasy Get some rest. Tomorrow we're heading out.
Kairo: I know. I'll be here when you return. Just... bring him back.
Arven nods and walks away. Behind him, Kairo's whispers resume — low, ancient, and unreadable.
INT. HELL – CAMP RIDGE – FIVE HOURS LATER
There is no dawn in Hell — only a dim shift from red to darker red. The next cycle begins. Arven, Grace, and Kael stand at the edge of camp, ready. Packs loaded, blades sharpened, resolve set.
Kwame: Bring him back. Don't let the south take another one.
Cassian: And don't get yourselves killed trying.
Survivor C: You three go. We'll guard the wounded and the supplies.
Arven: tightening his grip on his sword Keep the fires burning. We'll return with Julian.
Grace: And maybe more supplies, if we're lucky.
Kael: In Hell, luck's just another word for surviving.
They share quick nods, then step into the crimson fog. The camp fades behind them, swallowed by the shifting ash. Fifty-four remain. Three vanish into the storm.
INT. EARTH – BROADCAST HALL – NIGHT
Billions of screens light up. Across the Earth, people gather — in cities, temples, and streets. The image of Gabriel appears, standing before the burning sigil of Heaven's circle. His eyes are calm, but heavy.
Gabriel: People of Earth... the Chosen Hundred have achieved what none before them could. Three Sigils of the Hierarchy have fallen.
Gasps ripple across the hall. The fire brightens behind him, revealing the names burned into the light.
Gabriel: Ozyth — the Eighth, the Halo. Druval — the Fifth, the Butcher. Nyxira — the Sixth, the Silence. Each slain by human hands.
Applause erupts, prayers echoing through the world. But Gabriel's tone turns solemn.
Gabriel: Yet from the Hundred, only fifty-five remain. Forty-five are gone — their names carved into the ashes of Hell itself.
The chamber falls quiet. Even the flames dim.
Gabriel: But hear me — they are not lost. Their struggle is ours. Their pain, our burden. Humanity stands with them. And this time... we will not fall.
He lifts his hand over the fire, his voice rising like a vow.
Gabriel: Hope has returned — born from the ashes of Hell. And this time, it will not die.
The broadcast ends, his image fading into light.
INT. HELL – SURVIVORS' CAMP – SAME TIME
They heard Gabriel's announcement in their head. The survivors gather around it, Gabriel's sound flickering through the static.
Survivor D: That's him... Gabriel. Still watching over us.
Survivor E: Fifty-five left, huh? He's counting Julian too.
Survivor F: Then we better bring him back. Make sure the count stays true.
Kwame leans back against a cracked wall, exhaustion and determination in his eyes.
Kwame: If Gabriel's still watching... let him see we're not done yet.
Cassian sits beside him, halberd across her knees, her faint glow reflecting off the flames.
Cassian: Maybe that's what he needs to see — that even in Hell, we still believe.
The survivors fall silent, staring at the flickering light. For the first time, it feels warm.
To be continued...